Kerkasiel: a customary law in the Netherlands giving a congregation the right to receive refugees during a religious service within their building.    A month ago a CMC member emailed me a story about a congregation in The Haag, Netherlands.  Like us, they are hosting a person – or in their case a whole family – their government is trying to deport.  While we in the US have the “sensitive locations” policy that instructs ICE officers not to enter church buildings, the Netherlands has a law that government officials cannot enter a church building during religious services.  So, since October, this congregation has been holding an around-the-clock service.  A kind of holy filibuster.  Faith leaders from around the Netherlands are signing up to lead different shifts, including the likely-not-so-well-attended 3am and 4am times slots.  Thanks to the generous offer of this member to donate frequent flier miles, Austin McCabe Juhnke

The new year is in full swing, which means all those things that have been holding off until “after the holidays” are also beginning to gain momentum.  January is an especially full time in the life of our congregation, and if you are here for the next few Sundays, you will notice that quite a gauntlet has emerged in the church lobby.  As of this afternoon, there are four large easels with various sign-ups looming down the corridor between the front door and the entrance to the sanctuary.  I looked up that word to make sure I was using it correctly, and, indeed, here is one pertinent definition of “gauntlet”: (noun) go through an intimidating or dangerous crowd, place, or experience in order to reach a goal. While that is the definition I was thinking of, I hope it is clear that I’m using that word cheekily.  I hope that

A new calendar year is underway.  It’s a good time to look back on the previous year and give thanks for how the Spirit of love, grace, and justice has accompanied us along the way.  It’s also a good time to change the hard-to-pronounce Phloem and Xylem blog title to the more pragmatic Midweek Blog.  Without trying be exhaustive, here are some highlights from each month of 2018. January | Winter Seminar featured Sara Thompson and Jonathan Brenneman (who have since married) presenting on skill building for confrontational nonviolence.  One of the role playing scenarios I remember had us pairing up and practicing a de-escalation of encountering someone angrily kicking their dog.        February | Our Fellowship Hall was transformed into Chateau CMC for the open mic coffee house coinciding with the PyeongChang Winter Olympics.  Along with the musical performances, in-house Olympic-like events included trying to move an Oreo from

This morning I was listening to a podcast where the guest made an off-hand comment that drugs – and money, the host added – make people more extreme versions of themselves.  Whether or not this is true for drugs and money, it seems to be true for the Christmas season. This is a season in which we feel things more deeply.  The grief in our life rises to the surface.  Simple joys feel richer.  Losses and longings have more weight.  The warmth of what holds us dear glows brighter.  The coldness that separates us from others, and ourselves, intensifies.  Relational complexities get more complex.  It doesn’t help that all this takes place during the darkest days of the year. This is our common lot.  The drug of the Christmas season. Just naming and recognizing this is a helpful first step. My hope for myself and you is that we can

“The real function of discipline is not to provide us with maps but to sharpen our own sense of direction so that when we really get going we can travel without maps.” — Thomas Merton, “Renewal and Discipline” essay in book Contemplation in a World of Action I could have included any of thousands of quotes from Thomas Merton.  This one comes from an essay I’m currently reading. Monday was the 50 year anniversary of the death of Thomas Merton, one of the most important voices coming out of America in the 20th century. Exactly 27 years before his death, on December 10, 1941, Merton first arrived at the Abbey of Gethsemani, a Trappist monastery in Kentucky.  That place became the fertile ground out of which grew Merton’s peacefully relentless spiritual and intellectual explorations. Merton’s initial retreat from the world gave him a vantage point from which he engaged the