24 tomatoes

Our last Indian tacos sale, at Church of the Indian Fellowship, was a success! Many fry bread amateurs came and visited us!

This time, April, one of our Elders fried the bread with the help of two of our young members, Angelina and Elizabeth, while I was serving our customers with the help of our deacon Monique. Another Elder, Tony, made the dough before dawn that day. Irvin was the cashier. It was fun to see our friends and also many staff members of the Puyallup tribe, whose offices are nearby, come and have lunch or take many to-go orders for their colleagues.

Then Irvin and I found ourselves with lots of tomatoes on our hands. This was a communication issue: my cell phone dropped dead just when Irvin was about to tell me that someone else volunteered to bring the tomatoes. So I purchased them too! And now, I am trying to find ways to use them before they lose their freshness.

When we came home from the sale, tired and bringing home the fry bread smell with us, I found a good recipe of tomato soup. It comes from a food website called “12 tomatoes”, a promising name…

This recipe suggests roasting the tomatoes in the oven before transforming them into soup. Another tasty idea: slices of bread, one side rubbed with olive oil and up under the grill in the oven. When it is nice and golden brown, switch the sides and put shredded cheese on before putting them back under the grill. Then assemble two by two to have grilled cheese sandwiches or cut in cubes for croutons.

The recipe can be found here. http://12tomatoes.com/shared-ultimate-comfort-soup/ 

Only 18 tomatoes left! To be followed….

Holy Week, a Week Apart

Holy Week is an essential time in the life of a church. Each year, the same question comes up: how should we best present the last hours of the life of Christ, so that we remain faithful to the biblical message without repeating a routine, year after year? How do we celebrate those ancient events while making them current and relevant to the 21^st century parishioners?

Thursday – Last Supper and Clean Hands

Thursday is Maundy Thursday – from latin “Mandatun” which means “commandment”, referring to the “new commandment” given by Christ during the last supper.

In the Gospel of John, in lieu of the command to eat the bread and drink the wine – representing the body and blood of Christ – we find Jesus insisting on washing the feet of his disciples. They are embarrassed. This task belonged to the least of the servants in a traditional household. Jesus  was teaching them an attitude of service toward each other that would be instrumental in bringing the Kingdom of God closer.

Irvin and I did not spend this evening together since CIF and UPPC both had planned a potluck dinner that night. There would also be a time of worship and communion. At UPPC, we also would wash each other – not feet, but hands. This was a suggestion that came from my experience at CIF. We did so a few years ago.

Washing feet was a tradition at the time of Jesus, where everyone had to walk their way to their destination on the dry and dusty paths of the Middle East. People would walk with simple sandals or with bare feet. Today, in our western world, feet don’t need a washing after we get to our destination. Our hands, however, are the ones requiring cleaning. They represent our service and our actions. They also express our desire of transparency and sincerity. Historically, we shake hands to demonstrate we are unarmed.  

I checked on what people were saying on that topic on Christian websites. I was surprise to find a controversy about it! Those who insisted on washing feet felt that doing otherwise was betraying the Scriptures. “Jesus did not wash the hands of his disciples! Let’s dare and follow his example rather than focusing on making parishioners more comfortable by not requiring they let go of their shoes!”

Sometimes, I feel we should also dare contextualize actions and traditions.

Friday – the Cross and the Gift of Freedom

Nine stations were put together in UPPC sanctuary. Each of the stations represented a step on Christ’s journey toward the cross on this Friday, from the garden of Gethsemane to Golgotha. At each station, participants were invited to reflect on the trials endured by Jesus and on their own path. This was a project that required an enormous amount of work, in particular for the team that physically put together each station. Lots of visitors came and appreciated this journey in the heart of Good Friday.  

That night was also Passover night. Irvin and I drove to Seattle to be part of the celebration with my Jewish family. As my aunt Diane mentioned, Passover takes place this year right in the middle of Holy week, and on a Friday, that is on Sabbath night. We praised together God the liberator with prayers in Hebrew, which is a delight for me and we dipped the Karpas (usually parsley) in little bowls of salt water. This is a reminder of that in midst of tears, we can also already taste hope and renewal.

We praise God who frees us and we are invited to become aware of the responsibility that now lays on us : we must use this freedom to free our neighbors. If they stay oppressed, we are not truly free either.

I admire the way the liturgy is waived throughout the meal, and how children become part of it, not simply observers, but actors. The youngest at the table asks the ritual questions, starting by “Why is this night different from all the other nights?”. Children are also tasked with looking for the Afikomen, a piece of matzah (flat bread) that has been hidden previously. This Afikomen will be the dessert.

But we had more than a piece of matzah for dessert. We enjoyed the fruits of the extraordinary talent of our friend Emma Notkine, whose lemon and pistaccio cake (a flour-less cake, of course) was a true work of art. This was high cuisine – and Emma is hardly in her early twenties!

Saturday – a pause (and for pastors : time to feverishly write their Easter sermons)

And since I was not preaching, it was a welcome pause for me.

Sunday – He is risen.

Three services that morning at UPPC, and for those who work there, a parking further away to make room for the visitors. A little girl in a pink dress from a fairy tale was baptized at one of the services and she admitted that she hoped that the bruise she had on her face (a confrontation with another child during recess that week) would disappear with the baptismal water. 

During the contemporary service, a rap in the middle of the opening song, not exactly my kind of music, but this one was superb and occasioned an ovation from the surprised and delighted crowd. 

And Pastor Aaron, with the same enthusiasm, preached three times about the way God reaches us best when we are in the ground, in the deepest hole, in a grave like Jesus was.

It was Easter.

Then the discreet ritual that follows Easter… Rest for exhausted pastors. 

Morning Doe, Bad Blood and Indian tacos

What happened this week ? Looking back.

Morning Doe

Last Sunday, as I was going to UPPC for worship, I found myself right in front of a doe, or so it seemed. I had just exited the highway. She was walking on the curb, coming from nearby woods I suppose. She crossed the road behind me. 

Sometimes, I find myself crossing path with a coyote or a deer, a reminder that so many neighborhoods have been built recently on woods where they would roam. 

Those encounters are always a surprise to me, and now that I know a little bit about the Native American perspective, I see and enjoy them as a smile from the world unknown.

Bad Blood is not French – or is it?

That Sunday, after the first worship, there was a blood drive in the gym. I always volunteer for those. I like the connection it creates between two persons who will never meet, one receiving the blood she needs from the other. And I am Group O, universal giver, which is not as frequent here as it is in France.

So I went and talked to the nurse who was welcoming people. Alas, the process stopped here for me. I am French. I lived in France in the 80 and 90’s; that was when the mad cow disease broke out. There is no way to detect if I was contaminated and could develop the Creutzfeldt-Jacob disease one day. So the nurse declined my offer. She was sorry and was wondering how to soften the rejection. She had a hesitant smile.

“Do you want a cookie?”

Indian Tacos Opportunity

Every quarter, the Church of the Indian Fellowship organizes a fry bread sale. Fry bread is a comforting Native specialty. The piece of fry bread can be used as a tortilla, a foundation to layer refried beans, ground meat, shredded lettuce, tomatoes and cheese. It is then called Indian Tacos.

On Friday, we had a big crowd. I was delighted and grateful to see friends from UPPC join the connoisseurs!

The next day, the sale continued. I made a buffalo stew that can be eaten with a piece of fry bread. It slow cooked over night in a sauce of tomato paste, soja sauce, Cherry vinegar and Worcestershire sauce, with homemade beef stock.

Good bye , Mark

Since December, UPPC has been focusing on the Gospel of Mark. The sermons have followed the flow of the Gospel, we had classes on Wednesday night to go deeper. Each week, I would write a few paragraphs on the chapter we would get to, followed by questions for study. It was hard work…  and that also became a joy to do it when I would feel I grasped a new angle or perspective and it would become this text included in the bulletin.

But the journey is about to conclude. The series will end with Easter Sunday. Relieved and a bit sad, I just wrote my last text on the 16^th chapter. Mark, in the earliest manuscripts, concludes with the women overwhelmed after meeting with the angel of the resurrection. An ending that is also a new start in the sun rising light.

We are entering the Holy Week… To be followed… 

Creativity and generosity : Vacation Bible School 2014

Our Church had its VBS last week. We have been using the “Group” curriculum, which works well with our hyperactive kids. And since others churches also use it but not the same week, decorations and items have been generously shared from churches to churches. This generosity also included the participation of three ladies who had done VBS in their church the month before and came to help us with their experience during the whole week.

Children are organized in crews of 4 or 5, led by a volunteer, then go from stations to stations. There is the biblical station where the story is interpreted “live” by volunteers….

"Saul", in a red robe, becomes a Christian.

The Samaritan woman, next to the well

Outdoor games, led by teenagers that were participants in the previous year….

"Even when I am different or alone.... Jesus loves me!"

The “imagination” station, with art and craft ; and a video time ; snacks were prepared and shared, following the theme of the day….

"we are all different and unique" - translated into frosted cookies

Songs and a message from the Pastor start and conclude the day – Irvin really got into the spirit so he could share best and be heard!

"We are all one of a kind" said Irvin

Teaching the movements that come with the songs

Then there was a meal – not included in the curriculum – before sending the children home, or driving those whose parents did not have a car with the church’s van. This meal means a lot. Our volunteers in the kitchen did a wonderful job!

Those were intense hours, with laughters, prayers and music. And of course, it also included children who fought or got discouraged, volunteers stressed out, misunderstandings.

In other words, the unavoidable shifting that comes within a community that makes every effort to create a space inhabited by the Spirit, touched by God – and make it happen. 

After the benediction

Last Sunday, I had the pleasure to lead worship at Church of the Indian Fellowship. Irvin was at Fort Worth, Texas where he participated at the multicultural conference of the PC(USA). I get to fill in for him when he is out of town.

Before the benediction, I often quote those verses from Philippians 4:5-8

 “Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!  Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near.  Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.  And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

Then the benediction follows, that I keep simple.

“May the blessing of God almighty,

The Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit

Remain with you always.”

Irvin likes the benediction from Numbers (6 :25)

“The LORD bless you
       and keep you;

the LORD make his face shine upon you
       and be gracious to you;

the LORD turn his face toward you
       and give you peace."

Sometimes, he adds this Cherokee blessing :

“May the warm wind of heaven

blow softly upon you

And the creator make sunrise in your heart.”

After the benediction, I walk briskly toward the door of the church, while the assemble sings the responsive hymn.

The first time I saw a pastor do that was soon after I made it to the US. I remember my confusion when I saw the pastor leave the pulpit so fast. “Where is he going ? Leaving already?”

I found out soon that most pastors do it. They are not leaving, obviously – they go to the door to make sure they can shake the hand of each parishioner before they leave or go get a cup of coffee in the Fellowship hall.

“It is an intensely concentrated time of interaction” writes Martin Copenhaver[1], describing how his parishioners update him on their life in that short face-to-face moment, or react to his sermon, appreciative or perplex, rarely sarcastic.

He remembers though that soon after his ordination, a man told him with a smile “You know, Martin, every sermon seems better than the next one”. Martin comments “He was in his car and driving away before I realized what he had said”.

When in France, I would stay around the pulpit and gather my papers after leading worship. Some people would come up to me and we would talk. Others would chat with each other and disperse. It felt more spontaneous.

On the other hand, I appreciate having this opportunity to greet each person who came to join us, whether I have known them for years or am just meeting them. They have listened to me for more than an hour. It is my time to hear them – and I enjoy this opportunity.

Friends from French churches: so now you know. If the American pastor quickly moves to the door at the end of worship, he is not fleeing away or rushing to the bathroom. No, he just wants to make sure he will be able to shake your hand.

You heard his benediction. Now is his time to receive yours.

Irvin at the door of Church of the Indian Fellowship

---

[1] This Odd and Wondrous Calling, Eedermans Publishing, Grand Rapids, Michigan/Cambridge UK, 2009, p.11

Two Christmas in December with Juliette

Working in a church, while being an active member (and the pastor’s wife) in another congregation, means having a lot on your plate, particularly before Christmas. I went from fry bread and craft sales at Indian fellowship to annual events at UPPC. I was physically exhausted but was rewarded by the encounters and discoveries that took place during those very full days.

On December 14^th, I was part of the Community Christmas day at UPPC. On that Saturday, many families in need were welcomed at church. Children had workshop to craft presents for their parents while parents would pick up gifts for them as well as festive food. I was among those that would escort the parents and we had great time of conversation and sharing. On the picture below, I am the one wearing the antlers.

Meanwhile, at church of the Indian fellowship, fry bread and craft sale was going on. Juliette, a French friend, was learning to deal with the dough and hot oil under Irvin’s direction. 

I had never met Juliette before : she is the grand-daughter of Marcel who used to work at my very first home church, le Centre Protestant de Rencontre. 

When I used to worship there, Juliette was probably 4 or 5. She is now a Medical student who just got done with her 6^th year. She travelled through the US for two months. We connected as if we had always known each other during this epic weekend.

We were both tired with sore feet when we caught up with each other. A Presbyterian Christmas the American way, you cannot make that up. 

Impromptu Wedding

The phone rang early that morning - a woman’s worried voice. I feared the worse (I always do) but fortunately, the perceptible fretfulness did not mean a tragedy had happened. Quite the opposite. “I need to get married today! Would the pastor marry us?”

On this snowy day, the combination of a soon-to-expire license, the gathering of parents, friends and witnesses, as well as the absence of the judge of the Puyallup tribe (due to the weather?) led to this call. But black ice was preventing anyone to go up to the church. This is how the whole party ended two hours later in our living room, surrounding the bride – a tall and strong tattooed Native woman, full of life and humor.

The liturgy was simple and moving. I passed around boxes of Kleenex. “That was really good, said one of the witnesses to Irvin. I am sorry I did not know you before I got married”. I appreciated the command to be a united couple while remaining fully oneself. “Be together and yet respect the sacred places between you.  You are not alike.  Celebrate your individuality.  Be one in purpose, yet two persons”. 

The closing blessing is poetic and inspiring.             

Now for you the North wind does not blow;

You are shelter to one another.

Now for you there is no hunger;

Each brings what the other needs.

Now for you there is no darkness;

You have learned to see with the heart.

Now for you there is no loneliness;

Two have become one.

It was still snowing when the newlyweds and their loved ones left.

Blind and yet discerning

So I was preaching on Sunday – Irvin came back late on Saturday night from Phoenix, Arizona where he taught an Introduction to New Testament class to a group of lay leaders. I always take advantage of such circumstances to snatch up an opportunity to preach…

I chose a text from the Gospel of Mark, where Jesus heals Bartimaeus, the blind beggar, in the last verses of chapter 10 (10:46-52). This text shows us a man deprived of his sight but more aware of what is going on than anyone else around. This encounter is the counterpart of the meeting that opens the chapter 10: the dialogue between Jesus and the rich young man who refuses to follow him because he cannot part with his wealth.  

Bartimeaus calls Jesus “son of David”, a messianic title that no one else uses in the Gospel of Mark. He does not hesitate to throw his cloak aside so he can reach Jesus as fast as he can, in the midst of a crowd so without much hope of ever finding it again. His cloak – probably the only protection this beggar had against the cold Mid-Eastern nights… And when Jesus eventually told him “go”, Bartimeaus instead chose to follow the one who just saved him.

Indeed, Bartimeaus has a lot to teach us on perspicacity in the midst of darkness. I took it personally: I thought for an instant that I would not be able to read out loud the text of the Gospel, as the lines looked so small. Being unable to see when you are getting ready to explore a text about a blind man, this is true irony. This is time for me to stop hiding from the hard truth. I need glasses…

The lectionary has a good sense of humor

One of the biblical texts this morning, according to the lectionary, came from Exodus 17. Hebrews became thirsty in the desert and turned to Moses with anguish. Moses cried out to God. The answer came fast: strike the rock at Horeb and water will come out, ordered the Eternal. So it was.

I did not preach on Exodus this morning, yet those verses came to my mind when we found out at 9:00 AM that water was cut off at the church. No bathroom, no kitchen on the day where we were expecting adults and kids for a morning of bible study then worship followed by lunch.

The white building is our church.
Picture by Rev. Jett Brooks

Who to call? Who to reach on a Sunday morning? The answer was complex: the building belongs to the Puyallup tribe and sits on the tribal cemetery. Eventually, Irvin was able to reach someone at the casino, open every day, our neighbor on the other side of a huge parking lot, who was compassionate as well as knowledgeable and called the right persons. A few minutes before the service started at 11:00 AM, water came out.

The lunch that followed was a fundraiser for our Children ministry and it offered fry bread and Indian Tacos. We were delighted to have Tom and Bev, elders of our church join us. Bev has been through quite an ordeal with her diabetes and lost her two legs. Physicians thought several times she would not make it. But she was here with us, vibrant and humorous. Her family and husband care for her with love and dedication.

Is the Lord among us or not? This was the questions pondered by the Hebrews when they feared dying of thirst. (Exodus 17:7). For the past 10 years that we have been serving Church of the Indian fellowship, we witnessed the answer of this faithful community: the Lord is among us.

It happened in December…

… but I I did not find it time to mentioned it so far.

Two services in one night

On Christmas Eve, Irvin, his sister Chris who came to visit from Idaho and me took part at two Christmas Eve services. The first one was at Indian Fellowship at 6:00 PM. About 60 people came. Two of the ladies told us afterward they had been very moved: this was the very first Christmas Eve service they had ever attended. We read verses from the Gospel of Luke, sang traditional carols, and lighted 12 candles one after the other, throughout the service. Irvin and I even sang together an old French song – in French!

First Pres had two services that night, a traditional one at 7:00 PM and a contemporary one at 11:00 PM. There is a musical dividing line throughout the American Christianity. Some enjoy singing like they always have, rejoicing and feeling inspired by the songs they grew up with. Others, usually younger folks, request more modern and stimulant music that some call “praise music”. Churches of the size of First Pres often have two services on Sunday morning – or Christmas Eve – so both groups worship with the music they need. Since I enjoy every opportunity to sing, traditionally or otherwise, I had the pleasure to sing with the praise team at 11:00 PM. Sue offered Irvin to serve communion with her. So we had two wonderful opportunities to celebrate Christmas, in varied atmosphere but each time with joy. In each setting, it was the time to «sing to the Lord a new song, Sing to the Lord, all the earth» (psalm 96)

Houses and cars are also in tune with Christmas

Since the beginning of Fall, houses and sometimes even cars follow the rhythm of the celebrations. From Halloween, to Thanksgiving then Christmas, decorations change the look of the neighborhood. In December, houses are almost transformed in Christmas trees, with their own lights and ornaments, many referring to Santa Claus. All Santa’s history, in all its details, is also a traditional part of the American celebration. Each deer that pulls Santa’s sledge even has its own name! The most popular is Rudolph, the “red nose deer” who has its own story told in an animated movie. One day in December, I parked by a car who had been “dressed up” as Rudolph ! Only in America… 

Santa and the Spirit of Giving

Before the representation, our congregation shared an abundant meal – each of us bringing turkey, or green bean casseroles, or potatoes and pies…

Then Santa Claus arrived with lots of gifts - children were overjoyed. Adults also enjoyed sitting on his lap for a fun picture!

Richard and Santa

Our church was not forgotten, as Santa giving spirit manifested itself through another person. Julie, whose family has been part of the life of this church since the 50s when she was a little girl, kept early memories of our congregation. She came with her sister Ada, her niece Bonnie as well as Laura, Bonnie’s daughter and her husband Tyrus who have been coming regularly. Julie’s brother, Marv, shared those childhood memories. He had been active in our church several years ago. He suddenly passed away of a heart attack in 2006. Julie told us that she sold a piece of property in California and she was advised to consider a donation to a charity. At the same time, she heard about our financial vulnerability and our efforts to raise funds. She brought a card in which she shared with emotion how much this little church has meant to her and her family. There was a $10,000 check in it!

That same afternoon, Pastor Sue from First Pres let us know that the session had decided to send us a very generous contribution. Those exceptional donations are such a life saver as we continue our efforts to come up with creative fund raising ideas. This Christmas season is indeed a time for gratefulness at our church.

Next to Irvin, from right to left: Bonnie, Ada, Julie and Laura.

Memories of Christmas, the Wisdom of our Elders

Last week, our church celebrated Christmas in its program whose aim was to narrate the events of the Nativity with the children playing the characters of the Bible, while including older folks of our congregation.

Irvin interviewed two of our members who were born at the time of the Depression. Ace is a member of the Arikara tribe from North Dakota. Eleanor’s parents came from Germany and Irland and she grew up in Minnesota. Both agreed to share their Christmas memories with Irvin. They also shared pictures with him. Irvin created a PowerPoint presentation that was part of the program. Children also led traditional Christmas carols, and were joined by the assistance.

 

At the end of the program, Eleanor showed us a night stand table that had been crafted by her Dad. He was a carpenter and he would construct such pieces of furniture that he would sell for $1 and he would buy toys for Christmas with the money. He was awarded with a blue ribbon, the highest distinction, at a State exhibition, for his carpentry work. A wonderful testimony of love and art through time.

Angels and Shepherds ready to go!

This afternoon, we had a dress rehearsal at CIF. The children from our Creator Talking Circle (our Sunday School) came to try their outfits and review their roles.

Tomorrow Sunday, a potluck dinner will take place directly after our worship and our Christmas program will follow. It should start around 2:00 PM. The children will interpret several key scenes of the Nativity – the angels sharing the good news with the shepherds, Joseph and Mary looking for an inn – and Christmas carols that will be sung along by the audience.

Christmas memories from two of our parishioners who were born right after the great depression will also be shared with a PowerPoint presentation.

Irvin is the director of the program, and he is actively assisted by Danielle, one of the teachers. She ingeniously created beautiful angels costumes, taking into consideration that our church funds are at a lowest point. A friend of the church let us use the costumes she had created for the shepherds last year.

If everything goes as it went today, that should be a great program! 

 

A Bird Tells Us about Peace.

What is peace ? A story, found in the monthly newsletter sent by Zach, a realtor friend, suggests a wise answer.

“There was once a King who offered a prize to the artist who would paint the best picture of Peace. Many artists tried. The king looked at all the pictures, but there were only two he really liked and he had to choose between them.

One picture was of a calm lake. The lake was a perfect mirror, with peaceful, towering mountains all around it. Overhead was a blue sky with fluffy white clouds. All who saw this picture thought that it was a perfect picture of peace.

The other picture had mountains, too. But these were rugged and bare. Above was an angry sky from which rain fell and in which lightening flashed. Down the side of the mountain tumbled a foaming waterfall. This did not look peaceful at all.

But when the King looked closer, he saw behind the waterfall a tiny bush growing in a crack in the rock. In the bush a mother bird had built her nest. There, in the midst of the rush of angry water and noise, sat the mother bird on her nest… in perfect peace.

Which pictures won the prize?

The King chose the second picture. “Because”, explained the King, “peace does not mean to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble or hard work. Peace means to be in the midst of all those things and still be calm in your heart. This is the real meaning of peace. »

Last Sunday, third Sunday of Advent, I preached at our church as Irvin directed a rehearsal with the children for the Christmas program that will take place next Sunday. I opened with this story. The weeks of Advent and Christmas preparations are both a time of joy and stress for many families. Some in our church are desperately looking for a job. Others are worried for their health or the health of a loved one. The future of our church is also very uncertain. It is more than ever a time to focus on the peace “that surpasses all understanding” (Ephesians 4:7) that God provides.

Pandora’s box and its Exact Opposite.

Pandora’s box – actually a large jar or amphora since this story comes from the Greek mythology- used to hold all the imaginable evils which poured out onto the world once the jar was regrettably opened. Only hope stayed inside. In our church, the situation is exactly opposite. Our treasury is empty but we are equipped with hope.

Our grant has expired. Last week, at our session meeting, the treasurer brought predictable yet alarming numbers. The church is able to pay its pastor in December. And in January. And that’s it.

This means possible hurdles for the future of our congregation and incidentally for the life of the pastor. Still we have good hope to overcome this circumstance.

In our Presbyterian denomination, churches are autonomous yet interdependent through regional and national bodies. Our church prepared a request for an emergency grant to the synod. This request should first be approved by the Presbytery. Last Tuesday, several elders, Irvin and I met with its council.

One important fact we wanted to share: our financial situation does not provide from a lack of generosity from our members. Most of them have fixed incomes yet they boldly contribute as much as they can. What is happening to us is not an isolated circumstance. The others 121 Native Presbyterian churches in the country struggle to exist and none can support a full-time pastor.

The Presbytery heard us and is supporting our request. Neighboring churches, like First Pres where I did my internship, have been partnering with us for years and also want to be on board to help us.

If this request is granted, the financial help will be punctual and limited in time so we are also resolutely engaging on fundraising efforts. Last night, we invited our parishioners to join us for a Dinner and a Brainstorm aimed at finding creative ways to let our church be known and raise funds. Many ideas were brought up, some of them will be implemented straightaway in this favorable time of Advent and Christmas.

May you live interesting times – this sentence often attributed to China was mentioned by Robert Kennedy in 1966.  We are trying.