by Rev. Sean Amato

Beloved people, I have to own up to something: even as your pastor, or perhaps especially as your pastor, I don’t often find it easy, or even possible sometimes, to translate scripture into reality. On a good day, our world seems custom-made to counteract the better angels of our nature. We’re called to be good people in a world that, if we can be honest, too
often rewards people who aren’t good. Called to be patient, called to be kind, called to be gentle, in a world where those characteristics, those strengths, are often interpreted as weaknesses. Often interpreted as some kind of paltry or perfunctory modern politeness, instead of as an essential part of our faith. And in a world where we might struggle to carry these values, to carry our Christianity, we find ourselves looking for signs, for reminders: “Why do we do all of this? Why be the church? Why be good?”

I find myself asking these questions before a world that seems numb, and unhappy, and disconnected – asking these questions, and expecting no answers. And yet, like divine happenstance, like what has happened to generations of Christians before me, I observed a beautiful sign.

Several days ago, here in this sanctuary, I witnessed my very first Slatersville Christmas Eve services – one at 5pm, and one at 11pm. And in those services, I found my sign. In this numb world, I watched people I’d never seen enter this sanctuary and respond to our service and our church’s beauty, point at our wreaths and gasp at the lit votaries on our common. In this unhappy world, I watched people in this sanctuary laugh and hug friends or family they hadn’t seen in years; I heard people describe the last time they were here, reminiscing about what this place meant to them. In this disconnected world, I watched total strangers share the light of the Christ Candle between one another – and our sanctuary, previously shrouded in darkness, was lit up by many small flames, all illuminating a different face – some singing, some smiling, others simply watching or swaying with their eyes closed.

Seeing these things during the 5pm service choked me up a bit – but it’s hard to let that show in front of a hundred and fifty people. So I joined the people with their eyes closed. I opened them to music. Joy to the world, indeed. That moment sent a shiver down my entire body, and I later reflected on the fact that the only other time I’d felt that way in a church was standing in the same place during my second service here with you folks – when, after Rev. David Proctor presided over Communion, we joined hands and sang the Lord’s
Prayer loud enough, powerfully enough, to blow the top off this building.

Over the last few days, I reflected even further, and realized that this church, its place and its people, its congregants and its staff, this one body of Christ – it reflects Colossians 3:12-17 on a deep, deep level. Colossians 3:12-17, a scripture that calls us to five special values: compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience.

When I think of compassion, I think of people like Jean Meo and Donna Myers – people with soulful concerns for those around them, for the community at large, people who are sensitive to the needs of the world. Those who approach others with the Christian traditions of care and love at the forefront. People who, in their own ways, work to widen and lengthen the Table of the Lord, so that all might come to it – so that our values, our search for goodness and justice, can be made real. Oh God, you lift us up through people like Jean and Donna.

When I think of kindness, my mind drifts to people like Rick Stelle and Palmer Swanson – two men who have helped me and supported me so kindly and graciously, in their own ways, along the path that is being your pastor. I think of those who take part in our Hospitality Committee, people who make sure it’s not just our souls that are fed but our bellies – people who take our wholeness into account. Individuals who, in word and in deed, work toward the betterment of their people – people who make special exception for others, who go
the extra mile. Holy One, thank you for Rick, Palmer, and our Hospitality folks – for all they do to bolster others.

In reflecting on humility, I think in a way that others might see as outside the box: I think of Ropi Jr. who, underneath his charisma, lifts all compliments – all rejoicing – up
to God; I think of Bob Meo who, even with his own big personality, helps to establish pragmatic new ways for this church to adapt and survive. God, bless those amongst us who humble themselves, who center themselves in this community, who help all of us to be humble.

When I think about Biblical gentleness, our call to help others instead of feigning superiority or indifference, I think of people like Margaret Hanoian and Jim Robshaw and Darlene Magaw – individuals who seek to support and love people, who seek to make space for and account for and care for people even when it’s not convenient, even when it’s not glamorous to do so, to do so in a way that calls our attention to our true values. Those who call us away from the sharp edge of our world, back to a Godordained gentleness. Lord, thank you for blessing us with people like Margaret, Jim, and Darlene.

And in pondering patience, I have no one to thank more than Michell Eskeli – the pastor’s keeper, in a real sense. In these last few months, I will admit I’ve had some very distinct ups and downs – some sincere learning experiences, paired with beautiful exchanges and affirmations. I could not have lasted this far without Michell, with whom I spend more time than my friends or family; I could not have learned this community, learned about all of you, without her well-humored patience and capacity for listening. God, your servant Michell is a blessing; bless her in turn, help us all bless her.

These people have been my signs over the last few months – my living revelations, the people through whom God has taught me so much. I do not mean to single out these people, necessarily, but I suppose I have – and in doing so, I want to note something else: if I didn’t mention you, that’s not because you’re not doing the work. You are. I’ve seen you do the work, and others have, too. This church thrives on all of us living out our Christianity, together: of taking up Jesus’s teachings and translating them into reality. Thank you all, sincerely, for showing me how it’s done. May God bless you and keep you, my friends.

Pastor Sean