The Spirit of the Lord Is Upon Me

Meditation on Luke 4:14-21

Pastor Karen Crawford

First Presbyterian Church of Smithtown

Jan. 26, 2025

Art by Stushie

This is a happy day for our congregation. Today, we will ordain and/or install our Elders and Deacons to active service. Ordination is truly God’s gift to the church—the Lord’s way of equipping and caring for the people of God. When I consider those who have said yes to serving, I am filled with gratitude to God and to all who agreed to serve. I know about the variety of gifts and talents these people possess. The longer I am here, the more I see and appreciate them!

And I know that we are united as Christ’s Body. We have the same passion; we love the Church; we love the Lord. And while we are many members with different gifts, we are ONE, drinking of the same Spirit, as Paul says in his first letter to the Corinthian church. In this passage in chapter 12 that we read today, notice that Paul uses the word ONE at least 10 times. Whenever there is a repeated word in the Bible, the writer is emphasizing that word. Paul wants you to remember ONE, if nothing else, from this passage.

Friends, there is not ONE member who is unimportant. At the Church at Corinth, they were a competitive group of people. There were some egos. They all wanted to be important. Paul tried to set them straight and keep them from being divisive. He wanted them to care for the members who were not being treated as well as they should. Our example for leadership is always Jesus. We are called to be servant leaders. Jesus came not to be served, but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many.

Trustees, though they are not ordained in the Church, are still answering the call to ministry and using all their God-given gifts and resources to serve the Lord and the family of God. The work of the Deacons, though they are ordained to their special kind of service, isn’t less or more important than the work of the Trustees and the Elders. The work of the Elders, though they are ordained to their special kind of service, isn’t less or more important than the work of the Trustees and the Deacons.

What about the rest of the Church? Do we need everyone else, too, or is it enough to just have the minister, Trustees, Deacons, and Elders? We need everyone in the Church to complete the Body of Christ. We especially need the children!!! We need everyone. We need you. We would not be the same without you. Every member of the Body is needed, just like a human body without an ear, eye, arm, hand, mouth, leg, foot, or toe, is incomplete. All are needed for our ministry in this place.

We are with Jesus in his hometown of Nazareth in our reading in Luke chapter 4 today. He’s been in this synagogue before. He grew up here. Who has been in this church for at least 30 years? How’s it feel to come back, again and again, to this house of worship, to these people? It feels good, right? Comfortable. He’s been in this synagogue for 30 years, ever since he was a child, though he wasn’t born in Nazareth, of course.

Jesus knows everyone in the synagogue here. Indeed, everybody knows everybody. They don’t just see each other on the Sabbath. They see each other probably every day. It’s a small town, maybe a few hundred people. These are all working class folks, most not highly educated. News about Jesus—what he’s been up to—has traveled around the region. They didn’t need Facebook or cell phones back then. It was all word of mouth. People are talking about Jesus, all the good things he has done.

They are proud of him, until he stands up to read from the prophet Isaiah. Everything is going well until he finishes, rolls up the scroll, sits down. And announces that he is the Messiah, the one with the Spirit of the Lord upon him, the One with a capital O, anointed to preach good news to the poor, release to the captive, sight to the blind, freedom to the oppressed. They know this scripture like they know the back of their hands. But Jesus has now changed the whole meaning of this familiar passage. He is saying, “Isaiah was talking about me.”

Here is what happened after that. Beginning at verse 22,

22 All spoke well of him and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his mouth. They said, “Is this not Joseph’s son?” 23 He said to them, “Doubtless you will quote to me this proverb, ‘Doctor, cure yourself!’ And you will say, ‘Do here also in your hometown the things that we have heard you did at Capernaum.’ ” 24 And he said, “Truly I tell you, no prophet is accepted in his hometown.”

He then goes on to assure them that he isn’t going to do all the deeds of power, all the healings and casting out of demons, that he has done in other places. He won’t be able to do them because of their lack of faith. He reminds them how the work of the prophet Elijah, during the 3 and a half years of famine in the land, wasn’t sent to help the many needy widows of Israel; he was only sent to a Gentile widow outside of Israel. Many struggled with skin diseases in Israel, but the only one Elijah cured was the Gentile, Naaman the Syrian.

The people in his hometown can’t take any more of their native son. Filled with rage, they get up, drive him to the edge of town and attempt to hurl him off a cliff. He mysteriously passes through them and continues on his way, heading to Capernaum in Galilee, where he teaches on the Sabbath and heals a man with an unclean spirit.

The lesson here for us is that Jesus had plenty of bumps in the road during his ministry. And he was Jesus, the Son of God! The people he loved and knew the most let him down, right from the beginning. He went home and wasn’t welcome there, anymore. But he didn’t stop doing what God had called him to do. He kept going. He persevered.

I’m in my last few months of my doctoral program. At this point, I am working on the research and writing every day. I try to give at least two hours a day to the project. But sometimes, life happens, and plans change. Some days, I work more than two hours on the project. I sit down with my books at the computer, and I start writing and then I look up, and it’s dark outside. Four, five, six, eight hours have passed. How does that happen? And there’s still more work to do.

Most of the time, I feel happy as I do this research and writing piece. Writing is one of my gifts and spiritual practices; it brings me closer to the Lord and reminds me of my identity as God’s beloved child. I feel peace. I usually remember to take breaks, change gears, go outside and walk, make a pastoral call, eat meals, spend some time relaxing with my family. But sometimes I lie in bed at night wondering if I will ever finish this 100-page paper. And if I do, will it be good enough? Then, in the morning, in the light of day, I climb out of bed and, with the Spirit of the Lord upon me as I seek to be obedient to my ministry calling, I have new energy, new thoughts and ideas, new hope, new joy for the journey ahead.

Those of you who will be ordained and/or installed to active service as elders and deacons today, I want to encourage you that your baptism is sufficient for your calling. You have what you need to do the ministry God desires you to do. But sometimes, you might lie in bed at night and ask yourself, “What was I thinking? What was I thinking when I said yes to serving as a Trustee, a Deacon, or Elder?” Just remember, you are not alone. Work together with the other Deacons. Work together with the other Elders and Trustees. And I’m here to help. And your church family is here. We are all praying for you and cheering you on. Remember that no matter what happens, you are God’s beloved children. Nothing you do will ever change that. And other people are having those same anxious thoughts and moments, maybe not at the exact same time you are, but they have, and they will. Remember that things are always brighter in the light of day. You need to get enough sleep! We have new mercies from our faithful God, even when we, like the people of Christ’s hometown, may be running short on faith. We have new mercies from God every morning. New energy, new hope. New thoughts and ideas. New joy for the journey ahead.

What is the word that Paul wants you to remember from today’s passage? ONE. As you seek to be obedient to your calling, remember that while there are many members, there is only ONE body of Christ. Look around you. This is YOUR BODY. A body without an arm, leg, hand, foot, or toe is incomplete. And that while there are many gifts, there is only ONE that is the most important. Check it out in First Corinthians 13. The most important gift needed for serving in this church and the body of Christ in the world? LOVE.

So, keep going, like Jesus. Persevere through the bumps in the road. Trust the Lord to provide for you and guide you on what will be for you and me a surprising journey of faith. Remember to love. And remember the words of the prophet Isaiah that Jesus read at his hometown synagogue. They were true for him and, now that he has claimed you in baptism, they are true for you, too.

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me.”

Let us pray. Holy One, thank you for your love. Thank you for raising up new leaders for our congregation and leading them to say yes to serving. We trust you to guide, empower, and provide for all our leaders, that when they are discouraged, you will stir the Church to lift them up. When they are tired, anxious, or frustrated, you will grant them peace, joy, and rest. Bless them and all of us—the One Body of Christ—in our labor of love for you. May we always feel your presence and give you thanks for your loving Spirit forever upon us as we seek to be obedient to your will. Amen.

The First of His Signs! Water into Wine!

Meditation on John 2: 1-11

Pastor Karen Crawford

First Presbyterian Church of Smithtown, NY

Jan. 19, 2025

Art by Stushie, used with permission

Have you been to any weddings lately?

The story of the wedding at Cana always makes me remember the little things that go wrong at weddings. One time, when I was presiding over a wedding in Ohio, the best man dropped the rings. They rolled across the wooden chancel floor and dropped down into the congregation. There was an audible gasp in the room; 200 people or more waited while one of the bridesmaids found the rings and handed them back up to us.

This was right after I had jokingly said to the best man before the wedding, “Don’t drop the rings.” I had never said that before. I’ve never said it since.

 I always assure the bride and groom during the pre-marital counseling sessions that even if something unexpected happens, everything will be alright. They will still be married. The bride and their wedding will still be beautiful. I encourage them to keep going, as if nothing happened, and more often than not, no one else notices something has gone wrong.

Running out of wine at a wedding reception in biblical times would be pretty difficult to conceal. An abundance of wine was especially important at weddings in Jesus’ time. Everyone drank wine. Wedding parties went on for days and nights, sometimes as long as a week.

Jesus, his mother, and the disciples were invited to this wedding, so they must have known the families involved. The reality is that we don’t know anything about the wedding itself, even though the story is always talked about as “The Wedding in Cana.” We don’t know who presided over the service or where it took place. We never actually meet the bride and groom. (The groom is mentioned near the end of the passage, but he doesn’t have a speaking part, and he never finds out what really happened, not that we know of.)

I’ve always thought the problem was that the bride and groom and their parents would have been embarrassed if they ran out of wine and the party ended prematurely. But I never thought about who would be persecuted if that happened—the servants, some that might have been hired expressly for helping at the big event.

Mary’s relationship with the servants, the bride and groom, and the families is something of a mystery here. Why was she helping behind the scenes and, in fact, in charge of the servants of someone else’s household? This passage presents her as a take-charge kind of individual and compassionate—not only for the bride and groom and their families, but for the servants.

Her behavior and attitude remind me a little of Jesus. But that shouldn’t surprise us, since she is his mother! What a treasure this passage is for us; it acts as a window into their relationship. He is ALWAYS Mary’s son, just like our children will always be our children, no matter how old they are or the importance of their jobs and callings. Mary appears to be unafraid to speak her mind to Jesus and tell him what to do, when he needs it, even if he is the Son of God, Messiah, and Savior of the World.

There’s been a lot of talk about Jesus refraining from calling Mary “Mother” in this passage. He calls her, “Woman.” Right? We don’t know what he is thinking or feeling at the time, just that he disagrees with her, at first. Maybe he’s saying “Woman,” with a smile teasing at his lips and a gentle tone. We can’t tell from the text. Scholars assure us that Jesus calling her “Woman” was a term of respect and not uncommon. That Mary is called “the mother of Jesus” and not “Mary” in this passage was also a sign of respect, affirming her relationship with the Son of God.

Reading the passage this week, I began to think that Jesus and Mary seem to know each other’s minds, which is more evidence of their close relationship. She doesn’t tell him to do anything about the wine problem. She doesn’t tell him what to do, at all. She says, “They have no wine.” I am imagining she’s using a certain tone to her voice and maybe a raised eyebrow, as she looks intently at him.

Jesus knows his mother wants him to fix the problem. But he tries to tell her that it isn’t his problem. Or her problem, either, for that matter. It makes you wonder if they have had these kinds of conversations before. He asks her, “Woman, what concern is that to you and to me?” Maybe he wasn’t in the mood for miracles. Maybe he didn’t think a wedding reception was the time and place. Maybe he was just messing with her and knew that he was going to do a miracle, all along.

He says, “My hour has not yet come,” foreshadowing when he will tell his disciples in John 12:23, after some Greeks come looking for him at the Festival of the Passover, “The hour is come that the Son of man should be glorified.” And there’s another foreshadowing in this passage—at the very beginning, when we learn that the wedding in Cana of Galilee happens “on the third day.” What else happens on the third day in Christ’s story? Yes, he will rise from the dead!

Mary doesn’t answer her son’s protest, that this isn’t the time or place for miracles. She just ignores him and tells the servants to do whatever he asks of them. The wedding at Cana reveals the faith of Mary, faith in his power and willingness to help, even if it seemed like his answer was no. She doesn’t know how he will do it, but she is sure that a miracle will happen. And for this, she is a model for us—to believe in Christ’s power and willingness to help us in our time of need. And to be surprised by the abundance of our blessings!

There’s no trumpet fanfare. No attention drawn to Jesus, his mother, and the disciples. This isn’t like the feeding of the multitude, where everyone experiences the miracle together. This is a quiet, behind the scenes miracle, a story unknown to the bridal party and guests, but shared with Christ’s followers with joy, over and over again, for generations to come.

Jesus, the one who will say in John 15, “I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing,” tells the servants to fill six stone jars with water, then draw some out and take it to the chief steward. The steward, not let in on the secret, confirms that the wine that was just water tastes better than the wine served at the beginning. “Everyone serves the good wine first, and the inferior wine after the guests have become drunk,” the chief steward says to the bridegroom, maybe with a wink. “But you have kept the good wine until now.”

So, my friends, now that you have considered the first of Jesus’ signs, the wedding in Cana of Galilee—when Jesus turned water into wine—I ask you, what signs have you seen that have revealed the presence of God to you, the ONE who is living and active in your life? When have you felt your abiding in the vine? When have you and others seen you bearing much fruit because of your abiding?

When have you realized your need for Jesus –and that apart from him, you can do nothing? And that with God, nothing is impossible.

As we continue in the season of Epiphany, a season of revelation, a time to recognize the arrival of God’s plan in Jesus and to look forward to God’s ongoing action through Christ….

Are you ready to be surprised by joy as you encounter the Lord’s goodness and mercy, abundant blessings that overflow from your cup, like David’s cup in Psalm 23, all the days of your life?

Are you ready like Mary for the power of God to be made known in Christ’s everyday miracles, maybe behind the scenes, quietly, but miracles, nonetheless, that signal the pouring out of God’s love, like water into wine, a love that never runs dry.

Are you ready, like his first disciples, to be strengthened in your faith when you see more signs that reveal Christ’s glory?

Let us pray.

Holy One, thank you for calling us to be your branches in the vine of Jesus Christ. And the assurance that if we remain in Christ, we will bear much fruit, but apart from Him, we can do nothing. Thank you for the example of Mary, who trusted in her son, Your Son, and the power of his miracles, such as the turning of water into wine at the wedding at Cana, the first of His signs, a revelation of his identity. Thank you for your willingness to help us in our time of need. Open our eyes, Lord, so that we recognize your goodness and mercy and abundant blessings that overflow daily from our cups, like David’s in Psalm 23. May we see Christ’s glory through everyday happenings and be strengthened in our faith. Amen.

Filled with Expectation!

Meditation on Luke 3:15–17, 21–22

Baptism of Our Lord Sunday

Rev. Karen Crawford

Jan. 12, 2025

Art by Stushie, used with permission

We have just made a new memory together! One more for the history books!

We remembered our baptisms and recognized those who have been baptized in our church. Most of those present today who were baptized in our church were baptized with water from our beautiful marble baptismal font, dating back to 1939.

Did you know that our baptismal font has eight sides? Do you know why? Eight is for the day after the Sabbath, when Christ was raised, and there was a NEW CREATION.

YOU, my friends, are now raised to live abundantly and eternally with Him.

Edward N. and Samuel H. Abbey gave the font to the congregation in memory of their parents. Dr. Edward Abbey served as minister here from 1903 to 1937. Our history book says, “He was a stately and dignified man who was active in the community. He helped establish the first bank; campaigned for an organized fire department; worked earnestly for a new public school. His wife Augusta Hammill Abbey died in 1934. Three years later, in his 89th year, Dr. Abbey retired for health reasons.” He died in his sleep that same year. But at his 89th birthday party, he said, “People are my hobby. I love to meet them and help them with their troubles. And when I can no longer help people, I shall know my mission is over.” [1]

From what I have heard about Rev. Dr. Abbey, I believe his caring, servant spirit captures the spirit of our congregation, the First Presbyterian Church in Smithtown. Yes, we are a Church of Jesus Christ. We belong to Him. But we are all about people. Our calling, as Dulcie McLeod shared in her Epiphany message last Sunday, is to BELIEVE. We believe in people, and we make it our aim to help one another find our callings and live out our baptisms, knowing and doing the Lord’s will for our lives and our church. And we believe in ourselves, as God has made us, and the Spirit is transforming and recreating us, and as we are affirmed by the love and grace of one another. And we believe in our Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who brought light into our darkness, claims us in our baptisms, and strengthens us daily to live faithfully.

Merriam Webster says BELIEVE means “to be true or honest, to accept the word or evidence of, or to hold as an opinion,” or “suppose,” such as “I believe it will rain soon.” When we say BELIEVE IN, we change the meaning slightly, “to accept something as true, genuine, or real, to have a firm or wholehearted religious conviction or persuasion,” such as regarding “the existence of God as a fact” or “to have a firm conviction as to the goodness, efficacy, or ability of something” or someone. To NOT BELIEVE is “to be astounded at.”

This word we sometimes translate in English as BELIEVE is pistis in Greek, with some different connotations than our English word. Pistis “in Greek mythology was the personification of good faith, trust, and reliability.” Pistis in the New Testament is often translated as “faith” and shown to be the opposite of fear. After Jesus calms the storm in Mark chapter 4, he says to his disciples, cowering in the boat, “Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?” Faith here is pistin—same root as pistis. But when the New Testament talks about BELIEVING IN something or someone, that word pistis may be translated TRUST.

TRUST, to me, is different from BELIEVE. TRUST involves commitment and loyalty. TRUST isn’t just a matter of the mind or intellect. TRUST engages the heart, mind, and soul and empowers us to do what we never imagined we could have done before. Like the Apostle Paul says in Philippians 4:13, “I can do all things through Him that strengthens me.”

In our passage in Luke today, the people are coming in droves to be baptized, filled with hope and anticipation that they will meet their long-awaited Messiah. They expect him to be John the Baptizer, but then God surprises them, exceeds their expectations. The heavens open and the Holy Spirit descends on Jesus like a dove. A voice speaks from above, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

A few days ago, I said to my husband, “What was I thinking when I went away to seminary? Driving to Princeton every week for two years and leaving my husband and family behind in York, PA?” That must have seemed crazy to the rest of my family. It certainly did to my editors at the newspaper where I worked as a journalist. It was a hard thing to do. Many times, I cried myself to sleep at night, with only my shelty, Molly, at my apartment in Princeton for company. I wiped away tears as I made the 2 hour and 15-minute drive one way on the Pennsylvania Turnpike every Monday morning.

Looking back, I know I was living into my baptism—seeking to follow God’s will for my life. It’s easy to see that now, but then, it was scary. What empowered me was that I was so grateful for God’s faithfulness to my family and me. I wanted to be a blessing to the Church. The only way I could have done such a thing was with the loving support of my husband, Jim. I could not have done it without him. He believed in me. His love strengthened me to trust in our relationship, trust in myself, and trust in the Lord, who exceeded, without a doubt, my expectations.

This year, as we celebrate God’s faithfulness for 350 years of ministry in Smithtown and 200 years in this sanctuary, let us TRUST in one another. May we encourage everyone to live into and live out our baptisms more than ever before. May our TRUST build our love, unity, and peace, and strengthen us for ministry for the next 200 years.

May our TRUST in ourselves rub off on others, so that they who may be insecure or fearful may be emboldened and delighted to serve, to stand firm as God’s Beloved, who can never fail!

May we, as Proverbs 3:5-6 tells us, Trust in the Lord with all our hearts and lean not on our own understanding. In all our ways, may we acknowledge and give thanks to the Lord God, who directs our paths.

This is my hope for you this year, my friends. May you be filled with expectation, like the crowded coming to be baptized by John, that you will meet your Messiah every time you enter into worship with your church family. May you leave your doubts outside these old walls, doubts about other people, doubts about yourself. Leave them all behind in the parking lot! And don’t pick them up again when you depart from this place in the love of God, peace of Christ, and power and unity of the Spirit.

Sisters and brothers, we can do all things through Christ who strengthens us!

TRUST in the One who will meet all your needs and help you moment by moment, day by day.

TRUST in the One who will fill you with hope and exceed your expectations.

Will you pray with me?

Holy, Triune God, thank you for your love for us and the whole world and for revealing Your Son, the Messiah, at the River Jordan, where for us and our salvation, he was baptized by John. Thank you for your faithfulness to our congregation, for guiding and equipping us for ministry in Christ’s name for 350 years. Strengthen us to live into and live out our baptisms every day, led by the Spirit, seeking to be obedient to your will. And as we learn to TRUST in other people, in ourselves, and in you, most of all, fill us with hope. Grant us peace as we anticipate that you will exceed our expectations. Amen.

     [1] J. Richard Mehalick. Church and Community (1675-1975) The Story of the First Presbyterian Church of Smithtown, 2nd edition, 2010.

Christmas Moments

Meditation on Luke 2:1–20

First Presbyterian Church of Smithtown, NY

Pastor Karen Crawford

Christmas Eve: Dec. 24, 2024

Art by Stushie, used with permission

Does everyone have their Christmas trees decorated?

This is the first time in many years that I haven’t put up a large Christmas tree! We only have a small artificial tree on a table in our entrance way this year. It just seemed the thing to do since we are leaving for Florida tomorrow to spend the holidays with my mom.

I gave some serious thought to buying a live tree – you know, a little one in a pot—before I put up the small artificial one after Thanksgiving. I could plant the live one in the yard in springtime! But I was afraid it would dry out and die while we are away. It would need to be watered every day. And besides, my cat Liam might eat it while we are gone.

I heard a devotion early this month about live-cut Christmas trees that inspired me. Our executive presbyter, the Rev. Kate Jones Calone, had read an article in the New York Times about the proper care of live-cut Christmas trees—how to keep them healthy, hydrated and green throughout the season. She made a connection with our need to keep ourselves spiritually healthy, hydrated, and green throughout Advent and Christmas. I looked for the article, found one by Jonathan Wolfe in 2016, and, sure enough, I made the same connection with the proper care of live-cut trees.

Did any of you buy a live-cut tree this year? Where did you get it? Do you know where the tree was grown? Wolfe discovered that “by the time they are cut down, the fir trees at (one seller), Wilkens Fruit and Fir Farm in Yorktown Heights, will have grown up in two states, traveled hundreds of miles and lived the equivalent of going from kindergarten to senior prom.” [1]

“That’s quite a journey to a living room,” he writes, “covered in tinsel and ornaments. The farm’s 25,000 trees started life in places like North Carolina or New Mexico, first as seeds plucked from cones. They remained in warmer climates for four years, moving to larger beds as they grew from sprouts to saplings. Then they were shipped to and planted on this 22-acre farm about 30 miles north of the city. [2] The farm’s operations manager, Randy Pratt, said that the Douglas, Fraser, and Canaan firs spend eight to 10 years at this farm, before locals and “day trippers” from the city come to cut them down.

That’s a lot of time for the trees to be nourished, nurtured, and grow to just the right size to be your Christmas tree. But it’s up to us to keep the trees hydrated, as soon as we bring them home, or you know what will happen. They will turn brown and drop all their needles on your rug. Here’s something important you may not know. Before you put it in water in a tree stand, you need to prune an inch or two off the bottom of your Christmas tree. “Sap hardens,” Randy said, “and they scab over.” [3] The fresh cut allows the tree to take in water.

Kate’s discussion questions with her devotion challenged me. The first one was, “what do you need to trim—and maybe trim, release again—to be able to receive God’s restoration in this season?” The second, “What is it that, like the water in the tree stand, restores you?” And the third, “And how can you help someone else experience God’s restoration?”

After some time of consideration, I would have to say the thing that I needed to cut away or release and release again to receive God’s restoration was to let go of expectations for myself and forgive myself when I couldn’t keep up with my ever-growing to-do list, because of course I couldn’t. Did anyone else have trouble keeping up with your expectations for yourself?

The third one, how do I help others experience God’s restoration, led me to do many calls and visits and write notes in Christmas cards to my flock. I particularly enjoyed delivering more than a dozen tins of cookies that loving hands made in our church kitchen on the First Sunday of Advent.

The second one, what restores me, led me to keep my heart open for what I want to call Christmas moments—things that happened that truly stirred me to joy and reminded me of the hope and promise of our Savior, who came to us as one of us, is coming again, and is with us now and forever.

The moment that stands out to me the most, when I felt the Lord’s presence so powerfully, was when I was one of a group of 10 people to go Christmas caroling to home and nursing home bound members. Tears flowed, hugs and cookies were given. I know we were a blessing to others, but we, too, were blessed and spiritually refreshed.

When we sang, our voices blended perfectly, as if we had help from an angel choir.

“And heaven and nature sing. And heaven and nature sing. And heaven and heaven and nature sing.”

On Christmas Eve, we ponder and treasure the story of Christ’s birth in the gospel of Luke. We hear about the census that interrupted the lives of people in the Roman Empire, young and old, being forced to report, all at once, to the now overcrowded towns of their ancestors, though it meant that many, not just Mary and Joseph, would not have a place to stay for the night. Luke doesn’t tell us about the long, arduous journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem. He assumes his hearers have experienced the 90 miles that was likely done on foot, despite Christmas cards and stamps showing Mary on a donkey. The journey included uphill and downhill sections, rough, unpaved trails, and a heavily forested valley. I wonder, how did they keep themselves spiritually healthy and physically strong for the four or five days or more of walking, with Mary in her 9th month of pregnancy?

When they arrived, there was little time to rest and recover. Verse 6, “While they were there (in the town of David), the time came for her to deliver her child.” There were no doctors or midwives. Not even a female relative to help. No clothes for the baby. She wrapped him in strips of cloth. A feeding trough was his bed. In this humble setting, the unexpected grace of God appeared.

This Christmas Eve, I am captivated by the song of the angels in this passage, remembering how the Christmas carols stirred the hearts of our members in need and how peaceful and happy we felt while singing them. The angels sang God’s praise as the amazed shepherds watched and listened with their flocks in the field below. “Glory to God in the highest heaven,” they sang, “and on earth peace among those whom he favors!” The shepherds’ lives are forever changed. They go with haste in hope, to see, as the angels told them, wrapped in bands of cloth, lying in a manger, in the city of David, a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.

Mary had endured hardship during her pregnancy, being unmarried and young, and then a difficult delivery after the long, arduous journey, far from home and family. But she is a model to us of listening for God, seeking God’s will for herself and her family, especially her son. She listened intently to the shepherds’ story of the angels singing praise to God’s glory, bringing the good news, and sending them to Bethlehem to find her child.

She listened. Pondered. Believed. Then she treasured their words in her heart. Her son’s miraculous conception and birth and the prophecies regarding him would strengthen her in the years to come—all the way to the cross and empty tomb.

Well, when I began to feel weary with the busy-ness of the season, I started looking for Christmas moments in earnest. I went to four Presbyterian Women Christmas parties and was blessed with laughter, sharing meals, and swapping stories with my sisters in Christ. Helping the children prepare for their Christmas program provided an abundance of delightful moments. One rehearsal, I pointed to the empty manger and asked Natalie, the little girl who played Mary, if she had a baby doll we could use. She said, “Yes,” she had a doll, but we couldn’t use it. It didn’t look ANYTHING like Jesus! Another time, I complimented the angels in the youngest class on how cute they looked in their costumes. Bronx made a face and said, “I’m no angel!” “I know,” I said, lowering my voice as if we were sharing a secret. “But we can pretend, right?” His face said he wasn’t convinced.

Still, the songs we sang while caroling to members in need stayed with me and strengthened me in the days and weeks that followed. I remembered them when I was taking walks, doing household chores, riding in a car, just before I fell asleep at night, and when I woke up.

May the hearing and singing of the grace-filled story of Christ’s birth on this Holy Night leave you feeling refreshed and renewed—rehydrated in the faith, watered like a properly cared for live cut Christmas tree. May you depart from here in peace, releasing or trimming from your mind and life what is needed so that you experience God’s joy and restoration.  

May you, on your life’s journey, near and far, be mindful of—consider, ponder, believe in and treasure— Christmas moments that our gracious God reveals, not just in December, but throughout the new year. May you know with all certainty the hope and promise of our Savior, who came to us as one of us, is coming again, and is with us now and forever.

May you hear, like the shepherds, the songs of angels. And may you be bold to sing, wherever you are, whatever you are doing, and help others experience God’s joy and restoration.  

“And heaven and nature sing. And heaven and nature sing. And heaven and heaven and nature sing.”

Let us pray.

Loving God, thank you for the faith of Mary, giving birth to Emmanuel, God-with-us, a fragile baby in a humble setting after an arduous journey. Thank you for the greatest gift of all—a Savior for all people. Tonight, may each of us hear the songs of angels and be bold to sing along, witnessing to our faith and leading others to experience God’s joy and restoration. May everyone gathered in this place or listening on the livestream know, with all certainty, the hope and promise of the Messiah, Jesus the Christ, who came to us as one of us, is coming again, and is with us now and forever. Amen.

     [1] Jonathan Wolfe, “New York Today: Keeping a Christmas Tree Green,” New York Times, Dec. 1, 2026 at https://www.nytimes.com/2016/12/01/nyregion/new-york-today-keeping-a-christmas-tree-green.html

     [2] Jonathan Wolfe, New York Times, at https://www.nytimes.com/2016/12/01/nyregion/new-york-today-keeping-a-christmas-tree-green.html

     [3] Jonathan Wolfe at https://www.nytimes.com/2016/12/01/nyregion/new-york-today-keeping-a-christmas-tree-green.html

Comfort, O Comfort My People

Meditation on Luke 3:1-6

First Presbyterian Church of Smithtown

Pastor Karen Crawford

Second Sunday of Advent

Dec. 8, 2024

Art by Stushie

I took my cat, Liam, to the vet this week. It was time for his yearly exam and rabies’ shot.

I worried how I would get him into his cat carrier, which has so many memories for him and for me. He stayed in the carrier when the movers loaded up our furniture in Ohio. He traveled by car in that carrier for several days and nights stayed in hotels, while we waited for the manse to be ready for our arrival.

Since the move in 2022, he has gone only one place in that carrier. You guessed it—to the vet.

So on Monday, on the day of his doctor’s appointment, I left the carrier on a dining room chair and went to the family room to pick him up and cuddle him, before bringing him to the carrier and zipping him inside.

He didn’t want to go. He put out a paw and tried to stop me.

I moved quickly, apologizing all the while, knowing how scared he was and why.

He only made one sound the entire trip. He let out a mew! when we walked outside into the cold. It was a sad mew! He has always been an indoor cat, so the outside is something he has only experienced from a window. It’s out of his comfort zone.

I held his carrier in my lap while Jim drove. Liam stayed in my lap the whole time in the waiting room. After a short wait, we were invited to the examining room. I placed the carrier on the metal table, unzipped it, and tried to lift him out. Tried and failed! He was holding on to the furry bottom of the carrier for dear life.

When I finally was able to lift him, he grabbed the top of the carrier with his claws—and he wouldn’t let go.

I had to pull his claws out of the material, one by one, to free him.

And then, he was completely exposed and vulnerable on the cold metal table.

Nowhere to hide. Nowhere to go: held tightly by the hands of the vet, her assistant, and me. The vet was speaking in soothing tones, I was petting him gently, but he was making himself one with the table, making his body as flat as possible, frozen in fear.

The vet was examining every imperfection in his body. She looked in his ears and his mouth. His gums were a little red, she said. Did I want to brush his teeth? She shone a light in his eyes. There was an old scar on his cornea, but it looked like it had healed okay. I pointed out a cut on his back—maybe something he had done to himself when he was zooming through the house. But it, too, was healing OK, she said.

Then, he was jabbed with a needle in his back. He didn’t move. Didn’t make a sound. He accepted the medicine that would keep him well, without knowing that it would keep him well. He didn’t protest when I picked him up. He clung to me, then, for a moment, accepting my comfort and the security of my arms before practically leaping back into the carrier when I opened it below him.

The way he was so scared in the carrier, and so vulnerable on the table, and yet clung to me and trusted me made me think of how John beckoned people to approach the Lord in his baptism of repentance. He wanted people to give up control—or the control we think we have of our lives—and allow our merciful and gracious God to do what is good with and for us.

The story of John’s baptism has always been a little intimidating to me—the idea of repentance from sin being the way we prepare our hearts for the Lord, who can see us as we really are—all our faults, all our imperfections. As Psalm 139 says in the last two verses, “Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my thoughts. See if there is any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.”

Still, John the Baptizer is one of my favorite people in the Bible. He is certainly one of a kind. He is the one that the Eastern Orthodox Tradition sees as the last prophet of the Old Covenant. What you see is what you get. He doesn’t mince words. He calls a spade, well, a spade. He’s the one who proclaims the coming of the Savior, but not from the temple or synagogue. He’s outside hearing from God in Creation. He has left society behind to make himself completely vulnerable and dependent on God, dressed not in fashionable robes which his father, Zechariah, the priest could probably afford but only in the skin of a camel. He isn’t eating the usual diet of his people, either. He eats locusts!

In the wilderness, with no other distractions, he hears God speaking through the prophet Isaiah. The words come alive to him in a new way. And he realizes that he is the one of whom the prophet spoke 800 years before. His message stirs excitement in all who are mysteriously drawn from the cities and countryside to John. He is saying what the prophet declared is finally coming true.

Any history lovers here? Luke provides 7 historical markers—of time, place and political reality—for John’s proclamation. “Why? To anchor the story of salvation history in the concrete, tangible history of the world.”[1] One theologian wonders, “What do any of these people have to do with the good news, the gospel of Jesus Christ?” Luke sees a connection, when none of them would want to be remembered in connection with Jesus, the Savior of the world.

Tiberius Caesar was in his 15th year of his reign. Pontius Pilate was the fifth governor of the Roman province of Judea. He would be forever remembered as the one who presided over Christ’s trial and ordered his crucifixion. We mention his name every time we say the Apostles’ and Nicene creeds. Herod Antipas, the son of the Jewish King Herod the Great and his wife, Malthace, was ruler of Galilee. Herod Antipas’s half-brother Philip ruled the region of Ituraea. Lysanias was ruler of Abilene on the eastern slope of the anti-Lebanon Mountain range, near Damascus. Annas and Caiaphas were high priests.

What Luke is saying is the time has come for the prophecies of God to be fulfilled. John the Baptist is ministering just when the Jewish community, living under Roman occupation, is desperate for the glory of the Lord to be revealed and to finally see God’s salvation. [2]

In Advent, when we are longing for the birth of Christ, who brings Light into the world, some of the Scripture that we read are dark and leave us feeling unsettled. “Of all the passages in scripture that seem to foretell the coming of a messiah, this is one of the most joyful, projecting God’s mercy rather than vengeance.” [3] It’s too bad that we don’t have the full chapter in our lectionary reading, but I want you to hear how it begins,

“Comfort, O comfort my people,
    says your God.
Speak tenderly to Jerusalem,
    and cry to her
that she has served her term,
    that her penalty is paid,
that she has received from the Lord’s hand
    double for all her sins.” (40:1-2)

Also, in verse 11, Isaiah will say, God will “feed his flock like a shepherd” (40:11).

This is not a new message that John proclaims. His call for repentance or radical change aren’t new, either, but connecting repentance with immersion baptism is.

When we consider baptism, especially as we practice it in the Church today, we can’t help but see the grace of God in it. Baptism isn’t something we can do for ourselves. We are baptized. All we do is receive it or present our child to receive it by the water in the font, and always in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.

We and our children are claimed by our Savior in baptism. We may make the decision to follow Christ and be baptized, but the Savior is still the one who claims US. We are accepted, loved, and fully known and blessed, once and forever, just as we are. It’s the beginning of the Christian life. There’s no moment in our journey of faith that leaves us more vulnerable and open to God and the Church of Jesus Christ than in baptism. We give up who we used to be. We take on Christ’s identity and become a member of Christ’s Body. No longer alone, we are united as the Church and continually transformed and renewed by the Spirit.

In this Season of waiting for the One who was and is and is to come, we recall with joy the cry of the voice in the wilderness—the one who was sent by God to prepare the way of the Lord and bring us who have strayed back to God with hearts of repentance.

The glory of the Lord has been revealed to us; our salvation has come through the One who has claimed us (not the other way around), and fully knows and accepts us, just as we are.

We are invited into a new humility when we recognize our need for God and our deep spiritual connection to one another, our sisters and brothers in Christ. We can trust the God who sees all our imperfections, much like the gentle vet who examined Liam early this week with a heart to heal.

God looks upon us with compassion in our distress, even when the distress is brought on by our own unwise choices and actions. God loves us too much to leave us alone, in our comfort zones. The Lord knows what is good for us and for the Church. Our God, who feeds his flock like a shepherd, won’t rest until what is broken is made whole.

Do you hear our gracious and merciful Lord speaking to us right now? Saying, “Comfort, O comfort my people?”

Let us pray.

Good Shepherd, thank you for the ministry of John the Baptizer long ago. Thank you for his message in the wilderness that was embraced by thousands of people and remains the same today—calling us to change, repent and turn back to you and the ways of peace. Thank you for your Son’s claim on us in our baptism. Help us to be faithful to the call. Lord, we ask you now to look upon us with compassion, especially when we forget that we are not sheep without a Shepherd. Please heal what is broken and make us whole. In Christ we pray. Amen.

     [1] Feasting on the Word, Year C, Vol. 1, p. 46.

     [2] Catherine Healy, Christian Century, Dec. 2, 2024.

     [3] Catherine Healing, Dec. 2, 2024.

The Lesson of the Fig Tree

Meditation on Luke 21:25–36

First Presbyterian Church of Smithtown

Pastor Karen Crawford

First Sunday of Advent

Dec. 1, 2024

I like figs. Do you like figs?

In a tryout sermon, years ago on the First Sunday of Advent, I shared a children’s message about the lesson of the fig tree. I brought fig newtons for the children to eat as I told them about the hope of Christ’s return.

I told them that it was my favorite cookie. They stared at me blankly. They hadn’t had them before and of course it was their first time meeting me, as well. Later on, an aunt of one of the children said she felt sorry for me -if fig newtons were my favorite. Hadn’t I ever had chocolate chip cookies before? she asked, rolling her eyes playfully.

I was happy, then, to discover in my research for my doctoral project this summer and fall that at least three of the gardeners are growing fig trees. I am not the only one who likes figs!

But it surely can’t be easy growing a tree native to Mediterranean countries in our Long Island gardens, decks, and patios.

Have you ever noticed fig trees popping up all over the Scriptures?

It is the first fruit mentioned by name in the Bible. It’s in the story of Adam and Eve in Genesis. Of course, it’s not the forbidden fruit that Eve eats and gives to Adam. It’s the leaves of the tree the couple uses when their eyes are opened, after they eat it, and realize they are naked. They sew fig leaves together and make loincloths to help them hide from God when they are ashamed.

In Song of Solomon chapter 2 (vv. 11-13), fig trees are named for their beauty and scent, a sign of the arrival of spring, and an expression of God’s love for Israel:

For now the winter is past,
    the rain is over and gone.
12 The flowers appear on the earth;
    the time of singing has come,
and the voice of the turtledove
    is heard in our land.
13 The fig tree puts forth its figs,
    and the vines are in blossom;
    they give forth fragrance.
Arise, my love, my fair one,
    and come away.

In today’s reading in Luke 21, Jesus specifically names the fig tree to teach a spiritual lesson to his disciples. If you want to know when the Son of Man will return, “Look at the fig tree and all the trees,” he says, after warning of the signs of his coming. “As soon as they sprout leaves you can see for yourselves and know that summer is already near.”

Figs are an ancient fruit. Dried ones dating back to the Neolithic Age or 5,000 years before Christ were found in an excavation of a city on the western slopes of the Judean mountains. Figs played an important role in daily nutrition in biblical times. Because of their high sugar content, they could be dried, pressed into cakes, stored for long periods of time, like raisins and other delicacies, and offered as gifts. The fig tree or vine is among seven species in Micah 4:4 that symbolize prosperity and peace.

At least 1,000 different species of fig trees exist, mostly in tropical areas; some are wild; others are domesticated. The original fig tree species may have come from the jungles of northwest Turkey, an expert says. But the fig isn’t that easy to grow. It grows very slowly and may take years to bear fruit. And it’s not that pleasant or attractive. In Mediterranean countries, it grows to about 3 to 5 meters tall and has large leaves, rough to the touch. All parts of the plant contain a latex that is a skin irritant and may cause an allergic reaction.

Wild figs have female flowers that produce fruit and seeds and male flowers that don’t; the pollination of the female flowers depends on the work of a particular species of a tiny wasp. It’s a miracle, really, if this is the plant that Jesus is talking about—the wild fig tree that depends on one tiny wasp to bear any fruit at all.

This is the same plant that, in Luke 13 (vv. 6-9), Jesus talks about in another parable. This time, the fruitless fig tree is a metaphor for those who fail to repent and the long patience of God, the gardener.

 A man had a fig tree growing in his vineyard, and he went to look for fruit on it but did not find any. So he said to the man who took care of the vineyard, ‘For three years now I’ve been coming to look for fruit on this fig tree and haven’t found any. Cut it down! Why should it use up the soil?’

 ‘Sir,’ the man replied, ‘leave it alone for one more year, and I’ll dig around it and fertilize it. If it bears fruit next year, fine! If not, then cut it down.’”

After church, oh, about a month ago, a couple that I interviewed for my project brought me a branch from their fig tree, wrapped in foil. They told me to put in water and wait for roots to grow before planting it.

I went home, put it in a jar of water and left it on a sunny shelf in the dining room. Then, I forgot about it. A couple of weeks later, I remembered it, and all the leaves had turned brown and fallen off. It was just a dried-up stick. I thought, “Oh well.” Another failure. But I changed the water and put it on the bathroom sink, where it would have not only light, but a more humid environment.

I forgot about it again—the stick in the water jar. I had other things on my mind—pastoral care needs for my flock and my own health challenge.

I went to see a new optometrist this week, someone recommended by someone else who was recommended, and I was so excited after I saw her. We talked about our faith; she sees her work as a ministry. She examined my eyes thoroughly and listened to my struggle after my surgeries last summer. She prescribed glasses with prisms for my double vision. I don’t have them, yet, and I don’t know for sure that they will work for me, but I have hope now that I didn’t have before. Later, I realized that she gave me hope through the present of her presence and the peaceful presence of Christ that lives within her, within all of us who believe.

After I shared my good news with my husband, I caught sight of the fig branch, and I couldn’t believe what I saw! That half-dead looking stick grew roots, and, not only that, it has a green fig! This was after I came up with the title for my message this week, “The Lesson of the Fig Tree.” The lesson of the fig tree was for me!

This is the branch on Dec. 1, 2024 that rooted and produced a fig when I put it in a cup of water.
This is the Fig Tree Branch on Jan 4, 2025! Wow!

I just have to be patient and keep on hoping, praying, and waiting as I prepare my heart for the return of my Savior. That’s our focus, dear friends. We don’t have to fix every problem in our lives. We don’t have to fix every problem in everyone else’s lives. That’s not how we get ready. Christ does the work of healing and reconciliation. But we can hold onto hope in our Savior, who has already come and is coming again! And we can offer our hope through the present of presence to the weary world around us.

I would like to close my message with a list of suggestions for offering hope through the present of presence this Advent. This is from Joyce Rupp’s book, Out of the Ordinary. Ready?

Be with someone who needs you.

Be with a person who gives you hope.

Be with those who live in fear or whose hope is faint.

Be with an older person.

Be with a child.

Be with a teenager.

Be with a family member or friend.

Be with someone who has helped you to grow.

Be with one who is in pain.

Be with one who is grieving.

Be with someone in prison.

           Be with someone who is homeless and food insecure.

           Be with someone struggling with substance abuse.

           Be with someone who is abused or neglected.

           Be with your loved ones.

           Be with yourself.

Let us pray. God of hope and love, you were so generous, sending the presence of your Beloved to dwell among us and to tell us who you are. Encourage us this Advent season to continue in the sharing of this loving presence through our attentiveness, given in prayer and acts of kindness. You who dwell within us, remind us often to let go of our busyness and hurriedness so that we can be with others in a loving way. Convince us that being is as important as doing. Thank you for being with us. Amen.

A House Not Made with Human Hands

Meditation on John 14 and Second Corinthians 5:1-9

In Memory of John H. Davidsen

November 27, 1927 to November 22, 2024

Pastor Karen Crawford

December 1, 2024

John Davidsen was a builder by trade and calling, a master carpenter. He learned his skills by working alongside his Norwegian immigrant father, his Uncle Dan, and his brother, Alfred. They built houses and churches across Long Island. He eventually became employed with Nastasi White in New York City and took great pride in having helped remodel Carnegie Hall, The Museum of Natural History, and the Cornell University Alumni Center.

He didn’t expect to follow in his father’s footsteps. He had other hopes and dreams.

He was born on November 27, 1927, in Brooklyn—two years before the Wall Street crash. The Great Depression would shape his formative years and his character, personality, and life experiences. Difficult times made him realize what was important in life—family, friendships, faith. He was a calm man, courageous and confident. An explorer and adventurer. He always had a smile. Maybe the most amazing thing that I heard about John was that he rode a bicycle, when he was 13 or 14, from Brooklyn to Baltimore with his best friend, Ralph. Although they did see a movie in Baltimore, the journey itself, including the friend he was with, was likely the reason for traveling and not just the destination.

The third of four children born to Harriet and John Davidsen was a hard worker from his youth. He was willing to work where he could find it and people trusted him to do a good job—setting up pins in a bowling alley, working for a dry cleaner, selling flowers, and assisting at a printing press. The printing press job led to his pursuit of education, training, and graduation in June 1945 from the New York School of Printing in Manhattan, now the High School of Graphic Communication Arts.

But John wanted to serve his country, help with the war effort, and see the world. When he turned 18 later in 1945, he enlisted in the U.S. Navy. Aboard the Destroyer USS Mayrant, DD-402, he traveled to Bikini Atoll, a coral reef in the Marshall Islands, arriving at the end of May 1946. The Mayrant was designated as a test ship for Operation Crossroads, the 1946 atomic bomb tests. John would witness the first underwater nuclear bomb detonation. Afterward, John boarded the destroyer USS Chevalier, DD-805, toured the Western Pacific, and spent time moored off China. He saw parts of the country before the culmination of the Communist Revolution and “The People’s Republic” in 1949. He was stationed in Hawaii before it became our 50th state, when it was still wild and beautiful, before it was all built up.

The good natured, optimistic man met the love of his life, Eleanor Benes, on a blind date. They were married on Nov. 7, 1953. John drove Eleanor to California for their honeymoon to see his pal, Ralph, who couldn’t make it to the wedding. I imagine the journey there and back was a great adventure, perhaps as much fun as the destination.

John and Eleanor rented an apartment in Manhattan in their first years of marriage. But they saved up and bought the property in Massapequa in 1956. John worked every Saturday for 18 months, with the help of family and friends, building their dream home in which they would live out their lives together. They would make many memories and raise three children there—John, Nancy, and Robert.

The children were baptized and confirmed at St. David’s Lutheran Church in Massapequa. Sundays remained “family days” for many years, while Saturdays would be days that John did side jobs for extra money, with the help of his buddy Ryan. Growing up, the three children remember how their father never raised his voice, never lost his temper, never argued with his wife, and always carved out time for family vacations. This was despite the fact that when he took off from work, he didn’t get paid. He and Eleanor wanted the kids to see and learn about the world around them. They piled in the car, and he drove them to Maine and Montreal and down south to visit museums and battlefields.

When their children were grown, John was happy to spend Saturdays fixing and making improvements on his children’s homes. He inspected and knew his wood, could spot the “keepers” and the ones from Lowes or Home Depot that were “no good.” What he built, he built to last. He worked long hours for his family, sometimes 12 hours at a time, and took pride in his work. Nothing was done halfway. Nothing was just good enough.

The apostle Paul, in his second letter to the Corinthians, uses the analogy of building when he talks about life and death, and everlasting life in the glory that is to come. We live in earthly tents now—not just wood and bricks and mortar homes, but flesh and blood bodies that God created for us to live in the loving ways that God has ordained. These earthly tents are, as Paul says, wasting away, as we age. Paul often complained about his physical problems, partially due to the persecution and imprisonment he experienced as a church planter and ambassador for Christ.

Some people assume that our mortal bodies didn’t matter that much to Paul, but that isn’t true. He is just trying to give us hope in our trials, lift us out of the stress and darkness of our world and see the bright hope of what is to come. But he also wants to strengthen us by giving us a vision of what is possible right now, when we walk by faith and don’t just live by sight. You see, each of us are already fully clothed with the Holy Spirit.

Paul describes our existence in this earthly tent as a kind of groaning, while we long for suffering, pain, and hardship to end and yearn for the promise of God to be fulfilled—our resurrection with Christ. One day, we will have new bodies and will be “further clothed with our heavenly dwelling,” so that “what is mortal may be swallowed up by life.”

Please understand that Paul isn’t saying anything bad about people who build houses on earth—houses made with human hands. In fact, Paul was a tentmaker by trade, and people often lived in and traveled long distances by staying in tents along the way.

Jesus, too, was a carpenter who learned his trade from his earthly father. Jesus uses the language of building houses and preparing rooms when he seeks to encourage his disciples when his life on earth was near the end and the cross was in the road ahead. In John 14, Jesus tells his followers and all of us that he is going to prepare a place for them, for us, in his Father’s House of many rooms. And he will come again and take us there, so that where he is, we will always be with him.

On this day, when we celebrate John Davidsen’s wonderful life, let us remember that the earthly tents that we live in—our miraculous bodies—are also beautiful gifts from a loving God, who is with us always in Spirit. This is a God who has made his home with mortals. We are not alone here. And what we see is not all there is.

John, who witnessed amazing things in his nearly 97 years, with all his journeys across the country and around the world, always knew what was important. And it wasn’t the destinations. It was the journey itself and the people who shared it with him.

He lost the love of his life on April 24, 1998, after a long battle with cancer.

Every Sunday continued to be Family Day after that, when she exchanged her earthly tent for her forever dwelling place. A building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.

Every Sunday, he drove to the cemetery to visit with Eleanor. Then, he would spend time with his children and grandchildren, eating Chinese takeout at the home he dreamed of and built long ago in Massapequa, on Saturdays, with the help from family and friends.

He slipped away to eternity, holding on to his youngest son’s hand, on November 22, leaving us to remember his stories, his love, his goodness and generosity, his ever present smile and ready tool box and miter saws. And his way of never doing anything halfway. Nothing just good enough. How he always said how he never had any regrets. And his advice to his daughter, Nancy, when her husband, Kevin, left this world too soon, “You’ll never stop missing him. But the pain won’t be as sharp.”

I leave you now with the encouraging words of our Savior, who has prepared a place for each of us to live with him, in His Father’s house of many rooms.

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.”

Amen.

What Does It Mean to Live Faithfully?

Meditation on 1 Samuel 1:4–20

First Presbyterian Church of Smithtown, NY

Pastor Karen Crawford

November 17, 2024

Art by Stushie, used with permission

This is my first year serving on the presbytery’s Committee on Ministry. When the Nominating Committee called to invite me to serve, my first instinct was to say no. To say that I was reluctant is an understatement. I’m busy with my own ministry in Smithtown. I’m busy with my family. I am busy with school, especially now that I am in my last year of the doctorate program.

The work continues to be challenging, humbling, exhausting, and time consuming. We have long monthly meetings on Zoom to work with churches and pastors in transition and otherwise needy and preparation before the meetings. Plus, we serve as liaisons to congregations and mentors to new pastors. We approve contracts and write policies. We work with PNC’s, help with mission studies and give advice on and approve what they now call MDP’s for the CLC. We interview candidates—pastors and CRE’s—for full and part time, temporary or installed ministry and pulpit supply. We moderate Sessions and Congregational meetings for churches without pastors. There’s more. I had no idea everything the Committee on Ministry does. I’m still learning.

And, to make our work more difficult, we have open positions on the committee. Volunteers are doing more than their fair share; they are getting tired. I’m sure you understand.

 I thought of this passage in Scripture this week, when I thought of small, struggling churches without pastors and the overwhelmed leaders of our presbytery. In Matthew 9:35-38, we read, ‘Then Jesus went about all the cities and villages, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness. When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. Then he said to his disciples, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore, ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.”’

Like us, our presbytery, our neighboring churches and pastors want to live faithfully in these challenging times. They are trying to figure out what that means, in this day and age.

The harvest is still plentiful. That hasn’t changed. People all around us still need the Lord. But we need to trust in God’s faithfulness and not merely in our own strength and numbers. The most powerful thing we can do is pray. Pray for our church. Our presbytery. Our volunteers. Our pastor. Our staff. Our community.

Hannah knows this. The power of heartfelt prayer. She trusts in the Lord, through years of misery and despair and waiting for God’s answer. She never stops hoping and praying.

Her story in First Samuel is like other great women, the few but mighty whose names and narratives are included in the Bible. She has good company with others who were not able to bear children, for a long time, and yet that doesn’t stop their longing to be mothers and to be respected and active participants in their societies. Sarah, the wife of Abraham, is one example. And Rachel, the favorite wife of Jacob, is another.  Rachel’s older sister, Leah, was able to give Jacob children when she, for a long time, was not.

Every year, the family—Elkhanah, Hannah, Penninah, and the children—make the pilgrimage from their town to worship and make the sacrifice to the Lord of Hosts at Shiloh. It is a time of celebration, drinking, and feasting. They would eat the meat that was sacrificed. But Hannah would not eat. She could not eat. Peninnah would taunt and provoke her. Hebrew Midrash or commentary fills in the gaps of their story. Elkhanah was married to Hannah first for 10 years. When she didn’t have children, he took another, younger wife, Peninnah, who gave him sons and daughters.

“According to another midrashic tradition, Peninnah would rise early in the morning and ask Hannah: “Aren’t you getting up to wash your children’s faces before they go to school?” And six hours later she would ask: “Aren’t you going to greet your children when they come home from school?” (Pesikta Rabbati loc. cit.). According to this midrashic account, Peninnah would grieve Hannah by means of ordinary everyday activities, taking pains to remind her, at all hours of the day, of the difference between them.” [1]

I am impressed by Elkhanah’s attempts to console his despairing wife, assuring her that she is his favorite, though she is barren. He believes, like others in his community, that the Lord has closed her womb. It isn’t her fault, unless one believes that God is punishing her for some secret sin. Some do believe that. Her loving husband says every year when they go to worship and make the sacrifice, “Hannah, why do you weep? Why do you not eat? Why is your heart sad? Am I not more to you than ten sons?”

While she is praying in the temple, Hannah makes a promise to the Lord. If God gives her a son, she will raise him to be holy, set apart as God’s own. He will be what is called a Nazirite. He will never drink or cut his hair. He will be raised by the priest in the temple to serve God and the people all the days of his life. She will keep her promise. And Samuel will anoint Israel’s first kings—Saul and then David.

Eli the priest, who misunderstands and misjudges Hannah, accusing her of drunkenness, will become Samuel’s mentor and teacher. He utters formulaic words that he probably says to everyone, words he doesn’t really mean, when he says to Hannah as she turns to leave, “Go in peace; the God of Israel grant the petition you have made to him.” 

Hannah chooses to believe.

Dear friends, today our congregation will elect new servant leaders—elders, trustees, and deacons. We still have some open positions. We have room for you, if God is calling you to serve in an official role. But we also have room and need for you to serve in our community in an unofficial, behind-the-scenes kind of way. Because some of our volunteers are doing more than they should, because they love the Lord and the church. But they’re getting tired. They need encouragement and a helping hand.

I hope, after today’s meeting, you will say thank you to those who said yes to serving and those who continue to serve, year after year. I hope you will say to them, “How can I help you?” I hope you will mean what you say.

You see, the harvest is plentiful, and the laborers are few. That hasn’t changed. May the Lord of the Harvest send out more laborers into the Harvest. May you who haven’t heard Christ’s voice before this moment hear his loving invitation to labor today.

We are all trying to figure out what it means to live faithfully, in this day and age, my friends. Our merciful and patient God always gives us another chance to get it right. We have new mercies every morning. Great is thy faithfulness!

If we follow Hannah’s example, and I hope that we will, then we know that even in times of despair, of years of what seems like unanswered prayer and misery, the most important thing we can do as a people of God is to trust in the Lord and offer our heart-felt prayers. God is listening.

And when the Lord who is faithful grants us the desires of our heart, like the Lord did for Hannah after many years of waiting and praying, may we be faithful to keep our promises to serve with all that we have, all that we are, and all that we will become.

May God bless you for your kindness!

Will you pray with me? Let us pray.

Holy One, Lord of the Harvest, thank you for your love, compassion, and grace. Teach us what it means to live faithfully. Forgive us when we are reluctant to serve because it’s hard work, time consuming, and not always immediately satisfying or gratifying. Give us your vision of the Harvest of souls and the growth of your Kingdom here on earth, right here in our community. Stir us to long for which you long. Give us the desires of your heart. Help us to trust you as we serve, trusting that people need you, they need your Son’s salvation and a new way of living in this day and age. Stir us to gratitude and joy as we labor with one another, together, answering Christ’s call, praying without ceasing. We give ourselves to you now. All that we have. All that we are. And all that we will become, with your Spirit’s help. Amen.

     [1] Tamar Kadari, Penninah:Midrash and Aggadah at https://jwa.org/encyclopedia/article/peninnah-midrash-and-aggadah

The God Who Weeps and Wipes Away Our Tears

Mediation on John 11:32–44 and Revelation 21:1-6a

First Presbyterian Church of Smithtown, NY

Pastor Karen Crawford

All Saints’ Sunday

November 3, 2024

Art by Stushie, used with permission

On Halloween, we gave out candy to Trick-or-Treaters. Maybe we had about a dozen children come in costumes. Did anyone have more Trick-or-Treaters come to your door?

I always enjoy it when the children come. Since I have been in ministry, we have lived in places where no one knocks or rings our bell on October 31st—or maybe there’s one or two children and that’s it, so a dozen is definitely an improvement.

Halloween reminds me of my dad. He often helped me with homemade costumes. We used cardboard, magic markers, and tinfoil for my tooth fairy costume one year. No one could guess what I was. Another year, he had leaf raking on his mind, and he made me into a superhero, with a green lawn trash bag and cardboard initials on my shirt, dry leaves pasted on my body. Nobody guessed what I was that year, either. Mom always stayed home and gave out candy while my dad escorted my older brother and sister and me Trick-or-Treating. The quiet man who never dressed up for Halloween waited with a flashlight at the dark, narrow road while we tramped up the front walks of our neighbors’ houses. As we walked along the edge of Route 124 in our bulky costumes, cars sped by us. But I always felt safe with my dad and his flashlight. We always made it home.

Today, we remember all our loved ones—all the saints—from every time and place—who have made it safely home to be with God. We remember them, cherish our memories, talk about them, say their names, light candles of remembrance, and, for our church family, we ring bells and have a moment of silence. In the silence, we sit with our shared grief, and give thanks for the blessing of their lives and how knowing them has helped us to become who we are today.

These passages in Revelation 21 and John 11 always touch my heart because we have the

image of the God who weeps with us when we are grieving and will wipe every tear from our eyes, when, “Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away.”

The village scene with Mary and Martha in John 11 with the death of Lazarus, reveals the work of the community of faith in Bethany, caring for their neighbors. We are never alone in our grief! The community shows up for Mary and Martha, and they, too, are weeping for Lazarus and sharing the burden of loss.

Martha has already told Jesus at the edge of town, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” Now Mary says it, kneeling at his feet, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” This is the same Mary who was kneeling at his feet when Jesus and his disciples came to dinner at Mary and Martha’s house. When Martha criticizes Mary for not helping her, Jesus praises her for choosing the better part when she chooses to stay with Jesus, hanging on his every word. But now Mary is brokenhearted. Jesus wasn’t there when she needed him. He doesn’t say anything to defend his delay in responding to their cry for help. He sees her weeping and the community weeping, and he is “greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved.”  In verse 34, he asks, “Where have you laid him?” This foreshadows the scene in John 20, when Mary Magdalene is weeping and looking for him, arriving at the tomb before the morning light has broken. She mistakes the risen Christ for the gardener, saying, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.”

Now, in John 11, the Jewish community invites Jesus to where Lazarus has been laid. “Lord, come and see.” Then, in verse 3, “And Jesus begins to weep.”

This next part is so believable about the faith community. I can imagine—can you?—how some of them are stirred by his tears, seeing them as proof that Jesus truly loved Lazarus! Others are angry, disappointed that he didn’t come when Mary and Martha summoned him. Maybe they have begun to doubt his healing power and that he was sent from God. “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?” they grumble.

Jesus doesn’t immediately heal Lazarus. He pauses to pray out loud—not because God doesn’t hear his or our silent prayers, for that matter, but for the benefit of the grieving community and to all of us reading or hearing John’s gospel, the many generations whom John urges to believe.

It always intrigues me that Christ compels the faith community to do the final work of healing and restoration after Lazarus is raised from death to life. He could have done all the work by himself. But he wants us to be his Body for the world. “Unbind him,” Jesus says, “and let him go.”

On Friday night, I missed my dad and mourned my good friend, Erma, whose Celebration of Life was held at Ebenezer Presbyterian Church in Renville, MN, on Halloween. I watched a recording of the livestream of the service on Facebook yesterday.

My 104-year-old friend would have been pleased with the music—good old-fashioned hymns: Softly and Tenderly, Amazing Grace, Great Is Thy Faithfulness, How Great Thou Art, and It Is Well with My Soul. The pastor chose Scriptures from those Erma had written down or highlighted in her well-worn Bible. She read from Isaiah 41:10, “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” And from an earlier part of John 11, beginning at verse 25, when Jesus says to Martha, “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live,and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.”   

As the organ plays, I am drawn to the photo of Erma resting on a wooden table draped with one of the blankets she crocheted from balls and bits of yarn family and friends would give her. Since 2007, Erma crocheted 550 prayer shawls and blankets to give away. More of them were on display in the Narthex on the day of the service.

Her daughter, Jan, shared her mother’s story with the gathered flock, beginning with how she was born in a snowstorm on Jan. 25, 1920, in an Iowa farmhouse. The doctor coming by horsedrawn carriage couldn’t make it there in time, so Erma’s father delivered her. She attended country school and graduated from high school in 1937. She went on to Iowa State Teacher’s College and completed the summer training program. She taught at a one room schoolhouse for 3 years before she married the Rev. Chester “Chet” Ahrens on June 5, 1941, at First Presbyterian Church in LeRoy, MN.

She served her family and partnered in ministry with her husband in Michigan, Wisconsin, Illinois, and Minnesota. She also served as a Sunday school and summer Bible school teacher; was an active member of the Ladies Aid; and attended Women’s Circles and Bible studies for many years. Chet died in 1972, and Erma, a widow of 52, moved to Osage, Iowa, and found work as a nursing assistant at a hospital for 13 years. Her son, Ronald, died of a heart problem as a young adult.

She returned to Renville in 2001 to be closer to her family. I met her and we quickly became friends in 2011, when I arrived to serve the church there. We stayed in touch all these years. We called each other and sent cards, and Facebook helped keep us connected more regularly. She had received an IPAD for her 95th birthday and learned how to use it. She read my posts, clicked like on my sermons, and sent me newsy emails. One time, she surprised and called me on Facetime. She later confessed that it surprised her, too.

At the end of her Celebration of Life, the camera turned, and I recognized some of the faithful in the pews, now left behind to grieve with the family. Many of my former members at Ebenezer have gone home to be with God since I left. But the church continues to be strong because of the Spirit that dwells with them and their love for one another.

Remembering the Spirit with us and our love for one another after Erma’s service ended, I called the husband of Sue Nunziata, a beloved member whose life we celebrated in January. I had been thinking of him for a while and had sent him a few cards, but I wanted to hear his voice and know he is OK. I told him that we hadn’t forgotten Sue. And that we would be remembering her life today during our worship for All Saints by saying her name, lighting a candle, and ringing a bell. I apologized for letting so much time pass before calling. I assured him that we wouldn’t forget him, either. That I will be visiting soon. And that he is loved.

Dear friends, we are called to share the burden of grief for our church family, much like the village of Bethany did for Mary and Martha. Christ wants us to be His Body for the world, as when the community welcomes the risen Lazarus back into the fold, after Jesus says, “Unbind him and let him go!” When we grieve together and comfort one another, we show the love of our God who weeps with us, the God who, one day, will wipe all our tears away.

Let us pray.

Loving and merciful God, thank you for our families, friends, and our church family, who help to carry our burdens when we are grieving and aren’t sure how we can carry on. Thank you for the love that is shared here and beyond our church walls as our flock seeks to be your Son’s heart, hands, and feet. Thank you for all the saints in every time and place, who have made it safely home to be with you and continue to cheer us on, the Great Cloud of Witnesses, so that we keep on running the race of faith. Thank you, most of all, for being the God who weeps with us when we are grieving, the God who will one day, when we are face to face, wipe all our tears away. Amen.

Redemption in Christ Jesus!

Meditation on Romans 3:19–28

First Presbyterian Church of Smithtown

Pastor Karen Crawford

Reformation Sunday

Oct. 27, 2024

Art by Stushie, used with permission

A couple of days ago, I checked my Facebook feed, and I saw a memorable 26-second video.

A UPS driver is making a left turn at a busy intersection. Three wild turkeys step into the white lines of the crosswalk, walking toward his vehicle, which is blocking their way. The turkeys reach the truck in the middle of the crosswalk, they look up at the driver, andhe looks down at them.

 “How did you end up here, guys?” he asks.

Cars are passing by as if three turkeys crossing the road is an everyday occurrence.

Then, I see the UPS driver’s hand. He is motioning for the turkeys to stop and wait with him for a space to open.  I unmute the volume at this point and, sure enough, the turkeys are making gobbling sounds, looking up at the UPS driver, as if they are waiting for instructions. A space finally opens. The UPS driver begins to accelerate and make his wide turn.

“Let’s go. Let’s go. Let’s go,” he says, motioning to the three birds as he picks up speed.

And they follow him! They run beside his truck. They trust him and follow him, amidst the chaos and confusion of the traffic. They make it safely to the other side!

https://www.facebook.com/share/p/SH4pwzpbFRZQBE8N/

This image of the man guiding and guarding the wild birds who got caught in a dangerous intersection, keeping them safe as he leads them to cross with him on the other side, speaks to me today, as we welcome nine confirmands as full, active members of our church.

No, I am not qualified to drive a big box truck. And the students who joined by profession of faith are wonderful young men and women—with no resemblance to wild turkeys.

But I am breathing a great sigh of relief that these nine students have chosen Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior. They made a decision to try to follow him in their lives. They have stepped from the middle of the road of uncertainty and confusion, where many of them began this challenging program more than a year ago.

They were urged to ask questions and listen as others from the community, church, and wider denomination shared stories of faith, witness, and service. We invited speakers, such as an icon artist from the Monastery in St. James and a rabbi and his wife from the Stony Brook temple before we attended Shabbat worship with them last fall.

We studied Scripture, considered the stories of God’s people and what that might mean for today. We learned about God’s love, mercy, and grace. They told me about sin. What an interesting conversation that was the day they shared about sin at school. We prayed and learned about prayer.  We learned about the Presbyterian Constitution—the Book of Order and the Confessions. We learned about the sacraments and celebrated Communion and talked about how Jesus welcomes all to come to His Table. Everyone decided that our church has the best Communion bread!

We learned about mission and the many ways our congregation serves our neighbors and one another. We engaged in hands-on mission, filling bags of candy for children at the homeless shelter, serving at the Smithtown Food Pantry, and making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for needy children in Brentwood. We hosted a live animal program from Sweetbriar Nature Center for Creation Care Sunday, and sold succulents the students had planted in church anniversary mugs to raise money for the center.

We hosted two animal blessing services that reached out to our community. Several students helped plant the daffodil memorial garden. The students also served as ushers and helpers in Sunday School.

An important part of the program happened outside the class. Each student had a mentor, who received a handbook with activities for enrichment, relationship building, and discussion. Students also had journal assignments to complete at home.

The program culminated with statements of faith. We held a writing workshop and students received help from their mentors, a writing coach, and me. It was the most difficult part of the program. The students were being asked, for the first time in their lives, to consider their personal beliefs, write them down, and share them with the Session, their families and mentors, and me.

The question of faith was a big question for the reformers of the 15th and 16th centuries. Before that, the people were forced to rely on the Church to tell them what to believe and what to do to be saved. The Church was powerful, political, wealthy, and corrupt. They required people living in poverty to buy indulgences so that they and their loved ones would go to heaven. Ordinary people were unable to read the Bible for themselves and find out God’s will for their lives as it was against the law to translate Scripture from the church Latin.

Reformers made the Word of God accessible to people in their own language. And when people began to hear the Bible in their native tongue and read the Bible for themselves, they realized how the Church had been misleading and abusing them. It changed what many had been led to believe.

One of the Scriptures that spoke to the Reformers of the 15th and 16th centuries was this passage in Paul’s letter to the Romans, when he tells us that all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God! This is assurance that no one can make themselves right with God by anything we do. Our good works won’t save us. We have redemption in Christ alone! We are justified—made righteous—by grace, which is a gift from God.

Two verses key to understanding this passage are verses 21 and 22. Up until recently, scholars translated the Greek, “But now, apart from the law, the righteousness of God has been disclosed and is attested by the Law and the Prophets, the righteousness of God through faith in Jesus Christ, for all who believe.” In other words, we are saved by OUR faith.  Our faith in Jesus is what makes us righteous. That’s what we have been taught.

But we are the Reformed Church, continually reforming and seeking to be transformed. Recent scholarship has discovered that this is an error in translation, which totally changes the meaning. And it’s only one little word that makes the difference. In Greek, the word for word translation is “faith Jesus Christ”—no prepositions at all. With a new understanding of the biblical Greek grammar, most scholars no longer believe that Paul is saying by faith IN Jesus Christ, we are saved. Instead, they believe it is through the faith OF Jesus Christ that we are saved. We have shifted from being saved by our own faith, which can be seen as a good work, to being saved by the faith of Jesus Christ.

Our redemption, dear friends, comes through trusting in the work of Jesus, the only righteous one, who was perfectly obedient to God when he gave himself for the sins of the world.

As the students were sharing their faith statements with Session and the families on Tuesday night, I couldn’t help but think what a hard thing they were doing. It would have been a hard thing for any adult to do what the students are required to do, to consider, write down and say what we believe.

And it should be a challenge to all of us, if we are seeking to know and grow and walk with Christ, more and more. We should be asking ourselves, every now and then, “What do I believe?”

And the question that naturally follows should be, “If this is what I say I believe, how, then, shall I live to be more faithful?”

I am so grateful to our mentors and to Dulcie McLeod, our writing coach, for all the time they spent with the students. Thank you, mentors, for your gentleness, patience, kindness, and sensitivity. But your work isn’t done. Please continue to reach out to your students. Be a soul friend.

I will miss our students, gathering for classes, activities, and events. I want you to know, dear ones, that I am still here for you, and I will be for years to come. I am your pastor and your soul friend. And though you are finished the program, there is one more assignment. In your journals, on page 122 and 123, you are asked to reflect on confirmation and becoming an active member of your church.

The first part of the assignment is, “Decide three things to commit to doing.” So what are those three things you will commit to doing in the church? Where will your ministry begin here? What will you do with all that you learned?

And the second half of the assignment is to plan three times to meet with your mentor—in one month, 6 months, and a year. Therefore, it isn’t just the responsibility of the mentors to reach out to you and show that they care. It is also your responsibility to reach out to them and show that you care.

Today, we are not celebrating the end of a program, but a new beginning for the students’ journey of faith, now that they are welcomed and accepted as full, active members, with all the benefits and responsibilities of membership as adult members.

The last part of this message is for everyone. Listen.

Remember the UPS driver who helped the turkeys cross the road? You know, “Let’s go. Let’s go. Let’s go.” What amazes me is not just that the turkeys follow the UPS truck, but that they change the direction they are going to follow him, running with him as he makes the turn. Why do they trust him? Why do they listen to him, when there’s so much other noise and traffic all around them? But they keep going—and they make it safely to the other side.

We live in a hectic, high pressure, dangerous world. We have so many choices, so many paths that we CAN take. God lets us choose. But there is one right path—and that’s through believing in the faith OF Jesus Christ, who offers help and strength for every day. He is the one who took your sins away. No one else has the power to do that.

I ask you now, “Is he your Lord and Savior? If so, how, then, should you live?”

Let us pray.

Holy One, thank you for our redemption in Christ alone, who, by his faith and work on the cross, has taken away our sins. Thank you for your Word and Spirit, which guide and strengthen us each day, and for the courage of the reformers of the Church, long ago. Strengthen us to be reformers today, to be open to the Spirit’s transformation and seeking to live out what we believe more faithfully. Thank you for the nine students who have professed belief in Jesus Christ, their Lord and Savior. Help us to show our love to them, nurture their faith, and encourage their involvement in their church in the months and years to come. In Christ we pray. Amen.

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