Pastor's Letter

Dear Friends in Christ,

My Cocoon tightens--Colors tease--

I'm feeling for the Air--

A dim capacity for Wings

Demeans the Dress I wear--

A power of Butterfly must be--

The Aptitude to fly

Meadows of Majesty implies

And easy Sweeps of Sky--

So I must baffle at the Hint

And cipher at the Sign

And make much blunder, if at last

I take the clue divine.

This is clearly an Easter poem, so you might wonder why I am sharing it with you in September--beyond the obvious reason that it is always a good time to share an Emily Dickinson poem. Autumn leads us to meditations opposite in mood from those of Spring, the goddess Eastre, the feast of Easter. True, but remember, every Sunday is acelebration of Easter. In a world rotten with sin and crushed by the power of death, Christians are called to be partisans of life and hope. Emily refers to our "dim" capacity for wings--that word "dim" reminds us of the great human tragedy of living so far below capacity. We are creatures made in God's image. We have "the Aptitude to fly." Despite all our blunders, God still sends us the "clue divine."

For Christians, Jesus is the divine clue. Jesus came among us to call us back from enslavementto sin and death and to teach us how to fly again. His gospel of love and compassion is really flying lessons. We may be baffled at the hint, we may cipher at the sign, but it keeps coming, week after week, in the love assembly, in the bread and wine that calls us to be transubstantiated into Body of Christ, in our growth through learning and serving.

It is September. School and church activities swing back into high gear after the lovely doldrums of Summer. It is not a time to get moody about falling leaves and other Autumnal melancholies. Because of God's love shown forth, among many others, in Jesus of Nazareth, our cocoons tighten, colors tease, and we are sensing the Air that will lift us high as we fly on the wings of love.

Fall, Winter, Spring, Summer go round and round. Youth, maturity, old age, and death come to us all. But by God's grace we transcend fear of finitude and fly up, soar high. I am a tiny particle, but I am part of a great poem of love. I am a single note, but I am a moment in God's Symphony. My cocoon tightens.

Yours in Christ,

--Pastor Bastien