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Christmas Without Baby Jesus?
Christmas Revisited.

We arrived to 15 inches of snow in early January. As the day's light was fading, I stopped at the church where I would soon begin as Senior Pastor.
In those days, church had a plywood cut-out of the nativity scene. Using a spotlight, they projected a tender shadow on the building of Mary, Joseph, the guiding star and, wait, where was Jesus?
There was no baby Jesus in this nativity? That was strange.
I later learned that he was simply buried in those 15 inches. But I did make a joke about it â a progressive church that had a nativity scene but was so conflicted about the role of Jesus that he was simply left out.
The wooden nativity set disappeared years ago, but the place of Jesus â as a baby or an adult â is still a challenge for many. Even in the church.
We probably know more about the person Jesus today than ever before. The study of Jesus is intriguing and fascinating, if you are that type. I have loved it.
But unless all that study leads us to deeper convictions about how to live, it may be overrated.
We celebrate Christmas, in the progressive Christian tradition, because we know that all of us are in need of more compassion, grace, and the ability to forgive. We all need to let go of judgment and minimize hate in our lives. We celebrate Christmas not to prove a religious or theological point, but to live good news. What the Bible calls âgospel.â
It doesnât matter what you call yourself. A Christian, a Jesus follower, an ambiguous seeker of Light, or a confused mess. Even if I cared what you call yourself, Iâm quite certain God doesnât care. God doesnât care what you call yourself or what name you give to God either.
What really matters in this chaotic season is living with the wisdom, courage, guts and hope modeled by Jesus. We celebrate because the stories because they were born amidst crazy rulers, migrants looking for a home, natives who offered no place for a pregnant woman to rest. We celebrate a story that includes seekers â the bible calls them wise ones - who had to deceive the king so as to save the life of a child. Love was born of this. Courage was sharpened through this. Hope came alive in a new way in the deep darkness of such a time.
May Christmas inspire us even if the theological ruminations of belief bore or confuse us.
May something precious be born in each of us this season, something that makes us better people, better neighbors, better partners and lovers.
May something precious and powerful take root in us. May Christmas not be about an old story, but rather an old story born anew today in you and me.
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Summerâs small bounty of dried oregano and rosemary. The basil was made into pesto:) https://www.instagram.com/p/CWgkKHnvQv1S2n-8imGlaTxZpj5imS9AhTa-bY0/?utm_medium=tumblr
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Friar Truck rescuing free firewood once again:) (at Madison, Wisconsin) https://www.instagram.com/p/CWOHHiRL6cK4pYpu3ocT6zOl02Ei3yGfNVAaOY0/?utm_medium=tumblr
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Mysteries, Yes
Truly, we live with mysteries too marvelous
to be understood.
How grass can be nourishing in the
mouths of the lambs.
How rivers and stones are forever
in allegiance with gravity
while we ourselves dream of rising.
How two hands touch and the bonds
will never be broken.
How people come, from delight or the
scars of damage,
to the comfort of a poem.
Let me keep my distance, always, from those
who think they have the answers.
Let me keep company always with those who say
"Look!" and laugh in astonishment,
and bow their heads.
~ Mary Oliver ~
What is a mystery too marvelous to be understood in your life right now?
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We rememberâŚwe rememberâŚDaycholahâ (meaning Green Lake in the language of the Indigenous people known today as the Ho-Chunk) So began a ceremony to rename the UCCIâs Pilgrim Center Camp and Conference Center this week, as singer songwriter Bryan Sirchio led us in an opening invocation heâd written.  Call and response. Memory and history were woven together as a place we cherish was rededicated and refocused. Sacred to us, but sacred much longer to the Menomonie, Ojibwa, and Ho-Chunk Nations.  Ancient and holy. We remember that the property has burial mounds going back the Woodland people, coming to this land sometime around the 500 CE.  Honor and respect. We remember this spot as a gathering place, a place of community and justice, a place named Council Rock to our Ho-Chunk forebears.  Gather and listen. We remember the horrors of the Doctrine of Discovery, a Papal order than we never learned about in school, but that guided and shaped our actions and assumptions for 400 years.  Admit and repudiate I remember a beloved mentor, Ruth Ley, whose name graces the chapel that overlooks the beautiful Green Lake.  I remember sitting with her family as this place was dedicated many years ago, appreciating the way the natural light, the stunning trees and the wildlife informed and shaped walking the labyrinth in the carpet.  Dedicate and cherish. I remember Sara Thomsen singing a soul-searching song from her own her life to a group of 100 in that same chapel, looking for a sign and seeing an eagle.  Even as she sang, those of us listening watched another eagle fly by the chapel window.  Listen and notice.  I remember children running the frozen grounds and lake, doing what comes instinctively to them â diving on ice, throwing snow, laughing with wonder.  Play and enjoy. They remembered being here at camp in their youth decades ago.  With new buildings and upgrades, they for directions to find the old, outdoor chapel.  Native people who attended a camp called Pilgrim Center.  Nostalgia and Irony We remember so many promises by white people in so many places to do better, to be better.  Too often they are promises we donât remember.  Too often they are commitments we give up on when they are too hard.  Acknowledge and repent. Today we remembered our way towards a new future; possible because together we remembered.  We honored.  We sought common ground honestly and hopefully.  We remember Daycholah.  We are Daycholah.Â
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Longest Night Observance at ORUCC
5:30-7:00 Â Â -- Labyrinth Walk in the Friendship Hall
7:00 Â Â Â Â Â Â -- Â Service of the Longest Night in the sanctuary
See description to the left
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Spirit of Place: Great Blue Heron
Out of their loneliness for each other
two reeds, or maybe two shadows, lurch
forward and become suddenly a life
lifted from dawn or the rain. Â It is
the wilderness come back again, a lagoon
with our city reflected in its eye.
We live by faith in such presences.
It is a test for us, that thin
but real, undulating figure that promises,
"If you keep faith I will exist
at the edge, where your vision joins
the sunlight and the rain: heads in the light,
feet that go down in the mud where the truth is."
~ William Stafford ~
(on a plaque in Portland's City Hall, for Portland's city bird)
(The Way It Is)
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As we concluded our worship series, The Geography of Grace, in February, member Chris Thomas gifted the church with this lovely hanging depicting the many geographies of that series.  See âSermonsâ for sermons from that series.Â
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ORUCC Lenten Journal - Easter - Day 47
As we sat in our minivan outside an Olive Garden in Columbia, Missouri, Paul and I were anxious, excited, and overwhelmed. We knew we would meet Theoâs birth family when we walked through the door. Of course the dinner that night was a bit awkwardâhere we were, total strangers, and about to cross into the unknown together the next morning, when Theo would enter the world via C-section. But there were hugs and laughter, and sweet sentiments from the children in the group. Building a relationship with Theoâs birth family is one of the greatest experiences of grace Iâve ever had. Our two families have walked very different paths in this world. And yet, today we are irrevocably, wonderfully a family. Itâs amazing what can happen when weâre willing to overcome our fears and enter into the unknown. I pray that whatever uncertainty youâre facing, as you cross over the threshold, you will experience Godâs grace, comfort, and strength.
Jennifer Eggerling-Boeck, ORUCC
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ORUCC Lenten Journal -Â Day 46
We were driving 15 mph on an otherwise busy thoroughfare. Â Behind me was the hearse which carried the body of a dear man whose lifeblood stopped flowing just a few days before. Â Behind him was a line of cars, including one carrying his wife of 50 years and their 4 children. Â
The traffic kept flowing past us. Â They honored our orange âfuneralâ flags, but it was clear that most somewhere to go, something important to do, or some errand to run. Â I wanted the world to stop, to pay its respects. I wanted them to know the beauty of this dear man. Â I wanted the bustle of life to pause in honor of the familyâs grief. Â Or to at least acknowledge this threshold being crossed. Â
Within the family, of course, the cadence of life had changed. Â Maybe it had skipped a beat, maybe it changed pace, maybe itâs tone seemed more faint. Â He had been the center of their world. Â His passion a defining quality that kept them alive. Â In time, a new rhythm will return to their lives. Â Despite his physical absence, something of his passion will carry on with them, around them, within them. Â It is the way of grief, to straddle that threshold between what was, and what will be. Â It is my prayer that the presence of God will be even more real as they figure out what it means to honor this crossing. Â Â
Winton Boyd, ORUCC
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ORUCC Lenten Journal - Good Friday - Day 45
Prayer of a Pilgrim Who Struggles with the Journey
Pilgrim God, there is an exodus going on in my life â desert stretches, a vast land of questions. Â Inside my heart your promises tumble and turn. Â No pillar of cloud by day or fire by night that I can see. My heart hurts at leaving loved ones and so much of the security I have known. Â I try to give in to the stretching and the pain. Â It is hard, God, and I want to be settled, secure, safe and sure. Â And here I am feeling so full of pilgrimâs fear and anxiety.
O God of the journey, lift me up, press me against your cheek. Â Let your great love hold me and create a deep trust in me. Then set me down. Â God of the journey: Â take my hand in yours, and guide me ever so gently across the new territory of my life.
Joyce Rupp, Praying Our Goodbyes
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ORUCC Lenten Journal - Day 44 As Jesus was starting on his way again a man ran up, knelt before him and asked him, âGood Teacher, what must I do to receive eternal life?â
âŚJesus looked straight at him with love and said, âYou need only one thing.  Go and sell all you have and give the money to the poor, and you will have riches in heaven; then come and follow me.â   When the man heard this, gloom speed over his face, and he went away said, because he was very rich.
Mark 10
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ORUCC Lenten Journal - Day 43
Diving Board
Youâve been up on that diving board
Making sure that itâs nice and straight.
Youâve made sure that itâs not too slick.
Youâve made sure it can stand the weight.
Youâve made sure that the spring is tight.
Youâve made sure that the cloth wonât slip.
Youâve made sure that it bounces right,
And that your toes can get a gripâ
And youâve been up there since half past five
Doinâ everything . . . but DIVE.
-Shel Silverstein
Sound familiar? Weâve all been thereâŚweâve made a decision, weâve completed every possible preparation, and yet itâs still hard to take the plunge, whether itâs a literal or figurative one. Thereâs no other option but to trust that no matter what happens, God will be with you and then justâŚ.leap!
Jennifer Eggerling-Boeck, ORUCC
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ORUCC Lenten Journal - Day 42
Hiking over red sandstone as morning fog is lifting, occasionally unsure if I am still on the path. Â Winding from trailhead through gentle slopes, between pine and shrub to arrive at the base of the vertical spires of Cathedral Rock. Â The hike now becomes a climb and I welcome this junction as an invitation to play. Â Finding foot holes I pull myself up boulders, pausing to catch my breath, letting younger, more able bodied climbers pass, shedding layers as exertion and sunlight warm. Â Arriving at each plateau wondering âHow much farther?â, âAm I crazy?â, and âI canât turn back now!â Â Slowing down by centering while pressing on with determination, and then suddenly arriving. Â It takes a moment to comprehend, but then the very next moment is one of awareness, accomplishment, exhilaration, and gratitude. Â I stay for awhile lingering in the beauty. Â On one rock tokens are left behind by fellow seekers, and I understand. Â They say the reward is the view, but Iâm sure its something deeper. Â In time I turn my back, begin my climb down, grounded and soaring.
Kim Kaspar, ORUCC
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