The good people of Exeter United Methodist Church celebrated Christmas last Sunday, July 30th. It was a beautiful service. The bulletin bore a nativity scene on the cover, with shepherds and angels and wise men surrounding the holy family under the signal star. We sang “O Come All Ye Faithful,” “Hark the Herald Angels Sing,” “Go Tell It On The Mountain,” and “Joy to the World.” The children lighted a pint-sized Christmas tree, and in his sermon, Pastor Mark Smith excitedly ripped the ribbon and wrapping paper from a box, the forgotten present under the Christmas tree, the gift of faith. “Be like little children with that gift,” he encouraged us, demonstrating the idea beautifully.
I was grateful that I listened to my
inner adult that morning and took myself to their church. It was the perfect antidote to last week’s
toxic news. Between a truckload of dead
immigrants from south of the border discovered in a Texas Walmart parking lot, the
political MADness in Washington over healthcare, and North Korea’s ICBM, my
faith account was overdrawn. Being among
people of faith celebrating their creation story was cleansing.
I also learned that this coming
Sunday, the 6th is the day I
get to fill in for Mark, not the 13th like I thought. Although the fewer days for preparation might
seem like an inconvenience, the timing couldn’t be better, because the message
I want to bring is about the work of Christmas.
Now we can have Epiphany in August!
My epiphany occurred back in April,
a day or so before I ran into Rod Capps at RN Market. “What are you up to these days?” he
asked. “I just discovered I want to
preach the Gospel according to John – John Pitney,” I said boldly, surprised at
the words that came out of my mouth. “I
have some pulpit vacancies I want to fill,” he said, getting out his
calendar. And here we are.
Now, I’ve preached the Gospel of JP
here in this column many times. He’s the
Methodist minister songwriter from Oregon whose body of work on land, the
church, and the common good allowed me to see the faith dimension in my
socio-economic research on agricultural communities. His songs buttress me as I drive around our
region, watching almonds replace stone fruit and vineyards, watching mandarins
replace navels and valencias, watching small towns erode and small farms
disappear. They buttress me in my
belief that we can find a better way to produce food and an economy, a better relationship between ourselves and
land which will produce more neighborly relations with others and fulfill our
covenant with God. They keep me
imagining justice.
And that’s the epiphany,
really: that there could be more justice
in this world, and that the people of faith could be instrumental in bringing
that about. There could be more justice
in our towns and our countryside, in our land relations and our politics. And though the prospect seems daunting, claiming
that truth begins with imagining.
Come join us for Epiphany in August,
Sunday the 6th at 10:30 a.m.
All are welcome.
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Trudy
Wischemann is a small town researcher who writes – and prays. You can send her your land epiphanies c/o
P.O. Box 1374, Lindsay CA 93247 or leave a comment below.
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