First Presbyterian Church of Edgewood

This Week at Edgewood

9/17/2020

Pastoral E-Mail

Friends of the Edgewood Congregation,

We've had several instances over the past few months where folks have received odd messages from what appears to be Pastor Michael. As of this morning, his official "mprucker@fpcedgewood.org" email address has been deleted. So, unless you get a message from his personal gmail account (click on the name in the "from" section so see if the email address is actually him), assume it's fake. You will never get a request for gift cards from Michael!

This Sunday, September 20

This week, we welcome back to our pulpit the Rev. Kellie Weekley-Mills. She will preach from the Book of Job and Mark's gospel in a sermon titled "Let Us Cross to the Other Side."

As we've done for the past several weeks, those who feel safe and healthy enough to do so are invited to join us in the sanctuary at 11:00AM following our established safety and distancing protocols. We will broadcast the live stream on our Facebook page in real time, and the edited video will be posted to YouTube by Monday morning.

Here is the bulletin for this week's service for anyone watching on Facebook to follow along with the hymns and responses.

Virtual CROP Walk

Walk. Give. Change the world.

Our community believes in ending hunger. And, in 2020, we will continue to fight against the new challenges of disease and disaster that leave people hungry. Join with us in raising funds to help neighbors near and far get the meals they need this year.

Walkers have reported $4,645 in online and offline gifts!

Find more details here.

2020 Pittsburgh East VIRTUAL CROP Hunger Walk

The CROP Hunger Walk may be Virtual, but the need could not be more real. Join with others from the Pittsburgh East CROP Hunger Walk as together we walk to end hunger and poverty here in the East End of Pittsburgh and around the world!

You can make your donation online by clicking the button below. Search for the Edgewood team or you can support Judy as an individual walker to make sure the donation counts for FPCE!

CLICK HERE TO CONTRIBUTE ONLINE

Newsletter Deadline

It's already time to think about the October newsletter. If you have items you would like to include (good news, bad news, updates, meetings, etc.), please email it to Judy by September 25 so we can work on it to have mailed out and in your homes by October 1.

No more shame, no more fear

This article was posted to the Presbyterian Outlook blog yesterday and I think does a nice job of capturing what many of us are feeling about life in general and how we are supposed to continue on in our own lives and as Christians. It is written by JOSHUA MUSSER GRITTER, who co-pastors First Presbyterian Church in Salisbury, North Carolina, with his wife Lara. They watch movies together with their dog Red.

Admittedly it's a little on the long side, but I think worth the read.

See you in worship -- in person or online!

Peace,

Shaun

No more shame, no more fear

September 16, 2020 by Joshua Gritter

For me, middle school was a complete crapshoot.

There were bullies, puberty and that sweeping awkwardness accompanying all social interactions. I am pretty sure middle school is the place where you gain all the painful memories that you go to counseling for in your 30s. Middle school was also the time when I loved the band Creed — not all wounds are created equal.

Beyond the first kiss, first sip of alcohol and unrelenting quest for coolness, there is one moment from those days that I remember with an odd salience. The memory concerns my churlish seventh grade math teacher. He was somewhere between Severus Snape and Attila the Hun. (Well, at least to my young imagination.) Two months after the societal rupturing of 9/11, this teacher stood in front of a group of oddly quiet teenagers and said, “You are who you are when you stand in the road, naked in the middle of the night.” You can guess what came next. That kid who had learned the art of classroom humor as a way to disguise his insecurity about being the smallest kid in the class blurted out, “He said naked!” We all cackled and hummed. In the moment I thought that my math teacher had finally lost his evil marbles. What a weird thing to say!

I’ve thought of this memory several times during this pandemic. You are who you are when you are naked, standing in the road in the middle of the night. Though he was off with his delivery and timing, I think my math teacher was asking the existential question of our days: When everything is stripped away, when the branches of your life are bare and the womb of normalcy barren, who are you? To frame it biblically: When we have hung up our harps in the trees of Babylon, when our couch is drenched in tears, when change erupts and irrupts our sense of self and security, what is left?

This existential question is a deeply theological, pastoral question. I’m involved in several pastor support groups, and have some beloved spiritual friends who are in ministry as well. The common thread weaving through the anxious mosaic of ministry in this time is the fact that everyone is struggling, everyone is suffering in some way. In many ways we spend much of our pastoral energy dealing with the symptoms of this struggle. Our inboxes are filled with the words of angry church members — some say we haven’t opened early enough, some say we’re opening too early, and some haven’t been to church since March (which also hurts our feelings if we’re honest). People fight about masks or no masks, schoolchildren have become objects of liberal vs. conservative debate and all of us feel somewhat stoic after our numbing agents of alcohol and Netflix have ceased to bring joy. Resentment for the people we are called to love creeps in, fatigue disguises itself as righteous indignation and the pulpit becomes a boxing ring. These days it feels as if everything has been stripped away. We are, as an entire society, standing naked in the road in the middle of the night.

I am less interested in the symptoms of societal upheaval than in the underlying currents of our pain. What’s the answer to who are we, really? People aren’t really that passionate about wearing a mask or not, being in schools or not, worshipping in person or not. While these are significant issues, these conversations and debates are rooted in the emotions all human beings share — namely fear and shame. The opposite of love is not hate, it is fear. The opposite of beloved community is not individualism, it is tribalism. The opposite of empathy isn’t selfishness, it is shame.

We don’t feel lonely right now because we aren’t seeing one another, we feel lonely because we are afraid. Fear begets a smaller and smaller world until all that is left is one’s own worldview — a crushing individualism that isolates us from sources of love. Fear asks us to live in an unnuanced world of absolutes — of evil vs. good, black vs. white. This is the world where people post videos on Facebook of people misbehaving at department stores. This is the world where quality of persons is defined by one moment, one mistake, one grave sin — be it a racial epithet, refusal to wear a mask at Costco or a reshare of a ridiculous article from a news agency you despise. Fear doesn’t make us hide from sharing our opinions, rather it makes us more certain that our opinions are the right ones. As a pastor and a person, I see in myself and others a dangerous fear that is tearing us apart, quite literally from the inside out. Theologically the answer to this fear is not screaming “do not be afraid” from the pulpit. Tell afraid people to stop being afraid and all you will get is shame on top of fear, and that combustive combination is a recipe for depression and anxiety.

Perhaps fear’s vaccine is friendship amidst vulnerability. Brené Brown’s awesome book “Dare to Lead” suggests that vulnerability beats the crap out of fear, one shared emotional experience at a time. When I was a child, scared of the creatures of the night and hiding under my covers, my father would kill my fear not by shutting the door and saying “grow up,” but by climbing under the covers with me. “I get scared, too,” he would say. While our church programs are obliterated and our congregants are roaring, maybe we pastors need to practice courage as vulnerability. Maybe then we have a shot at pushing away the fear that stalks us in the middle of the night. This practice begins when we simply listen to our life and ask, “What’s really going on within me?” And though we can’t ever know the answer fully, the psalmist reminds us that God knows us in our inward parts and Paul reminds us that our life is “hidden” in Christ. As long as God is under the covers with me, I’ll make it through the night.

Fear’s best pal is shame. These two hang out together, buy one another drinks at the bar and grow up together like siblings in the same house. Brown says that the difference between shame and guilt is that while guilt says, “I did a bad thing,” shame says, “I am bad.” Guilt questions our moral actions, but shame doubts our inherent dignity. This terrible minion, shame, is haunting our current moment. It is often thought that narcissists are the most self-consumed, self-obsessed among us. But it is likely they are actually the most ashamed among us, because the more shame we feel, the less empathy we can feel for others. It’s commonplace for people to say, “We’re just so politically polarized.” Sure, that’s true. But get to the deeper stuff and you’ll likely find that we are more ashamed than ever. Disunity doesn’t produce shame, shame produces disunity. Shame is like an internal wound-tornado — everything that tries to get close gets spun around and thrown violently away. The tricky part here is that the rhetorical ammo used in arguments these days is shame more than anything else. I am so completely unsurprised when a 75-year-old Southern born white man who grew up poor and from a small town gets angry and rigid when a young liberal from the city tells them on Facebook that they are racist. It’s impossible for shame to beget empathy. If you can name one person who’s been shamed into a worldview change, I’ll give you a hundred bucks.

What are we to do when we are feel ashamed, naked and wondering in the middle of the road at night? Shame’s vaccine is empathy — the judgement-free spirit entering into another’s story of suffering. As much as woke culture hates to admit it, all of us suffer. And yes, certain suffering is bigger and worse than others. Systemic racism is worse than my middle school wounds, but I’m not sure I can become anti-racist without learning to love my own woundedness. It is untrue that because some people suffer worse, the small sufferings of some don’t matter. Paul didn’t say, “Jesus came for those who suffer the most, so who cares about the rest?” He said, “While we were yet sinners Christ died for us.” In other words, while we were completely lost and covered in shame, God took on the flesh of our human story.

The incarnation is the God of history choosing our story as God’s story, which means more than anything God is an empathetic God. To overcome the alienation we feel from one another, we may have to holster our weaponized shame and dare to believe that everyone – our enemies included – are suffering right now. Brown says there’s no such thing as limited empathy, which means that the more empathy there is in the world, the less shame there is in the world. To those of us who say, “I just can’t make a difference right now,” how does emptying the world of shame sound?

I’ve started to see the truth of this in my own life. There are times that I could burst from all the pressure we pastors currently feel from our congregants — and from ourselves. But when I get angry, dismissive, tired and petty, I must admit that shame is at work. And I have begun to find, bit by bit, that the more I understand the suffering of my people and the more I befriend my own suffering, the less chance shame has to rule my life.

So, I begin to answer my teacher’s lifelong question: “Who are we when we are naked and standing in the middle of the road at night?” The answer — we are not alone, our suffering matters. As one of the credal statements of our denomination might put it, “In life and in death, in shame and in fear, we belong to our lord and savior Jesus Christ.”

"Anything But" Ordinary Time

9/10/2020

Sad News

Friends and Family of FPCE,

I'm saddened to share that we've received word that Charles "Chuck" Ganster, companion of Marilyn Lobert and fan of Sunny's piano playing, has passed away. It apparently happened within the past few weeks and was a result of COVID-19. Rick and Pastor Michael have been in touch with Marilyn, who is grieving deeply. Our thoughts and prayers are with Marilyn, and the members of Chuck's family on their loss.

* * * * *

The season after Pentecost in the church year that runs all the way until the beginning of Advent in December is called "Ordinary Time." An article in the most recent issue of Presbyterians Today magazine discusses how in our lives these days, nothing is what would be considered "ordinary." The author offers some suggestions for how to remain hopeful and optimistic in what she refers to as "anything but" ordinary time. I've copied it below (if you click the title, it links to the original article page). I hope you find it meaningful.

See you in church -- in person or online -- on Sunday (or Monday!).

Shaun

‘Anything But’ Ordinary Time calls for radical faith

A new liturgical season emerges

By Kathleen Long Bostrom | Presbyterians Today

September is usually the month when we settle back into our routines. Beach umbrellas are replaced by school buses speckling the roadway. Parents scramble to get kids out the door to school. Churches, too, gear up for rally days. But not this year.

As 2020 began — and at the first ragged, painful cough — the world found itself navigating an unprecedented journey that introduced phrases such as “sheltering in place” and “social distancing.” By early summer, as communities began emerging from isolation, protests pushed COVID-19 from the limelight. People joined in outrage, horrified by the brutal death of George Floyd, an African American man pinned to the ground pleading for his life. This year has become “The Year of Tragical Thinking” and has ushered in a new season in the liturgical calendar — “Anything But” Ordinary Time.

Traditionally, the season of Ordinary Time runs till the Saturday before the first Sunday of Advent. It is a season to discover God in the daily rhythm of our lives. But daily rhythms seem hard to come by lately, and “Anything But” Ordinary Time has put us on an unending road trip with no detailed timeline letting us know when we’ll be safely home again. What we do have, though, are the lectionary readings from Exodus for September and October that recall another unprecedented trip — the one the Hebrews took from Egypt to Canaan. The Hebrews lived in slavery for 400 years, their identity shattered, their freedom long forgotten. Moses whisks them from the only life they have known and sends them skedaddling into a foreign land where they wander for an entire generation. They are homeless, frightened and threatened, and have no way of knowing when their journey will end. They are only a few miles — and months — into the journey when the people start to whine like a carload of kids on a trip. They even become nostalgic for the “normalcy” of slavery when they reminisce about pots of meat and bread, putting a shining patina on what was in actuality a life of suffering and starvation. Slavery? Normal? Not in God’s eyes.

In this season, we also have World Communion Sunday, which falls on Oct. 4. The emphasis on being united with Christians around the world has particular significance in 2020. The pandemic of COVID-19 has unfurled like an 11th plague, and nobody has been spared the effects. The world seems to have awakened to the blatant inequality between different colors of human beings. And yet we are reminded in the breaking of the bread that Jesus welcomes all people — equally. “This is my body,” Jesus said, not “broken for a few,” but broken for everyone.

We are still on an unending road trip. We’re not there yet, but there is no going back to the way things were, no more than it was possible for the Hebrews to return to Egypt. Ordinary and normal are no more. Maybe it’s time that we embraced that truth. Let us allow “Anything But” Ordinary Time to open our eyes, helping us recognize that nobody is exempt from a pandemic, and that inequality and injustice won’t go away unless we all make that happen. The journey has begun, and we must keep moving forward until we are finally home.

Kathleen Long Bostrom is a retired PC(USA) minister and the author of over 50 books, most of them picture books for children.

Living in ‘Anything But’ Ordinary Time

Look up — literally. Notice the clouds, the color of the sky and the constellations. Gazing in a new direction can restore us, reminding us that there’s a larger Creation out there.
Look around. During the early months of isolation in 2020, small acts of kindness were on display. Children left chalk drawings on sidewalks. People hung cutout hearts in windows for all who passed by. Keep these acts of kindness going, finding ways to be anonymous bearers of kindness and hope.
Look out for one another. Remember others throughout the world who are suffering. In preparation for World Communion Sunday, write names on index cards to post on a church bulletin board or share online. Post some blank cards as a reminder to pray for the nameless, too.

Come, Labor On

9/7/2020

Come, Labor On

Happy Labor Day to All,

The Presbyterian Church (USA) posted the following on its social media outlets in honor of Labor Day today:

"Just as Jesus worked in his day to the fullest, let us continue to work for equity and equality for all."

For your enjoyment:

The Tabernacle Choir and Orchestra at Temple Square (formerly the Mormon Tabernacle Choir) perform "Come, Labor On" by T. Tertius Noble, with arrangement by Ryan Murphy.

Episode 4598. Aired October 29, 2017.

Season of Peace: September 6-October 4, 2020

As we move through the next month of uncertainty, I encourage you to consider participating in the "Season of Peace" program offered by our national denomination. There are several more resources included on the main page that you may choose to join, but I wanted to point out the daily reflections that you can have emailed to you every morning, or that you can download all at once to print out and read. Here is the introductory information from the website.

Shaun

To view the full site with all resources and information, click here.

Welcome to the 2020 Season of Peace! This four-week pilgrimage is designed to deepen the pursuit of peace for congregations, small groups, families, and individuals. Through daily “Path of Peace” reflections, “Peace Cards” for children and families, Bible and book studies for adults, children’s curriculum, a coloring poster, an intergenerational peace fair, and other downloadable resources, Participants are invited to define and deepen their calling as peacemakers. This season is a time of encouragement, challenge, inspiration, and education.

While these resources are designed to culminate in the Peace & Global Witness Offering, they are appropriate for any time of the year. This year’s theme returns to a text that the Presbyterian Peacemaking Program has used for a number of years to guide its work. It is the concluding hope of the second letter to the Thessalonians: “May the God of peace grant you peace at all times in all ways.” (2 Thessalonians 3:16) It is our hope that you will be enriched, renewed and enlivened in all the times and ways of your peacemaking and global witness.

Path of Peace Daily Reflections

This year’s A Season of Peace Resources are designed to help participants explore practices for building peace on every scale. From the personal level to global issues, these reflections and prayers will help grow the faith and witness of the whole church. Throughout the 29 days of this year’s Season of Peace, we are invited to reflect upon ways to practice:

Week 1 September 6-12: Peace Within
Week 2 September 13-19: Peace in Relationships
Week 3 September 20-26: Peace in Community
Week 4 September 27-October 4: Wholistic Peace

You have the option of subscribing to these reflections for daily delivery into your inbox or printing the entire collection as a devotional resource. Many thanks to Henry Stone for serving as editor of the 2020 Path of Peace Reflections and to the outstanding team of contributing writers.

Subscribe to daily reflections that will be delivered directly to your inbox September 6 – October 4.

Download the complete 2020 Path of Peace Reflections

The Prayer at the end of today's peacemaking reflection:

Eternal, all-knowing one, you see that our hearts are restless and our spirits refuse stillness. You long for us to savor rest in your presence. Let us find the courage to be still in your grace. Let us dare to find peace within ourselves as a step on the path of peacemaking in your world. Amen.

September 6 Worship Video Now Posted

On the 14th Sunday after Pentecost, we shared in the sacrament of the Lord's Supper. The Rev. Dr. Dan Merry led our worship this week in an energetic service full of a great message and uplifting music. In addition to the livestream video posted on our Facebook page, the edited video is available on YouTube and audio only on our SoundCloud channel.

Depending on when you read this email, the video may not be finished processing on YouTube. It takes about an hour after I upload it to display properly, and about an hour after that to show in high definition.

Bulletin PDF:

https://www.fpcedgewood.org/uploads/2/3/8/3/23831749/september_6_-_pentecost_14b.pdf

SoundCloud audio only:

https://soundcloud.com/fpcedgewood/september-6-2020-online-worship

YouTube video:

https://youtu.be/pfx57DAW7B0

You Can Find Hope

9/2/2020

YOU CAN FIND HOPE IN ALL THE PLACES YOU NEVER DREAMED YOU COULD

I've shared with you the devotion site thepracticeco.com before. This week, they began a new series focusing on hope. Here is the entry from August 31 for you to contemplate.

Peace,
Shaun

"Hope is not an emotion; it's a cognitive thinking approach. It's how we think. And it is 100% teachable."
Brené Brown

You will find hope in all the places you never dreamed you would; in all the places you were told hope could never be found; in all the chaos and grit and uncertainty; hope lives on, true and strong and glowing.

These are strange times, and you are right to ask if hope can stay alive amid global pandemics, and gritty election seasons on which seems to hang the balance of everything good and true; and unjust systems of oppression that refuse to heed the stories and protests of those who have been under the boot of empire and colonialism; and all the other nuanced and complex traumas and heartaches the world over.

Yet still, hope endures.

First, remember this: hope is not an emotion, or a fairy tale, or a warm good feeling. Hope is not some whimsical idea of optimism or plastic practice of toxic positivity.

In an interview with Oprah, Brenè Brown said:
"Hope is not an emotion; it's a cognitive thinking approach. It's how we think. And it is 100% teachable." (She also talks about this in her book, "The Gifts of Imperfection.")

Hope is learnable, and life is always offering the lesson.

She went on to say, "Hope is a function of struggle. People with the highest hopefulness have the knowledge that they can move through adversity. When we take adversity from our children, we diminish their capacity for hope." (she talks more about this in her book "Daring Greatly.")

Hope is a function of struggle.

Tolkien said:
"Oft hope is born when all is forlorn."

Hope is something that is forged within you. It's a state of being. It's how you move through the world. It comes about when you allow the suffering you've been through, or that you're in, to transform you. Hope is the gutsy metal deep in your bones that moves you through struggle, challenge, hardship, monotony, global pandemics, racial injustice, crazy political climates, inequality, the dehumanisation of others, and more.

Hope is the depth within you that witnesses your life and the world, and echoes the sentiments of Emily Dickinson:
"I dwell in possibility."

Hope reaches beyond this moment in such a way as to help us move through it.

Hope is born of promise. Every new shoot of green from the ground is a promise that life can come from the grave of the dirt. Every morning, as the earth completes another cycle around the sun, those first rays of light are the promise that time keeps moving, and new days keep being born. Even the darkness carries the promise of the stars and the galaxies and the moon. A newborn baby is the promise that God believes in us, still.

The book of Jeremiah reads:
"Watch for this: The time is coming'—God's Decree—when I will keep the promise I made to the families of Israel and Judah. When that time comes, I will make a fresh and true shoot sprout from the David-Tree. He will run this country honestly and fairly. He will set things right."*

Many believe this to be a prophecy about the literal coming of Christ. And perhaps it was, even though from this side of history we can see that the promise didn't unfold the way many expected it too.

That's the thing with hope: it's a belief that something is on its way. But you can't pin it down, or accurately articulate it. You can only dwell in the possibility of whatever it will end up being. You have to hold the tension of seeing something that can't be seen.

So dear friend, what are you hoping for? That your struggle would cease? Or that in this time of waiting, it would birth within you resilience, capacity, and strength that only ever comes from choosing to believe that there is more for you in this moment, and even beyond it.

Whatever the season you're in, it is for you. Let it speak, let it tell you its secrets, let it whisper its promises to you, let it light up your way.

Mindful Prompt:
Instead of closing your eyes, sighing, and asking "What now, why now," open your heart and ask "what if, what next?" Dwell in the wild possibility of hope no matter what comes your way, not in spite of where you are, but because of it. Hope has no geographical or situational bias. It is with you through it all.

Written by Liz Milani
Instagram: @thepracticeco

Return to Sunday Mornings Postcard

8/30/2020

God is With Us

8/27/2020

Good Morning FPCE Family,

I write to you from my desk at school in one of the most bizarre beginnings of the year I've ever experienced. This is my 3rd first day of school this week, as 25% of our students attend for one in-person day to receive their iPads, classroom materials, Google Classroom codes, and any other items they may need for virtual instruction that begins Monday. By the end of this week, I will have given my "welcome to choir" speech 16 times, and "welcome to music theory" 8 times. I'm starting to get bored with myself!

The Presbyterian Outlook magazine blog entry from a week or so ago speaks to this frustration about how we move ahead. Many of you have a child in your life -- son, daughter, niece, nephew, grandchildren, family friends -- that are about to begin any number of ways for a new school year. The author of the article provides some hope and comfort, and I share it with you today.

Peace,
Shaun

A word for weary parents: God is with us in the pandemic
August 12, 2020 by Rebecca Gresham-Kesner Leave a Comment

This summer we have instituted the Friday Funday breakfast picnic.

Typical summers, my daughter and I are both off on Friday and we have Friday Funday — because, let’s be honest, Sunday Funday doesn’t work when mom is the pastor.

This year, like most of you, we are finding new ways to have fun. She is a nature lover, so we have been exploring different places while we eat breakfast and I hear all about what happens in her mind. We have baked muffins. We have traveled dirt roads I did not know my car could handle, and now have a hiking bag to take with us full of useful stuff. I sometimes post pictures of our adventures, and recently a friend commented, “You have the most fun adventures!” Pandemic be damned, I will be making memories with this beloved child of mine all summer long. It gives us a sense of normalcy. Yet, what I didn’t post after our latest adventure, was that on the way home we decided to listen to a Christmas CD and had Christmas in July — in pandemic time there are no rules about such things. This led to a conversation about missing Grandma (my mom), who is currently living in Florida. I said: “I regret standing in line to buy dog food on March 13. I should have gone down to get her.” We hatched a plan: The moment the number of COVID 19 cases in Florida dip, we will drop everything and go get Grandma and keep her with us forever. It was a fanciful way of dealing with our collective grief about no Grandma visit this summer and the likelihood that even in December we won’t be hugging her.

Our adventures serve as a great distraction from the pain in the world right now. They are a few hours each week where we don’t have to worry about masks, social distance or a pandemic. For me it is a few minutes to forget about all the impossible decisions I have to make as a parent and pastor in the foreseeable future. For months now, I have been working with church leaders to make a plan for when we can reopen our building. The constantly changing recommendations and illness numbers have made this task feel insurmountable. We have had to ask hard questions about what church might feel like if we return and cannot sing. And: How do we partake in communion if we have to have masks over our mouths? What if someone gets sick? This experience of leading alongside my elders has given me compassion for everyone who has to make hard decisions in regard to safely reopening anything.

My focus on making memories comes from a place of pain in my own coming of age. Just before my father turned 40, he was diagnosed with a disease “men didn’t get,” and he died about 10 years later after a long struggle. Through those 10 years, I clung to happy memories, and I still do. This has certainly affected how I parent. I am always up for making memories — be it breakfast picnics or water balloon fights or reading together. My zest for adventure comes from the truth I have known since I was 8 years old: It can change in a moment. What is easy today can be hard tomorrow.

Why do I tell you all this?

Well it is because we are in the throes of making impossible decisions about reopening church buildings. It is because the news is a political firestorm of if and when our children can go back to school and go back safely. Just last week our school district sent out a survey outlining three options: a hybrid of in-person and online instruction, online only instruction, or homeschooling. I can have compassion for the school district leaders as they offer us three less than ideal options. There is no good solution; nothing can get us back to where we were on March 1. There is no way to meet the needs of every child and parent. It is a complete no-win situation. While I am frustrated at three impractical choices, I understand there isn’t a fourth solution that makes everything better. I also understand that the fact that I get options and can make a choice is a tremendous privilege that not many parents have. It is an impossible decision. Not one of these options is ideal for working parents.

Next, can we talk about economic disparities? In our home we will have to make one of these options work and we are in a place where we can make that happen and keep food on the table. I do not believe this is true for many parents. There are hundreds more “what if?” scenarios and unimaginable decisions to make. My other concern is that we keep hearing “children don’t get this, and children don’t die from this” (teachers and staff, I see you and I value you too). Those statements are both untrue, children can get COVID-19 and they can die from complications. Yes, it is a very low percentage, but in my book one child dying is one too many.
I’ve been flirting with turning 40 this year — and as I do, I am remembering and looking forward. I have often pondered my own mortality; I wonder if we have made enough memories to sustain my dear child through a lifetime should I perish in the next 10 years. But now, as I am forced to make decisions about school, I have thought about that beautiful young woman’s mortality. My tremendous love for my child does not make her immortal. Ash to ash and dust to dust, no one is immune. Somehow in pondering my own mortality, knowing that “in life and in death we belong to God” is a great comfort. This is not the case when I consider her mortality (or that of any child). The uncomfortable truth is that children die.

This is perhaps the underlying truth in what is wearing all of us down these days. We are mortal, our parents are mortal, our children are mortal. Six months ago, we were making decisions based on if our budgets could accommodate a trip to the movies. We thought nothing of being in a building with other people. We made everyday decisions that involved some risk – like driving in a car or swimming in the ocean – with ease. Now we face bigger decisions about if we should send our children back to school and if we should reopen our church buildings. And in the back of our heads, with every decision we make, COVID-19 and its ability to take lives is lingering. The exhausting thing is that it is in our everyday small decisions too: Do we sign up for Girl Scouts this year? What do we do about the summer camps that are still open? How about sports? Is it worth it to go into a store to get an item that would make life easier? How about a small outdoor gathering? Is it safe to visit my sister? Do I hug my aunt at my uncle’s funeral? My throat kind of hurts today, is it COVID-19? Wait — was I exposed?

I am exhausted (and I bet you are, too). I have been working from home since March and trying to do online school, followed by being “camp mom” during these summer months. I come at this with a decent amount of privilege and enough resources to make slime, moon sand and tie dye. Yet, I long for anything that feels like the old normal — to make a decision based on if my budget can accommodate something rather than if the calculated risk of leaving the house is worth it. All the while, I carry with me my own life experience of watching someone I love suffer with a disease they “couldn’t” get. I desperately want to believe my child is safe and protected from this by virtue of her age, but I have already lived through one statistical anomaly and I will do anything to avoid living through that again.

Being a faith leader, I feel like I should have some answers, some wisdom to add to the conversation, or at the very least be a non-anxious presence. In the absence of answers here is what I have. I believe in all things we are loved deeply by God and that God is with us on our best days and on our worst days. I believe when I am anxious about decisions, when I am fearful about what happens next, when I break down in tears because I am absolutely overwhelmed, God is with me. I know that going to school is safer than staying home for some children. I know that teaching in schools is the only choice some parents have. I know that some parents do not have a choice at all. I know we are all experiencing various levels of strain on our mental health. I know that we are called by God into loving community. We are capable of living into that call in these most difficult times. Loving community means we are going to work together to see our way through this. We will not let insecurity about our own decision-making reduce us to judging other people’s decisions about education or opening church buildings. We are called to support the single parent who has no choice but to send their kids to school and to support the parent who opts to homeschool.

Every day I ask: How are we supposed to manage this? Working and doing school/camp at home? The answer lies in that call to community. Community looks different now, but there is no reason we can’t support each other in making the gut-wrenching decisions that lie ahead. We can love each other and support each other even if we cannot hug each other. Let us remember in all things our call is to love one another and trust that God is with us in every moment of our pandemic ravaged lives.

REBECCA GRESHAM-KESNER is pastor at Faith Presbyterian Church in Medford, New Jersey. Outside of church and family life, you can find her in nature, finding fun ways to be creative or asking awkwardly deep questions of people she just met.

This Week - Recording, Newsletter, Upper Room

8/21/2020

Happy Friday, FPCE Family!

Several announcements for you this morning:

We will record Sunday's worship service this afternoon at 4:00PM. If you would like to join, please use the East Swissvale Avenue entrance, wear a mask, and sit socially distanced in the back half of the sanctuary. We will have a bulletin available with all parts of worship included so that you don't need to touch a bible or hymnal (and we won't have to wipe them down!). The Rev. Carol Divens Roth joins us again this week and next week as our guest pastor.
We're going to test out our Facebook Live connection this afternoon. While we record, I'm going to connect the camera to our Facebook page to see how well it broadcasts. So, if you happen to be at home around 4:00pm and on Facebook, you may get a notification that FPCE has "gone live" and you can watch the video in real time as we record. Baby steps, but we're slowly getting to being able to do a live stream of the service! We also hope to have news about moving to Sunday mornings in the very near future.
Monday is the deadline for the September issue of the newsletter. If you have something you would like to include -- and if you have news you'd like to share about yourself or your family -- please send it to Judy at office@fpcedgewood.org so that she can compile it for when she and I work on the file together.
Those of you who are subscribers and fans of The Upper Room devotional will recall hearing an announcement about online access. The September/October issue became available to us as a PDF, and that file is attached to this email for you to save to your device and read at your leisure.
Speaking of The Upper Room, while I was online last night downloading the file, I pulled up the daily devotion and thought I would share yesterday's inspiration with you. Enjoy!

Peace,
Shaun

=======================
THUR, AUG 20, 2020

Thought for the Day
God can make me new every morning.
I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.
— John 10:10 (NIV)

By late winter most of us have had enough of seeing bare, lifeless branches. Judging by the bigger picture, the color, warmth, and vibrance of spring seem far off. But if we go out into the garden and look at the smaller picture, we can see the beginnings of tiny shoots and the earliest signs of new life. Something is happening after all.

Sometimes our lives are a bit like that. We feel much the same and look the same from a distance, but up close God is at work in us — creating small changes. Little by little, God clothes us in more gifts and more love. We may summon up the courage to try something new. Often when we take that risk, we are surprised by the gifts that God has placed within us. We find that we are better at doing something than we thought we might be.

As we accept and enjoy these small changes, we sense God’s love flourishing within us. Just as the first signs of spring are beginning to show in the garden, so God’s spiritual gifts are taking root deep within us.

Prayer:
Living Lord, thank you for the new growth within us. Help us to trust your presence within us as we risk doing new things for you. Amen.

Meg Mangan (New South Wales, Australia)

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Each Day is a Gift

8/18/2020

Happy Tuesday FPCE Family,

A month or so ago, I shared with you the d365.org devotional site, which is primarily focused on younger Christians like college students. Given that most of our schools are starting back up in some form or another (I'm sitting at my desk in my office at school now!), I thought it was worth going back to the site to see what reflections they were offering for us. You'll recall that their format is short, simple reflections broken up into 5 actions: pause, listen, think, pray, go. Here is Sunday's entry, titled "Blessing of the Student Planner:"
pause
The Lord your God is with you.
God’s Spirit goes before you as you listen, think, and respond.

listen
Therefore, stop worrying about tomorrow, because tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.
-- Matthew 6:34

think
One of the big changes that the current pandemic has brought about is the shift from existing in an ever-changing group of people (like at school – different classes, groups, clusters of people) to being in a much smaller circle. Sociologists have been saying that we are spending much more time in our own heads. Without the distraction of other voices, environments, and interactions, we are forced to be more on our own – with only our own sights, sounds, ponderings, and outcomes. This might be a dream come true for you. Or this might be the greatest challenge of your life.

Regardless of whether this “time in your own head” is a positive or negative experience, you have TODAY. In your own head you can imagine what your day can be. You can let your dreams and hopes parade across your mind’s eye with time you might never have again!

Not worrying about tomorrow allows you to see what you and God can do today. Each day may have trouble of its own, but each day is a gift. And it sits there… in your mind.

Gina Yeager-Buckley

pray
God, I may or not have a plan for today, but let me focus on today. Let me stop and examine the possibilities for living that come with today’s hours. Today’s possibilities might lead me to quiet discoveries or important and significant changes in my life. Today’s plans might change completely! But I will be with you, God. I am here, and you are here. With all of the tools you’ve given me – to understand, comprehend, dream, plan, think, examine – I will use them for you. Amen.

go
Taking today’s moments into your breath, your heart, your hands and feet,
live what you hear from God today,
and tomorrow.

Hope you can take time to enjoy TODAY.

Peace,
Shaun

Food Distribution

8/15/2020

FPCE just received a phone call from Edgewood Fire Department telling us about a food distribution they are sponsoring on Saturday, August 29 from 10AM until they don’t have any left.
Location: Edgewood Towne Centre by Scene 75. Pass on to whomever might be interested/in need.
Thanks,
Judy Mysels

P.S. They will also be parking in our lots tomorrow night, August 15 when they hold their Pasta Drive Thru Dinner – please support our local fire department if you can. Below is article from our latest newsletter…

Typically, this month you would see calls for volunteers to help us work the FPCE booth at the annual Edgewood Community Day celebration. For obvious reasons, this year Community Day will not take place in person. However, the Edgewood Volunteer Fire Department invites you to a “drive-thru” pasta dinner, Saturday, August 15th, from 2pm-7pm! Enjoy a night off from cooking, while supporting the EVFD!

In lieu of our famous Community Day chicken & rib dinners this year, we will instead be hosting a “socially distant” pasta dinner. Stay in your car and drive through the fire station on Race Street! $10 per dinner. Each dinner includes rigatoni with red sauce, salad, roll, & choice of drink (sauce optional). Baked goods will also be available for sale, priced between $1-10. Payments can be made electronically using a credit card, Apple Pay or Google Pay.

Free delivery available for more than 5 dinners ordered by calling Steve at (412) 901-3096.

Friday Time Change

8/12/2020

Friday's recording time has been moved to 4:00PM. I officially start back at North Hills tomorrow for what is sure to be the most unique year of my teaching career with variations of virtual, hybrid, and in person teaching over the next few months. So that I can make it across town and have everything set up, I asked everyone involved in the worship service to come later in the day. This will likely be the schedule for the next few weeks. So if you are planning to join us in the back of the sanctuary for worship when we record, plan to arrive for 4:00PM, not 1:00. Thanks for accommodating me!

Shaun