Fortune tellers read palms. Ancient Etruscans read the livers of sheep. I’ve been reading sidewalks.
Dark purple splatters? Evidence of a mulberry tree nearby. BB-sized rounds crunching under foot? Choke cherry pits. And that gray, leaf-shaped stain, like the shadow of an object vaporized by a space alien’s destructo-beam? The calling card of a silver maple tree.
Give thanks with a grateful heart, give thanks to the Holy One …
The children practiced their song repeatedly in the fellowship hall. The adults, gathered in the kitchen assembling Thanksgiving food baskets, didn’t mind listening to them. It had been a while since the struggling church heard children’s voices within its walls. The sound not only brought smiles to wrinkled faces, but a few tears as well to cataract eyes.
There’s a worshiping community near Detroit where the average age is around 85, with many who attend pushing 90 and then some. It sounds like a congregation, like many others across the country, that is struggling and will likely fold in a few years, right? Wrong. This church body is bustling and growing steadily with no hint of slowing down.
Wind out of the northwest, crisp and chill. I’m wishing I’d worn one more layer for this morning’s walk, maybe a shell over the fleece. Brr. Autumn is here.
In-person worship services are returning at various rates and with various restrictions. And while some congregations are reporting in-person attendance that’s higher than it was pre-Covid, most churches are reporting lower in-person attendance with a significant number of people attending their online services. My congregation is in that majority.
The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. once said, “Faith is taking the first step even when you don’t see the whole staircase.” Helen Keller observed that “faith is the strength by which a shattered world shall emerge into the light.” And John Calvin wrote faith is “the firm knowledge of God’s benevolence toward us.” While none of these definitions are fully complete, each gives us a glimpse of this Christian cornerstone, much like the beginning of Hebrews 11, which affirms that “faith is the assurance of things hoped for.”
More than three decades have passed since my trip to North Antrim — a rugged coastline battered by the sea on the far edge of Northern Ireland. While I still remember the beautiful views from the grassy hilltop above a sheer rock cliff, as well as the bone-chilling wind blowing in from the Atlantic, what remains with me is how intentionally coming together in community is a valued spiritual practice that can foster peace in this world.
The past is often something people like to forget, preferring to focus their energy on what the future holds. For the Indigenous living in Peru’s Andean Highlands, though, the past and future are viewed differently. It’s there that old shamans, speaking the language of the Aymara tribe, remind future-forward thinkers that “the past is in front of us, and the future is behind us.” The Aymara word for “past” is “nayra,” which also means eye, sight or front. The word for “future” is “q’ipa,” which translates as behind or the back.
Counting people in the pews is no longer a viable way of recording worship numbers. With some joining online, how does a church measure attendance trends?
