over and around the rainbow

I felt strange and perhaps a little mischievous as I opened the church doors for R2D2 late Saturday night. I saw some of our neighbors peeking through their house windows with a shocked and worried look on their face. Perhaps that is why I slept so poorly on Saturday; I worried the reaction during worship would be the same.

R2D2 was to be our surprise Epiphany visitor from a land far, far away, so after giving him a tour of the sanctuary, I tucked him in the Sunflower Room, covered him with some blankets, and bid him goodnight.

He was in fine form when we woke him up on Sunday morning.

Thanks to Marina Kaufman and Phil Rhoads we have a video clip of his Sunday morning appearance. You can watch it by clicking here: R2D2 comes to Rainbow

It’s a rare and beautiful thing to look out and see an entire congregation smiling. And to see the look on the children’s faces was priceless. And Artoo’s message was great too:

Just because you are from a far away land or just because you look or act different or just because you speak a different language doesn’t mean you don’t have gifts.  

We have Kevin Schwarz to thank for R2D2’s appearance at Rainbow. Kevin spent a year and a half building this unit. With a push of a button, his R2 model can make happy sounds, sad sounds, and he can even put together full sentences, which probably made a few hearing assistance devices go baserk on Sunday. Sorry about that.

Kevin’s brother Greg also deserves some credit. In fact this whole idea was his. And so even though I will end this post with a thank you note written by Greg, I first want to say to him:  Thank YOU for making Epiphany Sunday a memorable one. And in case you have in mind that next year we will sing “We Three Droids of Intergalactic Are,” forget about it.

From Greg (pictured below):

I need to take the time to thank my brother Kevin Schwarz for letting me use Kevin’s R2-D2 for the children’s story at church today. I would also like to thank Ruth Harder or letting us bring R2D2 to share with the people of Rainbow Mennonite Church. I am really proud of what my younger brother has accomplished. Thank you for sharing your skills with us buddy.

Gregory Schwarz with the R2D2 unit that his brother Kevin built.

Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!

These words were penned by the 19th century American poet Emma Lazarus. You can find her full sonnet here: “The New Colossus.”

This poem is engraved on a bronze plaque mounted inside the lower level of The Statue of Liberty. The word Colossus means big and refers to the tallest statue known in the ancient world, built around 280 BC in honor of the Greek God Colossus. Perhaps in calling her poem “The New Colossus,” Lazarus was referring to the giant spirit with which American was founded on.

These words, especially the ones I have highlighted above, have taken on new depth and meaning for me recently. It started when our good friend Ben Schrag composed a song based on these words. You can listen to it here:

https://benschrag.bandcamp.com/track/the-new-colossus

Ben said that these words had been on his mind, and like a lot of creative ideas and projects, the song had “worked its way to a boil on the back burner.” Then one afternoon, about a week before the Syrian refugee crisis became the center of national news, and with his two young children sitting quietly across from him, he recorded this song in his living room.

It is amazing to hear such a giant message sung in such an intimate, vulnerable way.

Ben is, in his words, a “big believer in striking it small.” He hopes to write enough and sing enough with the hopes that people might just care enough. It might, as he says, be just a small drop in the information, social media ocean, but I think it’s such an important drop that will create positive ripple effects. People might just listen. People might just care.

I hope by sharing this song in worship on Sunday (thank you Jesse Graber for singing it) and by sharing it here, that we will all lift our lamps as we bring in this new year and as we seek to light the way for one another, especially the huddled masses among us yearning to breathe free.

Every year since we have been married my husband has been in charge of the Christmas postcard and we both like it that way. Usually I’m in awe with what he creates. He’s funny, clever, and thoughtful.

This year’s postcard is no exception. However, I never thought I’d be pictured as Marty McFly from the Back to The Future movies. Here it is, a play on the movie poster.

My first reaction was that it didn’t seem very Christmas-y. Yes, I know that October 21, 2015 marked the future in Back to the Future Part II. Yes, it’s clever. I just wasn’t sure if people would get it and what there was even to “get.” Quite frankly, the movies don’t portray the past or the future as particularly hopeful places. Then again it is an interesting reflection on time. And besides, Jesse is in charge and we both like it that way.

When Jesse asked me if there was anything I would like to the add, I only had two requests: 1) Add Rainbow stripes on my phone, and 2) Include a line from Kahlil Gibran’s reflection on Time in his book The Prophet. You can read the full writing here: Time 

And so as I addressed each card (the one job Jesse gives me each year), and as I placed a card in each church mailbox at Rainbow, I found myself praying these words with each postcard delivered: Let today embrace the past with remembrance and the future with longing. 

We both stand by what we wrote on the back of the postcard:  “No matter how many mistakes have been made int he past, no matter how bleak the future looks at times, we are fortunate to have each other, a loving family, Rainbow, and some of the best friends in any timeline.”

Merry Christmas,

Doc, Rev. Marty McFly, Pepper our flying cat, and Helo the pouty one

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It’s that time of year when I hear people either laud or loathe the sounds of Christmas. Some of us can’t imagine life/December without music and others could do without it and actually be happier as a result.

I say this because on Sunday, Rainbow will be alive with the sound of music. Aided by members of the Rainbow choir, a string ensemble, and soloists, we will sing movements from Handel’s oratorio Messiah, including the Hallelujah chorus. Following worship and weather permitting, we will take our singing to the church playground for a 45 minute outdoor Christmas Carol Sing.

I remember the first time I sang Handel’s oratorio Messiah. I felt like the guy on the far left in this picture. I didn’t know where we were half the time. When I was on the right page, I was a few measures behind everyone so I just lip-synced my way through. I still do, although I’ve sung it enough now that I might hit at least 50% of the notes, especially if I sit by someone who can sing (something I plan to do). 

I hope to see some of you on Sunday. And for those who wish for a quieter Christmas, perhaps you’ll enjoy this presentation of the Hallelujah chorus by a group of “silent monks”. 

Special thanks to my musical husband Jesse Graber for creating the above cartoon. Used with permission, although I might owe him.

Just over a year ago, I took a boat ride across the Sea of Galilee. As our group from the US loaded the boat, one of the captains hung a US flag and began to play patriotic music over the boat sound system. Fortunately everyone in our group agreed to ask the boat DJ politely if we could enjoy the boat ride without the music. We left the flag alone.

We had just spent that day wading in the sea, collecting rocks, and visiting with the other tourists. Hours before loading the boat, we had stood on the banks and watched the sun go down.

We sang together that evening. We sang songs like O healing river, send down your waters. Other groups were singing too. In fact, one large group was in the water to witness several baptisms. They were singing Lord you have come to the lakeshore in a language unknown to us, but we knew the tune so we all hummed along.

I say we, but I actually did not have much of a voice at that point in the trip. I didn’t really feel like singing or humming. I wasn’t in the mood to sing songs of peace in a land where peace is so far from reality. I was feeling angry. It felt downright naïve to sing songs of peace. Earlier that morning our group passed through a heavily guarded Israeli checkpoint. We spent an hour walking through this gated maze like structure with hundreds of Palestinians trying to get to work and school. It felt like we were in a cattle shoot. Many of the armed guards when seeing our group from the U.S. would say Shalom, a Hebrew word for peace. So no, I didn’t feel much like singing or saying the word peace, and I certainly didn’t feel like hearing America the Beautiful on that boat ride.

This unique crèche imagines the original nativity scene being disrupted by the Israeli separation barrier built around Bethlehem.

Fast forward to present day and once again, I feel my muscles tighten a little when I hear and sing the word peace. I once again fear that peace is just one of those feel-good idealistic notions. I question whether those of us who hope and pray for peace really take the time and risks to understand the deep trauma of those most affected by violence. Are our songs of peace rooted in the lived realities of those crying out for a dawning of peace right here and now? Or is our singing or is our praying for peace just another way we push aside or gloss over the real-life, the real-lived traumas that so many people in our world face?

Sometimes I’m afraid this is the case, but does it need to be that way? Might we sing and might we pray in a way that leads us more deeply into not away from these realities?

I want to share two things that I read this week that gives me hope that yes, it is still worth gathering to sing and pray in the midst of the harsh realities of our world. There is a way to pray and sing this that leads us not just to feel better about our lives, but to be more honest and hopeful about the world around us.

The first writing comes from a friend in Chicago Lenora Rand.

“Advent,” she writes, “is meant to be a time when we sit with the way things really are and hold them tenderly and gently, with the hope for how things are meant to be. Advent is about saying there is this beautiful world we all want to believe in and be living in.
And there is a terrible not-yet-ness about that world. Advent is about facing the truth of what is right now, and remembering what it takes to get to a Christmas kind of world.”
Or as another writer puts it: “In this strange season when we are suspended between realization and expectation, may we be found honest about the darkness, more perceptive of the light.”

A second example comes from NPR host Scott Simon. He said some beautiful things about prayer during his Saturday morning show. He was talking about the “prayer shaming” that has occurred this week after several political leaders tweeted or spoke about praying for victims of violence. Debates have broken out about just how effective or noneffective prayer is. This was Scott Simon’s thoughtful response:

I don’t know how many weeks I’ve been at my desk in the middle of the day and seen a bulletin cross the screen – urgent, shooting. It could be most any and every week – the names of towns, Colorado Springs last week, San Bernadino this week, Roseburg, Ore. in October, Platte, S.D. in September, Lafayette, La in July, Omaha in January. And the victims, heroes and assailants sometimes seem to run together. There is almost not enough time to mourn before the next crime. And within minutes, familiar voices chime in on social media and news channels to say the latest shooting simply proves that they’re right, both those who say greater gun control is needed and those who say gun regulations don’t work.

I think a lot of people who pray don’t think of it as a replacement for deeds or an occasion to utter a gift list of desires. They pray to open their minds and hearts. They pray when words won’t come and emotions overwhelm. They pray to mark a loss and to try to make a moment of peace in a landscape of turmoil. They don’t see prayer as a substitute for action but the beginning. The merit of prayer is what people do after they say, amen.

When I was near the Sea of Galilee and unable to sing, I remember feeling so grateful to be surrounded by those who could sing and pray. When my hope was a little bruised, my traveling mates sang and they prayed in a way that wasn’t a substitute for action, but the beginning or the continuation of action.

We may not always have the strength to sing and pray; Our voices might be tight, our muscles tense and fatigued. And hopefully there are those among us who like Zechariah, the aging priest, who still dare to proclaim:

By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace. -Luke 1: 78-79

I can imagine Zechariah singing this song to his beloved child John and then reminding him that the merit of this song and this prayer is what we do after we say Amen.

A view from the boat.

LaSalle Street Church

The year was 2006. Jesse and I had just spent a lovely afternoon walking the nearly empty, wet streets of Chicago. We made it to LaSalle Street Church just in time for the Christmas Eve Service. I was tired, hungry, cold, and feeling homesick for my KS family. All I wanted was to sing some familiar carols and go back to our Chicago apartment to exchange gifts and watch another Buffy the Vampire episode. Just when the worship service was about to start, a ragged-looking man entered the empty row in front of us with enough bags to fill the entire row. His soggy clothes and bags wreaked. I was not happy. That is, until the worship leader asked us to stand for the opening hymn. That’s when I realized that this filthy-looking and filthy-smelling man had a beautiful tenor voice. Not only that, this man knew all the hymns by heart. His voice was so beautiful that I closed my eyes and just listened to him sing each and every stanza of each and every hymn.

This memory came back to me this past week as more experiences of violence and brutality have been exposed, this time in the streets of Chicago. As I would expect, many of the good people of LaSalle Street Church took to the cold, wet streets. They left the comfort and warmth of their homes and sanctuaries and stood in solidarity with all those crying out for greater justice. The current events in Chicago and in our broader world inspired one LaSalle Church member Lenora Rand to write the following reflection: “This Is No Time for Those Happy Little Christmas Songs.”

As I read this article by Lenora I began to imagine our Advent characters like Jeremiah, Zechariah, John the Baptist, Mary, and Elizabeth walking through the streets singing about the dawning of greater peace. And as I read Luke chapter 1, I began to wonder if the aging priest Zechariah had a beautiful tenor voice (so beautiful that when he was struck mute it must have been quite a loss). Here is one of the songs Zechariah sang, and who knows, maybe his son John also sang his way through the wilderness as he prepared the way of the Lord?

By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.

Rain, cold, or shine, I hope the 2nd Sunday of Advent is filled with songs and prayers that call forth the dawning of peace on earth. Here is one more interesting article for those of us who wish to sing our way through Advent: https://themennonite.org/feature/an-advent-playlist/

Last week I spent an afternoon listening to Christmas music with Rainbow member Leo Goertz. I believe Leo has graced many choirs and worship services with his beautiful tenor voice!

A new church year begins this coming Sunday with the first Sunday of Advent. Churches will mark this seasonal change in different ways, if at all. At Rainbow we will make some minor changes to our order of worship, including the singing of a few more hymns. Plus, there will be a few more candles than usual and we will have a new visual arts display to enjoy. During children’s time Sara Mwagura will introduce Team Advent. Here they are playing a friendly game of foosball on my desk (not my idea): Zechariah, Elizabeth, and John the Baptist vs: Jeremiah, Mary, and Joseph. Yes, poor baby Jesus is what everyone is trying to get to (as in the ball). And yes, his cradle is the net which you can’t see in this picture. Let me be clear: This was not my idea.

These wood carvings are the work of John Gaeddert. They are on loan to us during the season of Advent.

The traditional colors of Advent are purple or deep blue, reflecting the color of the late autumn’s night sky lit by moon and stars, just before the dawning of a new day. As one writer puts it, “The long nights are fertile ground for dreaming—imagine the desert blossoming and sheltering a mother and a child, imagine peace prevailing, imagine God all in all. Joseph dreams in this season—of a child to be born soon, whom he is to name Emmanuel, God-with-us.”

Imagine.

Imagine the dawning of peace, already here and yet still coming.

Imagine taking our place as those who notice and welcome this great dawning.

Certain stretches along I-35 have become quite familiar these past two years, especially the 160-mile stretch between Kansas City and my hometown of Hillsboro, KS. I can’t say I always enjoy this three-hour drive, but I do enjoy the part of the drive when I look up and see the sign for Tequa Creek. The only time I miss out on seeing this sign is if I’m asleep (and not driving of course).

Often I’ll be lost in thought or caught up in the music I’m listening to, and then all of a sudden, without even actively looking for it, the sign appears. I can’t name or describe many others signs along this stretch of the interstate, but for some reason I always notice this one.

I did a search for what Tequa means and the only thing that comes up is tequila.

Each time I look up and see this sign, which is close to the half-way point, it’s like the horizon opens before me in a new way and I start anticipating where I’m going rather than where I have just been. For example, when Jesse and I were gradually moving into our new home in Kansas City, I would often spend the first half of the trip to Kansas City thinking about the people and relationships we were leaving behind and then, once we passed Tequa Creek, I found myself feeling hopeful and energized by what might become of our transition to Kansas City/Rainbow.

This opening of horizon and heart continues to happen today whether I’m traveling north or south. Tequa Creek continues to be like this invitation on the horizon calling me to turn my attention in a slightly new direction.

My recent travels along I-35 (three weekends in a row!) have been especially important because it’s given me several opportunities to see my parents in my home town of Hillsboro.

Home sweet Hillsboro home

In October my dad suffered a mild stroke. Thankfully my dad expects to have a full recovery and yet, we in the family recognize that this stroke is a game changer of sorts. There is now a cloud of concern that hovers over their/our life. I have all the confidence that my parents will create a new game plan post-stroke, but that might take some time and patience, and will be accompanied with a certain degree of worry.

I was aware of my own worry as I made my way north to Kansas City this past Saturday, but as usual as I passed the sign for Tequa Creek, and I felt my attention shift ever so slightly. The horizon once again opened before me, causing me to keep yearning with them for what might be, rather than only worrying about who or what is lost, who or what has changed.

In closing I’ll share a song that has been meaningful to me as I’ve traveled these roads over the past two years. I told the creator of this song Ben Regier that this song leaves me in a puddle of hopeful tears every time I listen to it. This track sung by Bethany Amstutz Schrag is a rough mix from the soon to be released album by The Book of JEBB.

This coming Sunday at Rainbow we will have a chance to learn about and give to an organization called Cross-Lines. For the over 50 years Cross-Lines has existed, Rainbow has sought to support their mission which is “to provide people affected by poverty with basic services and opportunities that encourage self-confidence and self-sufficiency.”

In addition to Cross-Lines being one of our annual church benevolences, every Christmas Rainbow members donate money, time, and materials to the Cross-Lines Christmas Store. This store, located at 1021 Pacific Ave, Kansas City, KS, gives approximately 500 parents the opportunity to receive new clothing, coats, toys, household items, and groceries. This store wouldn’t exist without the team of dedicated volunteers, including volunteers from Rainbow.

Greg

Rainbow is once again responsible for the food section of the store, while other churches are responsible for the toys, household items, and clothing. We anticipate needing $8,000 to purchase the food so please consider helping us meet this goal. You can make checks payable to Rainbow Mennonite Church, designated for Cross-Lines Christmas Store.

This year we also invite everyone to donate mittens, gloves, and hats which we will collect in baskets during the offering this coming Sunday. 

Finally, consider helping to sort items before the store opens or while customers shop the week of December 7. Talk to the Cross-Lines coordinators Annie Jones or Linda Graham for more information.

Speaking of Linda Graham, here is one of the best Cross-Lines stories I’ve heard involving underwear:

From Linda:

It was my favorite Sunday of the fall. The women of the church brought baked goods to sell to raise money. I was looking forward to eating peppernuts. It was also Cross-Lines Sunday. That year our church was assigned to bring underwear for the cause.

I took a seat next to a new member of the choir. I was settling in after getting my choir folder and glanced up to see the Cross-Lines Christmas tree where we all would hang our contributions and said, “Oh Gee!  I forgot my underwear!”

Her eyes got really big before I said, “I mean for the Christmas tree! Then we both dissolved into giggles!”

If anyone forgets their underwear this Sunday, keep it to yourself. And remember, this year we are collecting gloves, mittens, and hats.

A church member recently reminded me that November is National Adoption Awareness month. I know many lives at Rainbow have been touched in some way by adoption, foster care, and child advocacy work. I therefore invited a variety of people to reflect on these realities by writing prayers.

I will begin by sharing a prayer that I carried with me every day when I worked as a hospital chaplain in a neonatal special care nursery and labor and delivery unit. It’s not about adoption specifically, but I shared and prayed these words often with families and individuals as they navigated loss, faced difficult choices, and made seemingly impossible decisions in caring for little ones.

When I speak to you of my sorrow, it moves somehow
From its crouching place within.
Still I just don’t feel complete;
Life rarely seems to meet my dreams.
God of my hope, God of every birth,
Nurture in me, right spirit.

What followers are prayers written by Rainbow community members:

God, we pray for the many children in foster care in our country and around the world. We pray that they have a safe, loving and nurturing environment to grow up in. May we be a positive presence in the lives of these children as they experience difficult transitions and uncertainty.

We also pray for their birth parents and families that they can experience growth and supportive care as they try to become better parents and heal from their own wounds. We pray for the social workers, foster parents, judges, lawyers, child advocates, foster agencies and all those who support children and families in times of crisis –may they have clarity of mind and spirit as they do their best to provide safe and stable environments for these children and families.

A Prayer for Child Advocates

For those engaged in walking with children
Who look into eyes that reflect back the chaos in their lives
Who stay awake at night wondering about their safety
Please Mother God bring us light
As our relationship grows with children in need and we hear their stories
Teach us to also see the humanity in the adults connected to their lives
Show us how to build bridges of nurture and understanding to the whole family
Please Mother God show give us hope
Teach us to notice children along our path in the ways they need most
Show us when to fight for a better way, a better life
Call us to patience and perseverance when loving feels too hard
Please Mother God bring us light
Sometimes barriers and differences keep us from feeling like we can connect
Remind us human contact, exchanged smiles and shared tears
Are more than enough
Please Mother God give us hope
Help us to be attentive to the gift we have through the children in our lives
Help us to use our energy wisely and to see our work as our prayer
Give us friends to walk with us and listen to our stories
When the love we have for children who are not our flesh and blood
Threaten to break our hearts
Please Mother God bring us light

We pray for the expectant parents, birth parents, and adopted persons, who know that grief can be a lifelong journey. We pray that they may find comfort in Christ and the support of loving family members and friends.

We pray for foster families, that you give them compassion in hard moments, patience with the system, and peace when the children leave. May they demonstrate love to children who have come from families that are unable to love them as they deserve to beloved.

Bless and comfort all those birth parents who make the very difficult but selfless decision to place their child for adoption. Bless those individuals who unconditionally love and care for their adopted children.

Bless those individuals who open their hearts and homes to be foster parents. Bless the social workers, CASA workers, guardian ad litems and judges who strive to insure a safe and nurturing environment for all children.

A prayer for the children, who don’t ask to be part of a reality that gives them a label some spend a lifetime understanding. A prayer for the adults who walk with them, offering unconditional acceptance. Bless the ones who let them go, both as babies and young adults, that they acknowledge they have given of themselves in the best way they know.

A prayer for peace and serenity for birth parents who have made the loving and difficult decision to place their child for adoption, a prayer for the couple who is hoping to become parents through adoption and a prayer for the child who has the love and support from two families, one that gave her life and the other who will provide a future full of love, hope and guidance.

Help the children who feel unloved, who are abused and neglected, who feel like a burden. Help them to know that they ARE worthy. Help us to seek them out and walk alongside them; using our voice on behalf of them. They so often feel like they have no voice. “And He will answer, ‘I tell you the truth, when you refused to help the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were refusing to help me.’’ Matthew 25:45

It doesn’t matter if you are adopted or not or where you are from.

It only matters that we love each other like a family.