Sharing God's Love and Grace

Meditation on Psalm 139

In Memory of Ethel Kraft

December 11, 1931 – October 16, 2024

Ethelmay Swindlehurst Kraft grew up in Jermyn, PA. The former coal mining town of a few thousand people is located on the Lackawanna River, 12 miles northeast of Scranton.

She was the only child of Ken, a coal miner, and Alice, a gifted seamstress, who worked at a factory.  Alice wanted more children, but her health prevented it. Ethelmay was close to her mom and helped care for her as she recovered from her many surgeries and times of illness. This may have stirred Ethel’s unfulfilled desire to be a nurse. Her hardworking parents couldn’t afford a home of their own when they were first married, so they lived with Alice’s parents. Eventually, they were able to move into a rented home.

Ethelmay despised her name and shortened it to just plain “Ethel” for people outside her immediate family. She tried to leave it behind her, with the small town she left as a young woman. I never knew that was her real first name—Ethelmay, all one word—until this week when I saw her engagement announcement from the Scranton Tribune from November 1952. But just plain “Ethel” had nothing plain about her, despite her humble beginnings. She wore red lipstick, and looked great in it, and always felt better when she was wearing it. Her hair was curled and perfectly styled. She chose her clothing with care. Her outfits always matched, including the jewelry, and her shoes coordinated with her pocketbooks. She was model thin as a young bride, just a wisp of a thing, a tiny waist for her wedding dress, with a waterfall skirt. It was handmade by her mother, along with all the other bridal attendant’s dresses described in detail in the newspaper story. Her favorite colors were pink and purple. She loved flowers.

Ethel Swindlehurst married Karl Kraft at her church, First Methodist of Jermyn, on June 20, 1953. She was 21, and he was 23 but looked much younger.

Her eyes twinkled when she told me how she met Karl. Her girlfriend, Betty Taylor, attended a Lutheran church in neighboring Archbald, PA, and sang in the choir there with Karl. One day, she showed him a picture of Ethel. He wanted to meet her. She was 16. He was 18.

They went on a double date with Betty and her beau, meeting at Jimmy Mullaly’s ice cream shop for sundaes—chocolate ice cream with hot fudge sauce.

Ethel’s mother had a long talk with her daughter after the double date, warning her against dating older men. “Ethelmay,” her mother said, “you are only in high school. You should go out with other young men. You should go to your dances.”

To make matters more complicated, when Ethel and Karl met, he was preparing to leave town to serve in the U.S. Air Force.  “I just met him,” Ethel said, “and now he was going.”

She followed her mother’s advice. She went to all her dances, enjoyed dressing up and spending time with her friends. But Karl wrote Ethel letters, and she wrote back. He visited her twice a year, when he was home on furlough.

When she graduated from high school, she found a job working as a buyer for children’s wear at Mr. Edelstein’s Globe Fashion Shop in Carbondale. And she waited for Karl. He served his country for four years, learning then teaching radar, and rising to the rank of Technical Sergeant. On his way home after being discharged from the Air Force, he interviewed with GE and IBM and bought Ethel a diamond ring.

They honeymooned in Atlantic City and moved to Rochester, New York. The next 6 years, the small-town girl and guy would have to pick up and move 7 times as Karl’s career took off with IBM.

Ethel fell comfortably into her role as housewife and mother, having two children—Kenny and Debbie—when they were living in Pennsylvania. She made friends with the women who stayed home during the day with their children. She made sure dinner was on the table every night at 6:30. When they moved to Commack, they quickly made friends with their neighbors and enjoyed getting together with other couples in each other’s homes.

When I asked Debbie if she ever played Bridge, like so many women of her generation, Debbie said no. She never played cards or Bingo, perhaps a holdover from her childhood upbringing in a Methodist family. But Karl and Ethel did dance at weddings and then on cruises in their later years.

The young couple joined the First Presbyterian Church in Smithtown not long after they moved here, on June 4, 1959. Their faith and church family would forever be important in their lives. Karl served on the building committee for the new Christian Education wing, dedicated in 1963, and would become a Trustee. Ethel joined a Women’s Association group and would later host a circle in her home. She crocheted with friends and for our prayer shawl ministry. Ethel and Karl’s children would be raised in Sunday School and church, just as they were active in church as children and youth.

Ethel never gave up her longing to be a nurse, but then found fulfillment in volunteering at what is now St. Catherine of Sienna Hospital. She became the Director of the Candy Stripers. She was requested to serve in the Emergency Room because she was “so calm.” She was shocked when they wanted her there, knowing that she wasn’t naturally a calm person, but her special gifts for compassionate ministry strengthened her to be the peaceful presence of Christ in times of crises, when others were in need. She had the gift of encouragement, enjoyed talking with people, in person and on the phone. She often sent thinking of you, get well, and sympathy cards.

I treasured my visits with Ethel and Karl, celebrating Communion and sharing stories. I brought news from the church, as she was hungry to hear what was happening. She told me about the small town in Pennsylvania where she was from and about meeting and marrying Karl and his passion for gardening, before his health declined. She was lonely, she said, especially during the height of the pandemic, when they seldom left their home, and no one came to visit. She always had a box of chocolates ready to share with guests. She talked with me about her concerns for her grown children—that never ends, no matter how old our children become. I told her that I worried about my children, as well. It bothered her that she was growing increasingly unsteady, even with a walker. She was grateful for the wonderful aides who were like family and were there every day to care for them, so Karl and Ethel could stay together in their own home for as long as possible.

I always asked if I could pray for her near the end of my visit or call. She always said yes. Those were intimate moments, sharing with the Lord what she had shared with me and asking for God’s help, comfort, healing, guidance, and rest—and that Ethel would feel the Lord’s loving arms around her and not feel lonely or afraid anymore. We experienced peace in those moments, a peace that goes beyond understanding. I assured her of the God who knows her completely, as we read about in Psalm 139—a God who, “formed my inward parts; knit me together in my mother’s womb.” This is a God who knows everywhere we are ever going to be, and will be present with us, wherever we might go. This is a God who knows when we are sitting or lying down or rising up; a God who discerns our thoughts, before they become prayers; and knows what we will say before the words are on our tongues.

As the months passed, Ethel began to show more signs of confusion and unsteadiness. She often had bad dreams that she thought were real. I visited her several times in a memory care setting in Lake Grove. She recognized me, though her vision was going; she greeted me with a smile and was anxious for a prayer and our usual chitchat, though she was miserable with the living situation at the time. She asked me what was going on with me, and I don’t know why I chose to share this bit of news, but I told her that I was back in school working on my doctorate. And the woman who didn’t always know where she was or recognize her family, encouraged me that this was the right thing to do for my career. “A doctorate!” she exclaimed. “That’s job security for you.”

And there were other moments, Holy Spirit moments, when unusual clarity, peace, and restored vision would come over her—such as the time when Jason Kraft came to visit with his children. She recognized them and had a conversation with them, looking directly into their faces, commenting on how much they had grown. Watching this miracle unfold, Debbie was overwhelmed by emotion.

The God who knows us, a God from whom we cannot keep secrets, has a good plan for our lives. The Lord may seem far away, at times, and slow to respond to our prayers and desires. But then, we see these glimpses of the world to come, small miracles that are true miracles, nonetheless, signs of God’s grace and power, right here with us. Brothers and sisters, what we see in this world is not all there is!

Psalm 139 particularly speaks to me as I consider my friend Ethel and her struggles. No, the Lord didn’t take them all away. But her family and her kind aides served her lovingly and patiently; they did so much to try to help her in her times of weakness, pain, confusion, fear, and anxiety. Debbie lost sleep worrying about her mom and agonized over weighty decisions that had to be made about her living situations and healthcare. I believe the Holy Spirit was working through these helping hands and caring hearts and minds here in this world, as Ethel grew closer to passing into the loving embrace of her Savior.

The day Ethel went home to be with the Lord, I was preparing to visit her and bring flowers from the church. I was getting my pastoral care bag ready so that I could anoint her with oil and say a prayer for healing and wholeness. Then Debbie texted me. Her mother had passed. Her passing was peaceful, she would tell me later. Debbie was holding her mother’s hand.

Dear friends, God’s Word assures us that we can share all the dark feelings and thoughts with our loving Lord—our sadness, grief, greatest disappointments and dashed hopes. Our God of mercy never runs out of mercy and never grows weary of forgiving and comforting us in our distress. Our God can turn our darkness, the darkness we all feel at times, into light, our restlessness to shalom, our mourning to joy. The psalmist says: “If I say, ‘Surely the darkness shall cover me, and night wraps itself around me,’ even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is as bright as the day, for darkness is as light to you.”

He ends the psalm with these words of vulnerability and trust, words that I hope you will feel confident in praying, ^“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.”

Our God who is present with us, who has searched us and knows us, will lead us to our forever home.

Amen.

Meditation on Ruth 1:22-2:13

Pastor Karen Crawford

First Presbyterian Church of Smithtown, NY

Oct. 20, 2024

We planted a daffodil memorial garden in the churchyard yesterday in front of a low stone wall. Betty Deerfield and Nancy Swanson measured precisely and made the holes. Brianna and Nicole Swanson placed 100 bulbs into two freshly dug flower beds. We worked together to cover the bulbs with bone meal, soil, peat, compost, and mulch. Brianna and Nicole took care of watering with a watering can before enjoying Betty’s homemade oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.

Digging and preparing the flower beds on Thursday was the most difficult part of the project, perhaps. The ground was hard, unforgiving, and the wind was chilly, but the sun was shining, and Betty and Tom Sartain had the right tools–spades, wheelbarrow, tarps, and a rototiller. Betty brought zucchini bread and hot chocolate for fortification. Tom entertained us with stories. I arrived late, just in time to survey their work, make jokes about how the beds looked like cemetery plots, thank the gardeners, and enjoy refreshments.

Throughout the planning, digging, planting, fertilizing, and mulching, we laughed and talked and I got to know two of my Confirmation students and their gracious mom just a little bit better. Throughout our labor and conversation, we held onto the vision of what the garden might look like, not how it is at this moment in autumn—with only plain brown bulbs covered with soil and mulch—but how we imagine the garden will look like in March, April, and May next year, with bright yellow flowers opening on green stems and leaves.

Nancy said, “I can’t wait for spring!”

We pray that the garden will bring us closer as a church family, as we have shared the names of our loved ones with our dedications. And we pray that the garden will, every spring, stir us to enjoy the beauty of the long-lasting, early blooming flowers and remember the precious gift of our loved ones’ lives. May we also remember to tell their stories and love one another today.

The story of Ruth is, indeed, a love story. Some themes of this book include life and death; the resilience of families in grief and loss; persevering through famine and hunger; migration to foreign lands and going home; marrying outside the faith; and childlessness. In the four beautiful chapters is the story of real hardships by those living in a subsistence culture and their reliance on their faith in YHWH’s generosity, loyalty, and lovingkindness or hesed in Hebrew.

Hesed is the essential quality of covenant relationship. Everyone who enters into covenant with YHWH is then expected to demonstrate that same quality of hesed, lovingkindness, in all their relationships. “The prophet Micah (in 6:8) offers the memorable instruction, ‘And what does YHWH require of you—but to do justice, love hesed, and walk humbly with your God?’” [1] 

The interesting twist in Ruth is that she is an outsider, a foreigner. She hasn’t been born into covenant with God, and yet she is welcomed into the fold and is held up as the example of loyalty and faithfulness. At the beginning of the book, an Israelite man named Elimelekh and his wife, Naomi, and two sons leave Bethlehem because of famine. They move to Moab. Elimelekh dies and the sons take Moabite brides, Ruth and Orpah. Then the sons die, leaving three childless widows; Naomi decides that it is time to return to her homeland. She has heard that YHWH has visited God’s people and given them bread in Bethlehem, a word that means “House of Bread.” Long years of famine have ended. And she wants to die with her own people.

 Intermarriage with foreigners was expressly forbidden in the Torah (Exodus 34:16 and Deut. 7:3). Moses specifically forbids Moabites and Ammonites from coming into the congregation of YHWH, “even to the 10^th generation… because they did not meet you with food and water on your way out of Egypt….”

But only love and acceptance may be detected in Naomi’s relationships with her daughters-in-law. She tells them, when they try to come with her to Bethlehem, “Go, turn back, each woman to the house of her mother.” She blesses them. “May YHWH do good faith (hesed) with you, just as you have done with the dead and with me. May YHWH grant it to you: Find rest, each woman in the house of her husband.” She kisses them. They lift up their voices and weep.

Orpah obeys Naomi and goes home to her mother, her people, and the faith of her birth, tearfully kissing her mother-in-law goodbye. Ruth is determined to stay with Naomi and embraces her new faith, saying, “Don’t press me to leave you, to turn back from following after you. For where you go, I will go. And where you stay the night, I will stay. Your people (is) my people, and your God, my God. Where you die, I will die, and there I will be buried. So may YHWH do to me, and may he add more to that—it is only death that will come between me and you.”

Ruth and Naomi return to Bethlehem at the beginning of the barley harvest.

We see hesed—God’s lovingkindness reflected in the lovingkindness of human beings—numerous times in this passage. Ruth and Naomi are hungry, so Ruth goes to work in the field of one of Naomi’s husband’s relatives. His name is Boaz. He is a man of faith and considerable means.

Ruth is given permission by the field supervisor to glean behind the hired harvesters and keep what she has gleaned, though she is an outsider. She is protected by an Israelite practice, a law, actually, that required Israelites to deliberately leave some grain in the field. “The unharvested grain was to be gleaned by the most vulnerable members of society: widows, orphans, and sojourners….” [2] People like Naomi and Ruth.

The greeting Boaz exchanges with his workers is a sign of hesed, God’s lovingkindness, and their faith. Boaz says to the harvesters, “YHWH—the Lord—be with you!” And they say, “May YHWH—the Lord—bless you!” These may be conventional greetings of the time, but they are included in the story to emphasize the good relationships Boaz has with his workers and that his relationships are governed by an “awareness of God as the Source of blessing and the One to whom we must answer for our treatment of others.” [3]

Boaz notices Ruth and asks, “To whom does this young woman belong?” That’s when we hear Ruth’s story told through the perspective of the supervisor of the harvesters. He doesn’t say anything bad about this foreigner. She is a Moabite, he says, who came with Naomi. She asked for permission to gather behind the harvesters. She is a hard worker—takes few breaks, he says.

Boaz reveals hesed when he warns Ruth, for her protection, not to “go gleaning in another field” but to stick close to the women working in his field. He has ordered the men not to touch her. He tells her that when she is thirsty, to go and drink from the jars of water the workmen draw.

Ruth notices his kindness, is moved by his graciousness, and falls on her face, bowing to the ground in gratitude and humility. She asks why he is being so kind, when she is nothing but a foreigner.

He knows her story, he says. He has heard what she has done for her mother-in-law after the death of her husband, and how she left her family and homeland behind to come and live with Naomi’s people, whom she didn’t know.

“May the Lord reward you for your deeds, and may you have a full reward from the Lord, the God of Israel, under whose wings you have come for refuge!” Boaz says.

We see God’s hesed when he invites her to eat with them and serves her bread, sour wine, and roasted grain. She eats until she is satisfied and has some left over and goes back to gleaning. Boaz tells the workmen to leave even more grain behind for her to take home.

She gleans until evening, then threshes, and takes home 30 to 50 pounds of barley, a staggering amount for a worker to take in her time, when male workers usually received one or two pounds a day! [4]

This sets the stage for the courtship between Ruth and Boaz in the next chapter, a romantic scene on the threshing floor; the next day, Boaz negotiates for Ruth’s hand with a closer relative of Elimelekh’s kin at the city’s gate; and finally the marriage of Ruth and Boaz, and Ruth giving birth to a son. Ruth will be the great grandmother of David, the second ruler of the united kingdom of Israel and Judah. She is included in the genealogy of Jesus in the gospels of Matthew and Luke.

After I finished planting the daffodil memorial garden with Betty, Nancy, Brianna, and Nicole, I stepped into our parish hall, where all kinds of hesed—divine and human lovingkindness—was going on. The Organization of Open Mic Performing Artists (OOMPA) was hosting a coat drive there. Numerous musicians played instruments and sang for the gathering of church and community folks, a pile of donated coats heaped in front of the stage. At the end of the four-hour event, Joanna Huang and Karen Dow played violin and viola–“Be Now Our Vision” and “How Great Thou Art” with Pablo Lavandera on piano; the choir sang three hymns; Pablo played three songs from his native Argentina; and the entire room was invited to sing a parting, “Stand By Me” on the stage.

It was a hesed kind of day, with our church connecting in loving ways with the earth by planting a garden; and sharing food, music, and friendship with a gathering of church and community folks, all with the same mind to help our needy neighbors keep warm in winter.

Next spring, around the end of March or early April, we will all be looking for 100 yellow daffodils blooming in our memorial garden, planted in front of the low stone wall. May the garden continue to bring us closer as a church family. And may the yellow flowers in springtime stir us to remember the precious gift of our loved ones’ lives, tell their stories, and love one another today.

Let us pray.

Holy One, thank you for your hesed, your loyalty, generosity, and lovingkindness. Thank you for the faithful example of Ruth, the outsider in your Son’s family tree. Thank you for the hesed of the faith community, for those who gave coats to warm our neighbors, those who shared musical gifts, and for the gardeners who planted flowers to bring us closer and help us remember our loved ones and tell their stories. Give us a vision of hesed for our community and country and give us wisdom and courage to make it happen. Amen.

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     [1] Ellen F. Davis and Margaret Adams Parker, Who Are You, My Daughter? Reading Ruth Through Image and Text, (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press), 17.

    [2] Ellen Davis, 43.

    [3] Ellen Davis, 43.

   [4] Ellen Davis, 59.

Meditation on Psalm 8

World Communion Sunday

First Presbyterian Church of Smithtown, NY

Pastor Karen Crawford

Oct. 6, 2024

“When Apollo 11’s Eagle lunar module landed on the moon on July 20, 1969, astronauts Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin had to do something hard: Wait. They were scheduled to open the door of the lunar lander and step onto the unknown surface of a completely different world.” I am reading from a story by Erin Blakemore (July 17, 2024) at history.com. “But for now, their mission ordered them to take a pause before the big event. And so Aldrin spent his time doing something unexpected, something no man had ever attempted before. Alone and overwhelmed by anticipation, he took part in the first Christian sacrament ever” [1] celebrated on the moon—Communion.

Buzz was an elder at Webster Presbyterian Church in Webster, TX, and “before he headed into space in 1969,” he was given special permission from NASA and his pastor, the Rev. Dean Woodruff, to bring Communion bread and a small vial of wine from his home church so that he might celebrate what would be the longest distance for extended home Communion, ever!

Only a few people were permitted to know about the plan to celebrate Communion in space. Not even Buzz’s wife knew about it.

The astronaut was mindful of the atheists’ lawsuit against NASA after the Apollo 8 mission in 1968. This was the first time American astronauts orbited the moon, and commander Frank Borman, along with astronauts Jim Lovell and William Anders, were so moved by their view of Earth from space on Christmas Eve that they took turns reading the story of Creation from Genesis, something we will be doing this afternoon during our Blessing of the Animals at the manse.

“The case was rejected by the courts,” says Paul Schratz in Astronauts Had ‘Space’ for God at https://the tablet.org/astronauts-space-for-god/. “But it had its impact. NASA told the astronauts to tone it down when it came to wearing their faith on their spacesuit, and they discouraged Aldrin from reading from Scripture while he was on the moon’s surface.”

Buzz’s faith wasn’t unusual for his occupation at the time. Twenty-nine astronauts who visited the moon during the Apollo program were religious. According to NASA, 23 identified as Protestant and six were Catholic. Most of them served as leaders in their congregations. [2]

Too excited to sleep during what NASA had scheduled as a 4-hour rest period before beginning their exploration of the lunar surface, Buzz pulled out from his personal kit two small packages prepared at his request. “One contained a small amount of wine, and the other a small wafer. With them and a small chalice from the kit, I took Communion on the moon,” Buzz says in his memoir, Return to Earth. He read John 15:5, handwritten on a notecard. The passage was traditionally shared in the Communion service back home. “I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me, and I in them, will bear much fruit; for apart from me, you can do nothing.”

He had planned to read the passage back to earth, but at the last minute, NASA told him not to. Instead, he said, “I would like to invite each person listening in, wherever and whomever he may be to contemplate for a moment the events of the past few hours and to give thanks in his own individual way.”

Then, during the radio blackout, “he reached for the wine and bread he’d brought into space—the first foods ever poured or eaten on the moon.” He poured the wine into the chalice his church had given him, and “in the one-sixth gravity of the moon, the wine curled slowly and gracefully up the side of the cup.” [3]

Today, on World Communion Sunday, we remember and give thanks for our oneness in Christ with churches around the globe, followers in every place, many of whom are also celebrating Communion and marking this special day. Dr. Hugh Thompson Kerr, pastor of Shadyside Presbyterian Church in Pittsburgh, came up with the idea of World Wide Communion Sunday in 1930 while serving as moderator of the General Assembly. He wanted to promote unity and cooperation, not just in the Presbyterian Church, but among all Christian denominations. The tradition of celebrating World Wide Communion on the first Sunday in October started in 1933 with a joint Communion service at Shadyside, with neighboring congregations. It became denominational practice in 1936. It was promoted by the National Council of Churches in 1940, a year before the bombing of Pearl Harbor and the United States officially entering the Second World War.

“Dr. Kerr was concerned about totalitarianism,” said Tim Engleman, a church historian at Shadyside, “and the need for the church worldwide to take a stand against that.” [4]

Since the first celebration of World Wide Communion Sunday, we are reminded that when we partake of the bread of life and the cup of salvation, we make a radical statement of our loyalty to the Reign of Christ on earth, above any human powers or governments.

 On this day, especially, when we underscore the inclusive nature of the Lord’s Table, where ALL are welcome, we remember that Communion may be celebrated anywhere and everywhere we go, not only in this world and in the world to come, but on the very surface of the moon.

As Psalm 139 assures us, God is inescapable. Wherever we go, God is already there.

“Where can I go from your spirit?
    Or where can I flee from your presence?
⁸ If I ascend to heaven, you are there;
    if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there.
⁹ If I take the wings of the morning
    and settle at the farthest limits of the sea,
¹⁰ even there your hand shall lead me,
    and your right hand shall hold me fast.”

And today, as we close our observation of the Season of Creation begun on Sept. 1, let us remember with joy the passage astronaut Buzz Aldrin read for the American people on a TV broadcast just before returning to earth after the historic first moon landing. His journey had served to strengthen his faith and make the word of God more real to him. The second man to set foot on the moon quoted from memory a passage from Psalm 8 in the King James, in defiance of those who warned him against wearing his religion on his, well, spacesuit.

Buzz says at the end of a 1969 video of the broadcast, “Personally, reflecting on the events of the past several days, a verse from the Psalms comes to mind. ‘When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hath ordained: What is man that thou art mindful of him?” [5]

The verse that stands out to me in this Psalm, in which we can imagine the writer singing out God’s praise from the starting phrase, “O Lord, our Sovereign, how majestic is your name in all the earth!” is the second part of the verse that Buzz left out. He recited in verse 4, “what are human beings that you are mindful of them,” but not “mortals that you care for them?”

When we look out at the beauty and majesty of the universe—the sun, moon, and stars, we are stirred to ponder the nature of our Creator God, who formed us in love, for love, but also we consider the nature of human beings, created in God’s image. The psalmist asks, “What are we that God watches over us, is mindful of us?” And what are we—what makes us so special in all this magnificent universe—that God cares for little, seemingly insignificant us?”

The answer, I suspect, is that this is in God’s character to do so. For God IS love. But still, the depth of God’s love and all the rest of our unanswered questions will remain a mystery until one day, when we see ourselves and each other differently, through the eyes of eternity, when we are with our Savior at the great banquet in heaven. When all the people come from east and west and north and south to sit at table in the Kingdom of God, and we see him, finally, face to face.

Since 1969, Communion has continued to be celebrated quietly in space. “Astronauts Sid Gutierrez, Thomas Jones, and Kevin Chilton… celebrated a Communion service on the space shuttle in 1994, 125 miles above the Pacific Ocean. In 2013, International Space Station astronaut Mike Hopkins, a Catholic, arranged with his priest and diocese to carry… six consecrated hosts broken into four pieces, enough for him to receive weekly Communion for the 24 weeks that he was in space.”

And what about Buzz’s lunar Communion? How long did it remain a secret? It was never a secret from his home congregation in Webster, TX, which was also the home church for astronaut and Presbyterian elder John Glenn, the first American to orbit the earth in 1962.

One Sunday in July each year, including this past July 21, the church celebrates “Lunar Communion Sunday.” The livestream begins with a picture of a broken loaf of bread and the cup Buzz took with him on Apollo 11, superimposed over a beautiful view of the earth from the moon that the elder in their congregation saw with his own eyes in 1969.

The worship service begins with the pastor reading John 15:5, “Jesus proclaimed, ‘I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me, and I in them, will bear much fruit; for apart from me, you can do nothing.’”

Let us pray.

O Lord, our Sovereign, how majestic is your name in all the earth! Thank you for creating the sun, moon, and stars, and the wondrous planet that we call home. Thank you for creating us and for being mindful of us, caring for us deeply in ways we cannot fully grasp. We thank you for your Son, Jesus Christ, and his inclusive Table where ALL are welcome to commune with him and one another, and where we are offered a glimpse, a foretaste, of the world to come in the bread of life and cup of salvation. Strengthen us to be more faithful when we leave your welcome table in sharing your life-giving word, because apart from you, we can do nothing. Amen.

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      [1] Erin Blakemore, “Buzz Aldrin Took Holy Communion on the Moon. NASA Kept It Quiet,” July 17, 2024, at https://www.history.com/news/buzz-aldrin-communion-apollo-11-nasa.

     [2] Paul Schratz, “Astronauts Had ‘Space’ for God, The Tablet, July 24, 2019 at https://thetablet.org/astronauts-space-for-god/.

     [3] Erin Blakemore, July 17, 2024.

     [4] https://www.syntrinity.org/featured/world-communion-sunday-origins-begin-at-shadyside-church-in-pittsburgh/#:~:text=did%20the%20Rev.-,Dr.,held%20where%20it%20was%20born.

     [5] Video of Buzz Aldrin’s 3-minute broadcast on the way home to earth, in which he read from Psalm 8: https://youtu.be/NYZgJ8RaLKs?si=DQ1Q-6InL4uYaDng

Meditation on Esther 7:1–6, 9–10; 9:20–22

First Presbyterian Church of Smithtown, NY

Pastor Karen Crawford

Sept. 29, 2024

We had a women’s picnic at the manse on Wednesday. All of the women of the congregation were invited. We had a great time of food and fellowship. Many thanks to my husband, Jim, for his grilling of the hamburgers and hot dogs. The women who came decided that we should, indeed, do it again next year.

We were celebrating three important milestones: Peg Holthusen’s 102^nd birthday, and the anniversary of my ordination on Sept. 25, 2011 and my installation to ministry at Smithtown on Sept. 25, 2022.

I was terrified on the day of my ordination in 2011. I didn’t know what to expect with ministry, but I knew that it would be challenging in every way, that I would need to learn how to do it and keep on learning and growing. Ordination would require me to pour myself into ministry as a calling. It wasn’t going to be like any job I ever had.

I didn’t expect to be the first woman to serve as pastor at three of my congregations.

I didn’t know that every church would need to upgrade their sound system after I arrived so that everyone could hear and become accustomed to a woman’s voice!

I didn’t know that I would come to enjoy preaching—though it has never ceased to humble me and bring butterflies to my stomach. The pulpit remains a sacred place for me, not one to utter casual or careless words or to promote a political or social agenda. Even while I may share personal stories, the message is never about me. It’s FOR you and an offering to the Lord.

When I open my mouth to share what God is teaching me, I always hope that it will be a message to strengthen and heal you, to help build the church, and draw us closer together. May you feel loved and accepted here, my flock. May you feel that you are one of a tightknit faith community—friends who care about you. May you know that you are one of the family!

May my little act of courage each Sunday morning, when in fear and trembling I share yet another message with you, give you courage to use your words and actions in God’s timing, when the Lord calls you to be brave.

This is what the book of Esther is about—one brave voice! She risked everything to save her people during a dark and violent time.

Esther is one of only two books of the Bible named for women. The other is Ruth. But Esther is nothing like Ruth.  I don’t know that I have ever preached on Esther before, while I have often preached on Ruth. Esther comes up only once in the 3-year lectionary cycle of scriptures.  I find it to be a difficult and strange book, but an important one to read and seek spiritual understanding and application for today.

John Calvin didn’t like the book of Esther. He left it out of his biblical commentaries.

Martin Luther didn’t like Esther. “I am so great an enemy to Esther,” said Luther, “that I wish it had not come to us at all.” [1] He didn’t like the epistle of James, either, and that’s one of my favorite books.

Esther became a Jewish heroine, but “she’s not your typical saint.” This is Debbie Blue speaking in Christian Century Magazine (January 20, 2016 issue). Debbie is pastor of House of Mercy Church in St. Paul, Minnesota, and author of the book, Consider the Women (Eerdmans). But she also says Esther is meant to be a comedy, though “Esther’s comic aspects aren’t contained in a few jokes… It’s a timeless sort of farce, full of men behaving badly,” especially the king of the Persian Empire.

At the start of the book, he is throwing a “preposterously lavish party” that lasts for six months! During that time, the drunken king summons his queen, Vashti, to parade in front of his guests wearing nothing but her crown. She refuses. “His advisors suggest that perhaps a harem of the most beautiful young virgins might brighten things up a bit,” says Pastor Blue. “They will gather them from far and wide.” Each night, the king will have a different one visit him, and whichever one he likes best will become his new queen. This is definitely not a story for the Sunday School! Before the young woman are sent to him, they must go through an elaborate beautifying ritual, something that takes an entire year.

Esther, a Jewish orphan raised by her uncle Mordecai, wins the contest and becomes the Persian king’s next queen. The irony is that his new love interest is, well, Jewish, at a time when the king has been persuaded by Haman, an evil prince in his court, into killing the Jewish people.

Mordecai persuades Esther to use her voice and talk to the king. The only problem is that one cannot go in to see the king uninvited, unless one has a death wish. Esther, who hasn’t been summoned by the king for a month, has to wait until he holds out his golden scepter, which could be days, months, or not at all. Mordecai doesn’t tell her that God is calling her to this mission. God isn’t mentioned in the book of Esther! He says, “Who knows? Perhaps you have come to royal dignity for just such a time as this.”

Dear friends, yesterday was the first Synod-Sponsored Mission Day at Shinnecock Presbyterian Church. Though there were some work projects chosen by the church in the afternoon, the whole point of the day was to build relationships between the small, now elder-led congregation and the sister churches in our presbytery and synod. At least three presbyteries were represented. But only 26 people in all the synod registered for the event. The good news is that five of the 26 people who came were from our church!

Praise the Lord!

One of the organizers said that many people in the presbytery and synod didn’t know of the existence of the Shinnecock church, which is the oldest continuously worshiping Reformed Indigenous Congregation in the United States. Or they might know about it but have never been there or met any of the members. The second was true for me. It would also be a time for the Shinnecock church to show “radical hospitality,” said its former pastor. And they did!

A phrase that one of the organizers used caught my attention. She said, “This is a new endeavor in this time and place.” I thought of Esther and Mordecai’s question, that maybe she had come to be queen in such a time and place for a reason—to do something brave and terrifying and, in the end, save the lives of the Jewish people.

Sisters and brothers, I invite you all to join with me in a celebration of my ordination and God’s faithfulness. My life and ministry are a testimony to whatever the Lord calls you to, the Lord will empower you to do it! I have just finished 13 years in Presbyterian ministry! I look forward to the next 13 years or more, Lord willing, with you! I have peace with this life, with what God has called me to do, despite the challenges. I have never worked this hard—so many hours every week, doing many different things.

But I have the peace that is a gift of Christ. A peace that surpasses human understanding. A peace he offers as a gift to you, as well.

I can’t wait to see what else the Lord has planned for us, all the new endeavors in this time and place that will certainly keep on shaping us into the strong, faithful people of God the Lord wants us to be. May God give us courage to use our words and actions in God’s timing, when the Lord calls us to be brave.

Let us pray. Holy God, thank you for the example of Esther, a woman chosen in such a time and place to use her voice and save the lives of many people. Thank you for your gift of peace to all believers who seek to serve you. Thank you for the Mission Day at Shinnecock that built friendships and helped with cultural understandings. Deepen our relationships with our Presbyterian neighbors, dear Lord. Help us all to grow in faith and faithfulness, sharing the gospel, communicating your love. Give us courage, like you did for Esther, to use our words and actions in your timing, when You call us to be brave. In the name of your Son we pray. Amen.

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      [1] Debbie Blue, Christian Century Magazine, Jan. 20, 2016 issue.

Meditation on James 3:1–12

First Presbyterian Church of Smithtown, NY

Pastor Karen Crawford

Sept. 15, 2024

Today, I am filled with gratitude. Today is the first day of Sunday School!

We have families bringing young children to church, helping us to be true to our vow and our calling to nurture the children in faith, hope, love, and service. Praise God!

And we have volunteers willing to make the commitment to teach the children about God’s love, through our curriculum, which connects with our lectionary scriptures each week. And through their example, the way they walk the walk and talk the talk. Through the way they live their lives!

I don’t have to tell you that it’s hard to find Sunday School teachers these days. Will you raise your hand if you have ever helped with Sunday School or Vacation Bible School? Thank you for your service! It’s a big commitment, isn’t it, especially when it means, in our situation, that our teachers will teach every week and not be able to join with their church family in the second half of worship? Our teachers always miss the message, the music, the pastoral prayer and sharing of joys and concerns. They miss the sacraments—Baptism and Communion.

I don’t have to tell you that fewer young adults are attending church with their children than, say, in the 1960s, when our congregation had grown with the town of Smithtown and built the Christian Education wing. They completed it in 1963, when the Rev. William Brown, Jr. was minister here. For a number of years, says our Church and Community (Second Edition)history book, the church claimed the highest Church School enrollment in the Long Island Presbytery.

Who was here in the 1960s, when the congregation was overflowing with children and youth? That must have been amazing! By 1972, however, there was a downward trend in enrollment. Listen. “In the age group 2 years through 6^th grade, there were 400 registered in 1972. This dropped to 365 in 1973 and at the end of 1974, there were 302 registered. A dedicated teaching and support staff of 80, including 37 teenagers, is required (by 1975) to conduct classes at both 9 and 11 o’clock each Sunday.”

Times are a little different now, aren’t they?

But today isn’t the day to mourn what we no longer have. Today is the day to count our blessings.

Today, as we commission Sunday School teachers and bless the children and their backpacks, we celebrate and appreciate the Lord’s goodness and our beautiful church family. We give thanks for the gifts of the Holy Spirit poured into the flock, for the loving relationships that abound, and our growing in faith and faithfulness.

James tells us in our reading today that not many of us should be teachers because God will judge those who teach with a greater strictness. Of course, he is preaching to a congregation of teachers because every disciple of Jesus Christ is called to teach. The Lord tells us this in Matthew 28!  The risen Christ returns to his followers and says to them in verses 18 through 20, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spiritand teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you.”

Yes, we are all called to be teachers and share the gospel with the world around us, with our congregation, families, neighbors, people we work with, people we run into at Stop and Shop, Trader Joes and Whole Foods….

And what is the one thing that every teacher needs to teach? In James’ time and community, there were no curriculum guides, printed materials, or video clips, of course. They only had their faith as it had been taught and modeled to them; the Scripture they had learned in the synagogue, for we believe that James’ congregation was Jewish; their own stories of what God had done in their hearts, minds, and lives; and their own voices, their speech!

James, possibly the James in Acts 15 who was a half brother of Jesus and led the Church at Jerusalem, includes himself with all the other disciples when he says, “For all of us make many mistakes” with our speech, with our teaching. He urges us to be “perfect” and not make any mistakes with our speech.

At the same time, he assures us that it is impossible to be perfect in our speech!

He uses some concrete examples as lessons for us—as if he, too, is a Sunday School teacher with an object lesson. He does this in the example of Jesus, who often used object lessons to help us in our understanding and obedience to God’s word. Jesus used all sorts of familiar images and objects from his world, such as a camel going through the eye of a needle; a coin with Caesar’s picture on it to answer a question about taxes; a fish with a coin inside its mouth to show how God provides for the disciples to pay taxes; a sower, seeds, soil, rocks, and weeds to talk about the faithful being patient and persevering; birds that are fed and flowers with fine clothing, and God seeing a sparrow dropping from the sky to illustrate how lovingly God cares for all Creation and especially for us; fig trees that, like those who are called to follow Christ, bear good fruit; a candle and a bushel basket and a lamp on a stand to urge us to share the gospel and let the light of Christ shine on the world.

James opens a window into First Century Christianity when he teaches us to tame our tongues, as if we were horses, keeping our bodies in check with a bridle. He tells us to look at ships, a popular mode of travel in ancient times, especially when you live on the water. We can almost hear the wind blowing when he says, “Though they are so large that it takes strong winds to drive them,” but they are guided by only a small rudder, “wherever the will of the pilot directs.” The tongue is a small member, as well, yet “boasts of great exploits.”

My image of a dry, rocky, desert region in the biblical world is set aside when he uses the metaphor of a forest fire—set ablaze by the tongue, which is a fire. It’s as if James truly is talking to us—in our time and place. All of us can imagine a forest fire!

Friends, this message from James cannot be more relevant, particularly in a presidential election year. Amen?

Everything we say, dear ones, can never be unsaid! We can’t take it back, though we can ask for forgiveness and vow to be more careful in our speech so as not to hurt anyone. Everything we listen to on the 24-hour cable news, ROKU, Youtube, Satellite radio, or a podcast cannot be unheard. Our ears, minds, and hearts hold onto these powerful words that can build up, encourage, and bring life, healing and wholeness, or break down, cause resentment, and destroy relationships and a person’s sense of self, strength of character, and purpose.

Words can do all that and more!

Words can divide and stir conflict and unrest in a family, church, community, nation, world.

Words can also bridge divides, mend what is broken, put out fires, bring unity and peace.

The next images carry us back to Genesis, when God created “every species of beast and bird, reptile and sea creature,” and invited the human being to name and tame them, be a steward of God’s Creation. These wild animals can be tamed, but not the tongue, James says.

“No one can tame the tongue—a restless evil, full of deadly poison.” With it, we both curse and bless the Lord and Father. From the same mouth comes curses and blessings! A spring cannot pour forth both fresh and brackish water. A fig tree can’t yield olives or a grapevine figs. He might be gesturing toward the sea when he says, “No more can saltwater yield fresh.”

Dear friends, I am so happy that we HAVE children in our church family! I am OVER THE MOON. I can’t tell you how happy I am that God has entrusted us with children and youth to guide, bless, care for, learn from, and love. And I am so glad and thankful that we have good and kind people, willing to take up the cross and follow Jesus, though it means a weekly commitment to nurture our church’s children in the faith.

But, sisters and brothers, they need our help. They need our encouraging words, our prayerful support. We need more adult and teen helpers, perhaps taking turns, on a rotating basis. We need substitute teachers. We need someone to give our teachers a break on Easter Sunday, so they can worship with their families.

And here’s what else we can do, even if we cannot all be in the classroom. Let us remember that we are ALL teachers! Every time we open our mouths, we are teaching someone something. We are revealing who we are and what we believe. Every time we speak to our children and youth, greet them as they come into church or leave for Sunday school or eat with us in parish hall. Or, every time we fail to greet them or eat with them in the parish hall. Every time they hear us talking to each other, telling stories about our church, families, vacations, and places of work, they are watching and listening. They are learning from us!

The question is, what are they learning? Is what they hear and see helping them with their journeys of faith?

The good news is that we have assistance with this important labor of love. We are not alone in this difficult task of teaching and discipling, with a call to be perfect in our speech, when NO ONE is perfect in speech—because the tongue cannot be tamed!

The risen Christ promises his disciples, after commanding them to baptize and teach the nations what he has taught them, “I am with you always, even to the end of the age.”

Will you pray with me?

Let us pray.

Holy One, thank you for being our example of perfect, self-giving love and grace for sinners, who cannot tame our tongues. Thank you, Lord, for the promise that you are with us always, even to the end of the age. Help us, Lord, to speak life and shine light into the darkness with our tongues, to use words to build up, heal and make whole what is broken, and unite and bring peace where there is strife and conflict. We thank you for your blessing of Sunday School, for our children and young families, and for the good and kind volunteers who are willing, able, and available to teach. We ask that you help us raise up more volunteer leaders so that we may continue to be faithful to nurture our children and youth and grow in faith and faithfulness. Strengthen and guide us, Lord, your Church, as we seek to take up our crosses and follow you. Amen.

Meditation on Mark 7:24–37

First Presbyterian Church, Smithtown

Pastor Karen Crawford

Sept. 8, 2024

Jim and I went to the powwow at the Shinnecock Nation on Labor Day. This was the 78^th year for this Labor Day Weekend event that includes a host of Indian nations and draws thousands of people. We went to celebrate Native American peoples, their histories and cultures, traditions and ways of life, languages and beliefs.

I had heard about the Shinnecock Presbyterian Church being involved with the event. I learned how the church is the oldest continuous Indian congregation in the U.S. and has served the Shinnecock people since the late 1600s. The powwow guidebook describes the church as “a place to gather and offer prayers of thanksgiving and hope for the continued health, prosperity, and unity of the people.”

The former pastor led the opening prayer each day. Women in native clothing danced to a dramatic reading of the Lord’s Prayer in a Native American translation. Then, the Lord’s Prayer was led in one of the native languages. It was quite moving to see and experience. From our lawn chairs, Jim and I listened to the native songs, heard the stories, and watched the native dances performed by people of all ages.

Then there came a moment when I felt extremely uncomfortable. Visitors—with my skin color—were asking to pose with Native Americans in ceremonial garb wandering through the gathering. It was as if they were being treated like Disney characters and not real people, our Long Island neighbors.

Those who live on the reservation have children and grandchildren who attend Southampton public schools and pursue higher education and careers, just like our children and grandchildren. The powwow guide featured photos and descriptions of their students pursuing Arizona Sheriff Training or studying Aerospace Engineering, Business, Healthcare Administration, Kinesiology, Accountancy, Computer Information Systems, Early Childhood Education, and 2D graphic design, to name a few areas of study. One young lady dreams of working in television at NBC and is studying Media, Culture, and Communication at NYU.

There were other people profiled, as well, adorable babies born since the last powwow and children and adults recognized for excellence. Congratulations were offered to Officer Kedi Goree on her promotion to Detective with the Southampton Town Police Department. She is the first female Shinnecock member on the Southampton Police Department. Three young Shinnecock men are pictured in uniforms as new members of the Southampton Fire Department.

And how can we not celebrate and give thanks for Rosemary Graham Rogers, who served 40 years as the organist and music director for the Shinnecock Presbyterian Church, introducing a variety of musical styles and organizing all the annual holiday programs and children’s performances? She developed a program to teach tribal members piano and voice. The 94-year-young woman loves drawing and painting and has sold her handmade greeting cards at the powwow.

I left the event both happy and sad, as we drove by homes on the reservation where our Native American neighbors reside, many who live below the poverty line. I was glad we didn’t have to see the multi-million-dollar mansions of the rich and famous surrounding them on what was once native lands and still would be, if the world was a fair and just place.

As Jim drove us home from the powwow, I closed my eyes and heard the music we had listened to, saw the colorful clothing of the ceremonial dress, and the beautiful dances we had watched as I drifted in and out of sleep.

I wondered, as we start a new school year, how the children from the reservation are treated in Southampton schools. Are they ever made to feel, I don’t know, like they are outsiders or don’t belong there, when, in fact, their ancestors have lived on Long Island for about 13,000 years?

Our culture isn’t the only one plagued by prejudice and unequal treatment of people.

In our reading in the second chapter of James, the writer is scolding the young congregation for showing favoritism based on wealth and status. “My brothers and sisters,” James writes, “do you with your acts of favoritism really believe in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ? For is a person with gold rings and in fine clothes comes into your assembly, and if a poor person in dirty clothes also comes in, and if you take notice of the one wearing the fine clothes and say, ‘Have a seat, here, please,’ while the one who is poor you say, ‘Stand there,’ or ‘Sit at my feet,’ have you not made distinctions among yourselves, and become judges with evil thoughts? Listen, my beloved brothers and sisters. Has not God chosen the poor in the world to be rich in faith and to be heirs of the kingdom that he has promised to those who love him?’”

Then, in our gospel reading in Mark, we are horrified to hear Jesus dismissing the Syrophoenician woman’s request to heal her little daughter, possessed by an unclean spirit. She begs for help, and he says the unthinkable. “Let the children be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” He is essentially calling the woman and her people “dogs,” which was the worst kind of insult back then when dogs were not the cute pets we treat like family members today.

Jesus marvels at her persistence for her daughter’s sake, as she responds, “Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.” He tells her to go home; he has healed her little girl because of her faith. Scholars debate why Jesus treats this Gentile woman this way. Some say that Jesus reacts badly to a request for healing from a Gentile because he is weary from ministry and annoyed that she has sought him out when he is taking some time for himself. Others say that we misunderstand his tone of voice, that he was merely stating a fact and not being cruel. Still others say this underscores the reality that Jesus didn’t heal everybody who was sick. And he didn’t fix everything that was broken in his world, as others expected him to do.

Honestly, we can’t know why Jesus said what he did. But I can’t help but question why the original editors would include this story in two of the gospels (Mark and Matthew, where she is called the Canaanite woman), if not to highlight something important to us. I think we need to know that even Jesus struggled with his own cultural prejudice, probably learned from childhood. As a human being, he would struggle with all the same feelings and temptations that we do in the context of his ancient world. And yet, when the woman confronts him about his bad attitude, he recognizes that he was wrong! He changes his mind, and he changes his behavior! From that moment on, he is different.

We see evidence of this change when he returns from the Gentile region of Tyre and continues to the region of the Decapolis, a center of Hellenistic and Roman culture. Some people bring him a man who is deaf, with impaired speech, and beg for Jesus to lay hands on him and heal him. He responds by taking the Gentile man away from the crowd. He puts his fingers in his ears and uses his own saliva on the man’s tongue to heal him. Jesus looks up to heaven, lets out a great sigh, and says, “Ephphatha!” or “Be opened!” as Mark translates.

The man’s hearing is restored and his tongue “released.” From now on, he can speak “plainly.” He is returned to life to the fullest in his community and is no longer without voice.

This “Ephphatha” or “Be opened!” moment captures my imagination, as it comes after he almost blunders with a woman seeking the healing of her little girl, possessed by a demon. It’s as if Jesus himself has gained a new understanding of who he is and what he is called by God to do. His mind has been opened and never again will he see things the same way.

And it’s like this with you and me, my friends. When we worship, study the Bible, and seek to walk with Christ each day, we begin to see things in a different way. In this Season of Creation, we are becoming more aware, with the Spirit’s help, of our broken relationships with our human and non-human neighbors. We cannot help but be persuaded to have a change of mind and heart—to look inside ourselves and to hope and act with Creation, seeking to mend what is broken, heal what is hurting, and work for peace and reconciliation.

Maybe it’s coincidence, or maybe it’s the Spirit’s timing. This week we received an email inviting us to join in our synod’s mission to help with home repairs on the Shinnecock reservation. Even if we are not able to attend and physically help them on September 28, I have included information about the mission in our bulletins for you to share with others and as a reminder for us to hold the Shinnecock people in our prayers, just as the Presbyterian church on the reservation does every week—offering prayers of thanksgiving and hope for the continued health, prosperity, and unity of the people.

May we continue to have these moments, my sisters and brothers, along our faith journeys, moments of “Ephphatha!” or “Be opened!” that will change our hearts, minds, and lives forever, just as it did for the Gentile man whom Christ healed in the gospel of Mark –and for all who witnessed the healing or heard the story later, though Jesus asked them to keep it a secret.

May we be moved to share our testimonies and proclaim the goodness of our Lord, as those who were astounded beyond measure, saying, “He has done everything well; he even makes the deaf to hear and the mute to speak.”

Let us pray.

God our Creator, thank you for your love for us and for the example of your Son, who struggled with many of the same feelings and temptations with which we struggle. Thank you for your grace, when we don’t always get things right the first time. Open our eyes to what we need to see about ourselves and our relationships with human and nonhuman creatures. Help us to hear your voice clearly and find the right paths for our lives. Transform our hearts and minds so that we may be used as vessels of healing and instruments of your peace. In our name of your Son we pray. Amen.

Meditation on John 14 and Revelation 21

In Memory of Jamella Charlene Carr Farley

June 11, 1943 – September 5, 2024

First Presbyterian Church of Smithtown

Rev. Karen Crawford

Sept. 7, 2024

Jamella was 18 when Jim proposed to her on the Empire State Building.

She had been raised in Catholic school and had graduated from Cathedral High School in New York City.

Jim had attended public school. He was 4 years older. He was a police officer and had served in the U.S. Army.

They met at a dance. He swept her off her feet.

She said, “Yes,” that memorable day on the Empire State Building. “But don’t give me the ring!” she said. “My mother will kill me.”

She went to her half sister, Dodie, for help persuading her parents that she hadn’t lost her mind, that she was making the right choice. James Wakefield Farley was destined to be her husband. This was the one thing she wanted in life. She was sure that she wanted to be a loving wife to Jim.

They were married in the Catholic Church, 10 days before Jamella’s 20^th birthday. Six years later, she and Jim were the parents of four children: Melissa, Allison, James, and Brian. She stayed home with them until her youngest went to kindergarten. Then, she found work at Dorne and Margolin for many years. Although she never went to college herself, she was determined to help provide that opportunity for her children.

Jamella was not an adventurer. She didn’t long to travel the world. She found her happiness in spending quiet time at home. She and Jim moved into the Bohemia house in 1965. She loved reading. She enjoyed watching Hallmark movies. She loved the color yellow. She drank red wine. A special treat was eating cheesecake for lunch with her sister-in-law or friend. She didn’t like crowds and was often the first one to leave a party. But she loved her family and was proud of Jim, who had followed in his father’s footsteps and became a NYC firefighter.

When Jim developed serious heart and lung problems and retired on disability, she was his caregiver. Jim passed away in 1997. He was only 57. She was suddenly a widow at 53.

After Jim’s passing, the four-bedroom home in Bohemia was too large for one person and held too many memories. Her children moved her into a two-bedroom condo in Holbrook. For the first time in her life, she lived alone. And though she missed the love of her life, she learned to like being on her own, having her own place, her privacy, freedom, and independence. She fell into a new routine.

But then came a health crisis—a stroke in 2013. Doctors prepared her family to accept that she would never be able to function as she had before. She was living in an assisted living facility—and hating it. Hating her loss of independence, privacy, freedom, and quiet. Hating her loss of her home. Her family, concerned about the future, listened to medical experts and sold the condo to pay for their mother’s care in assisted living.

And then, she surprised everyone. She gradually recovered much of what she had lost to the stroke. While her right side remained weak, she could walk and talk. Swallowing food was difficult, so she drank Ensure. She was never able to drive again, which really bothered her. She was plagued by seizures, beginning in 2015. Still, she was determined to grow strong and live on her own. Her family moved her from assisted living into an apartment, which she embraced as her new home, and she began to rebuild her life, with continued, loving support from her children.

There came a time when she could no longer live alone. Her health went into sharp decline. She was in and out of the hospital, back in rehab. Her family was fighting for 24-hour home health care. Allison had just assured her mom that it wouldn’t be much longer. She read her the emails from a lawyer, who was helping her case.

Her mother clung to hope.

And then Allison received the call early Thursday morning. The Lord had called her to her heavenly home.

This is the promise in John 14—that our Savior has gone to prepare a place for each of us in his Father’s house of many rooms. He prepared a place, made a way for us to return home to God through Christ’s death and resurrection, as he promised his first disciples on that sorrowful day, thousands of years ago. This promise is still true for Christ’s followers. One day, we don’t know when, the Risen and Ascended Christ will come again and take us to himself, so that where he is, we will be also.

We anticipate that day to come, when, as John shared in his vision, we are finally dwelling with God, face to face. He will wipe every tear from our eyes. “Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away.”

Like Thomas, we know the way to where we are going, even if we don’t know that we know it. The way there is through trusting in Christ, trusting in the power of God’s love, mercy, and grace. The way there is living today a new life, trying to live out, with the Spirit’s help, the loving ways of Christ. For he promised not to leave us orphaned—that wherever we are right now, even in this very room, the One Christ sent to us has already come and made a home in every heart that welcomes him.

We spend a great deal of time worrying about tomorrow and where we will live, if we are not able to live on our own in this world. Who can blame us for worrying about these things as we grow older? We spend a great deal of time making anxious plans, rather than resting in yet another promise for the faithful that Christ has made—the gift of his peace, not just in the world to come, but here and now. In the present. In this place.

“Peace I leave with you,” Christ is saying to us now, at this very moment. “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.