The Resilience of Spring: Inspiration and Call to Action

"Just like moons and like suns, With the certainty of tides, Just like hopes springing high, Still I'll rise."   --Maya Angelou, 1978 

In this part of the world it is almost, ALMOST full on spring. But…it is not quite yet.

I write this piece in the third full week of April, an often stubborn time in Creation when the iron grip of winter seems to refuse to let go and the promise of summer seems to still be far off. That’s what it’s like here in central Minnesota at this time of year. Each spring I return to this special place on God’s green earth, a Benedictine University that sits in the middle of the prairies and the farmer’s fields with a chill cold that still doesn’t know it is time to leave.

Yet, today, right here, we are so, so, so close now.  We can make it to spring. I know it!

The tips of the trees sport tiny green buds where just days before these were bare and brown.  The loons cry out from the lake as if to say, “Come on spring! It’s time!”  The sun stays up later and later and the angle of the light is higher and sharper. The pungent aroma of manure wafts up from the fields where in just weeks sprouts of alfalfa and sunflowers and corn will appear. Outdoor tables appear at restaurants. Baseball is in full swing and it’s time to listen to the Twins game on radio WCCO.

There is a resilience to nature in the spring, a dependable power to turn and turn and turn and be renewed and changed and then to showcase brand new life. To remind us that one day the snow does melt and the frost does recede and all life itself somehow is miraculously reborn.

And the earth rises. We rise.

This is the quality of resilience our world needs right now. Our nation. And yes, we who are living through this winter of our discontent. A chilly time of wars and more wars. Of a belligerent and bully leader who spout threats against any and all who dare to challenge his imperious and increasingly unhinged “leadership.” Each day’s headlines bring forth more turmoil and tumult and chaos, the suffering of the innocent, the cruel treatment of the weak and the wandering by the powerful. It can feel as if the bad guys are winning and by a lot and yet….

Resilience calls out to us. Can you hear it?

Resilience yells from the treetops: “Hang in there and hang on through!” Holy resilience asks us to be channels for God’s goodness and God’s grace and God’s peace and God’s mercy, which will and must finally break into the world.

Resilience is ready to show up, and spring is ready to reappear and so we too must be resilient if swords are to be smashed into plowshares. Resilient…if warmongers are to be silenced. If the corrupt are to be called out and shamed. If folks of faith who act with cruelty and then hide their actions beneath the fig leaf of “religion” are to be exposed.  

Resilience challenges us to have the faith and courage to confront, to resist, and in the words of Saint Paul, to stand up for and defend, “whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable.”

My God, do we need spring! Does our world need spring! And yes, friends, it is coming. May we believe in this hope. Work for this hope. Trust in this hope. 

And may God help us all to be resilient.

(The views expressed in this essay do not necessarily reflect the views of the people and church I serve nor the United Church of Christ.)

The Reverend John F. Hudson is Senior Pastor of the Pilgrim Church, United Church of Christ, in Sherborn, Massachusetts (pilgrimsherborn.org). He blogs at sherbornpastor.blogspot.com and is a resident scholar at the Collegeville Institute at Saint John’s University in Collegeville, Minnesota. For twenty-five years he was a columnist whose essays appeared in newspapers throughout Massachusetts and Rhode Island. He has served churches in New England since 1989. For comments, please be in touch: pastorjohn@pilgrimsherborn.org.

 

 

        

 

 

To the Stars Above or the Mud Below: What Will It Be America?

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, …it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.” --Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities, 1859

I could not help but feel whip sawed at the contrasts in Wednesday’s (April 1^st) news cycle.  In the early evening we saw Artemis II successfully liftoff, as it began its weeklong mission to transport four astronauts to the moon and back. This is American’s first manned visit to our close celestial neighbor since December 19^th, 1972. That day Apollo 17 lifted off from the lunar surface, with mission commander Eugene Cernan offering as departing words, “God willing, we shall return, with peace and hope for all mankind."

Looks like we just might accomplish that hope and prayer: return to the moon but maybe even more important, in the process remind ourselves as a nation we are still capable of achieving big things, if we work constructively and all together.  We can still trust in science as a dependable measure of life. We can remind the world that America once was, and might be again, a nation that acts with competence and integrity, and can be depended upon to help lead the world.

Or I suppose that instead we could just devote our national resources to war and conquest and violence. The Presidential budget request for the Department of Defense is $1.5 trillion, a record. Whoopee. We could threaten anyone on earth who gets in our way, even nations who were once our faithful and true allies. We could put the power to make war in the hands of someone who never served in the military, who mocked decorated Senator and Navy Pilot John McCain for getting shot down and held as a POW during the Vietnam War.

That’s the basic “mindset” expressed by our “Commander in Chief” on the very same day as Artemis II’s launch, just a few hours later in a speech. He bragged that, when it comes to our current war with Iran, “We are going to bring them back to the stone ages where they belong…”

I suppose that’s just what we should expect from a cave man.

What a stark and sobering contrast and contradiction about just whom the United States of America is in 2026.

We can shoot for the stars, or we can wallow in the mud.

We can work together with our longtime neighbors like Canada in trust and faithfulness and invite a Canadian, Jeremy Hansen, to be a part of the Artemis’ crew.  Or we can tell our one time friends around the globe that its every man for themselves. When it comes to oil and the Strait of Hormuz, well, good luck with that. Don’t expect us to help.

In my religious tradition Holy Week is always about getting to a place of light and hope after moving through days of darkness and despair.  From Good Friday to Easter Sunday.  From stormy shadows at night to bright skies in the morning. From the cross to the empty tomb.

Really, that’s what so many humans, I’d say most humans, strive for every day. To be hopeful and then to live so as to give others hope too. Hope for a better world and for better lives. Hope for more love and less hate. More peace and less war. Most religions seek this hope as well: the greatest good for the greatest number of people across Creation.

But to get such a place of hope is to be and to do that which is essentially good and decent and kind and visionary and loving and peaceful. To achieve hope is to believe we can do better. We will do better. Like sending a rocket to the moon and giving hope to millions. 

And the way to lose hope is to use violence and threats against anyone who doesn’t agree with our bellicose, chaotic leader, he who likes nothing better than to make war, abroad and at home.  

Me? I’ll take the stars and I’ll take hope and I’ll take peace every single day. I hope you will too.

(The views expressed in this essay do not necessarily reflect the views of the people and church I serve nor the United Church of Christ.)

The Reverend John F. Hudson is Senior Pastor of the Pilgrim Church, United Church of Christ, in Sherborn, Massachusetts (pilgrimsherborn.org). He blogs at sherbornpastor.blogspot.com and is a resident scholar at the Collegeville Institute at Saint John’s University in Collegeville, Minnesota. For twenty-five years he was a columnist whose essays appeared in newspapers throughout Massachusetts and Rhode Island. He has served churches in New England since 1989. For comments, please be in touch: pastorjohn@pilgrimsherborn.org.

 

        

 

Look for the Crocuses. Look for Spring. Dare to Hope.

How to Welcome Spring Back to New England: A Personal Checklist

1)Hang Red Sox flag on the garage mounted flagpole just before Opening Day.

2)Listen to the robins and chickadees who’ve returned to sing of spring.

3)Clean out garage from its salty and muddy winter clutter and mess.

4)Pack away gloves, mittens, hats, scarves, and union suits.

5)Wait with anticipation and joy for the crocuses, the blessed crocuses, to blossom, and then remember to take a photo of the very first one to pop.

That last tradition is one I enjoy and certainly anticipate the most.  Every year in spring, beginning in early March, each morning when I leave from home or at dusk when I return to my suburban house I look in the bare and brown flower beds for the crocuses. These faithfully blossom this time of year as the very first sign of natural life returning to my front yard. Some years there’s still small piles of dirty snow that stick around, as if these too are waiting for those shoots of green to push up through the chilly ground, delicate buds of purple to open up.   

I’ve got a photo of the years’ first crocus going back many years. Chronus vernus is its official botanical name.  I think it should just be called hope. Hopus springus.

Because by the end of a snowy, chilled to the bone kind of winter that we are just now emerging from, I know I need hope. Hope that believes and trusts in the power of the universe and God to spin the world back around to a more favorable angle, so this part of the planet warms again.

But this spring in particular I really, really need to have hope and not just in nature and the environment but in life itself. I need to have hope that the darkness and chill of war and human cruelty that has infected our world in the past year will give way to a new season of light and non-violence.

I need to hope that we will one day enjoy a springtime of a world renewed. A springtime where violence wilts and withers away and peace blossoms again, everywhere from Minnesota to Iran, Venezuela to Washington, D.C.

Some might see such hope as naive, or pollyannish or just not tough enough or hard enough to send away the evil and violence that seems to be running the show in much of Creation these days.  And yet it is claiming hope, more than any other emotion or belief, that has sustained and yes, saved humans for thousands of years, especially when the winters are the longest and the nights darkest.

In a way the worse that the world gets the more we must hope, and not just in words or prayers but in action too. Hope that embraces each and every child of God, no one left out or left behind. Hope that is merciful and compassionate especially towards those who live on the margins of life: the innocent, the stranger, the sick, the very old and the very young.   

Hope that just refuses to die.

That hopeful spirit is the essence of my faith tradition, especially in spring. When Christians celebrate Easter, when we emerge from a Good Friday of death and despair, we dare to trust that the sun will come up on Sunday, that evil will be defeated, and that love is finally the most powerful force ever, and not just on earth but in the entire universe.

That’s why I choose to look for and to trust in the crocuses and in spring itself. God is good. Life is good. Hope will win. The buds will blossom again.

So, welcome back spring.  Welcome back crocuses. May you dare us to hope.  

(The views expressed in this essay do not necessarily reflect the views of the people and church I serve nor the United Church of Christ.)

The Reverend John F. Hudson is Senior Pastor of the Pilgrim Church, United Church of Christ, in Sherborn, Massachusetts (pilgrimsherborn.org). He blogs at sherbornpastor.blogspot.com and is a resident scholar at the Collegeville Institute at Saint John’s University in Collegeville, Minnesota. For twenty-five years he was a columnist whose essays appeared in newspapers throughout Massachusetts and Rhode Island. He has served churches in New England since 1989. For comments, please be in touch: pastorjohn@pilgrimsherborn.org.

 

 

 

  

 

Read a Book. Change Your Life. Change the World.

"The right stories, read at the right time, can be as important as shelter or food. They can help us to escape calamity, and heal us in its aftermath.” --Terri Windling, American fantasy author

Can books save us? Save our world?

If one could be saved by, say, the sheer volume of books consumed and collected, then “Hallelujah!” I’m saved! You see, I kind have a book accumulation…well, problem. I’m not a book hoarder but I do have something like 1,000 books, probably more, scattered all over my house. Books on bookshelves and end tables. Books piled high upon a bureau I long ago stopped using. Books on the dining room table and the kitchen table, on the shelves in bedroom closets. My nightstand groans under the weight of four stacks of books and yet, I still buy more books. 

I’m definitely a bibliophile which means “a lover of books.” And yes, a bibliomaniac meaning a person who, “has an insatiable desire to collect books.” The Japanese have a wonderful word for folks who acquire books and then let them pile up all over the house—tsundoku.

Now that is absolutely me. Maybe you too.

I have lots of family and friends who are book crazy. My colleague Scott and I used to go to preacher’s conventions (there is such a thing!) and he’d buy so many books on the art of homiletics (another cool word!), that we’d have to visit the local post office before going to the airport. With so many tomes purchased, he needed to mail them home, lest he get penalized for overweight luggage!

Some folks read with a Kindle, or Kobo or iPad and don’t own too many volumes. But I need the feel and the heft and tactile activity, the physicality needed to read a paper book.

Which brings me back to my original questions.

Can books save us? Can books save the world?

Creation certainly needs saving: from wars of bombs that hurt and kill and wars of words that hurt and kill the spirit. We need saving from the fears and suspicions that separate us from fellow children of God. We need saving from staying on our own little islands of identity and beliefs.   We need to be reminded of the goodness of the world and its citizens, the common good, and God’s good too.

And all of this can be found in books.

Books and the stories and ideals they contain can teach us, inspire us and empower us. Rescue us from our worst impulses. Books can give us the wisdom and resolve to resist Herodian wannabee kings and their sycophantic minions.  Books feed our spirits.    

Read or reread the science fiction of George Orwell’s “1984” or Margaret Atwood’s “A Handmaid’s Tale” and get a glimpse into the powers and principalities we are called to overcome. Read Harper Lee’s “To Kill a Mockingbird” and remember the eternal need for compassion and simple human decency.  Read Alex Haley’s biography of Malcolm X’s or Martin Luther King’s “Letter from a Birmingham Jail” and learn that resistance against oppressive institutional and individual racism has been going on too long and must go on. Poetry can save our souls too, by Maya Angelou. "You may write me down in history, With your bitter, twisted lies, You may trod me in the very dirt, But still, like dust, I'll rise." By Emily Dickinson, ““Hope” is the thing with feathers - That perches in the soul - And sings the tune without the words - And never stops - at all.”

Read a book. Have hope. Rise up!       

So many books, old and new, dogeared from so many readings or fresh off the shelf from your local independent bookstore…these are waiting to change you, me, and this world, of that I am sure. So, let’s buy them and borrow them and lend them. Then with a favorite beverage at hand, read. Just read. Read as we lean against the pole on the subway. “Read” as we stream an audio book in the car. Read in bed each night, and pick up where you left off the night before, and turn the pages and be transported somewhere else.

Books have always changed this world, challenged norms, and started revolutions. Think of the Bible or Thomas Paine’s booklet “Common Sense” or “The Diary of Anne Frank.” Books expand our minds. Enlarge our hearts. Shape our souls.

Can books save us?

I think so.

I know so.

God, I hope so.

(Two world changing books I am reading right now: “Gateway to Freedom: The Hidden History of the Underground Railroad" by Eric Foner and "The Ragged Edge of Night" by Olivia Hawker, a story about the German resistance to Nazism set in a small rural village.  What are you reading that helps you change the world? Please let me know!)

(The views expressed in this essay do not necessarily reflect the views of the people and church I serve nor the United Church of Christ.)

The Reverend John F. Hudson is Senior Pastor of the Pilgrim Church, United Church of Christ, in Sherborn, Massachusetts (pilgrimsherborn.org). He blogs at sherbornpastor.blogspot.com and is a resident scholar at the Collegeville Institute at Saint John’s University in Collegeville, Minnesota. For twenty-five years he was a columnist whose essays appeared in newspapers throughout Massachusetts and Rhode Island. He has served churches in New England since 1989. For comments, please be in touch: pastorjohn@pilgrimsherborn.org.

 

 

The War on Minnesota: It Can Happen Anywhere. WAKE UP!

Minnesota: Human Decency and Hotdish    --slogan seen on a T-shirt

Dear Minnesota,

I wanted to write you a note to let you know how heartbroken and angry I am, as are many others here in Massachusetts and New England, about the chaos and violence you are facing right now, all at the hands of ICE and the federal government. The killing of Renee Good, the intimidation and violence toward citizens and non-citizens alike and the targeting of brown skinned people is just so wrong, so unjust, so awful, so Ungodly. As an American and as a person of faith, I’m ashamed of what Uncle Sam claims to be doing in the name of our “homeland,” and I’m embarrassed too for my fellow folks of faith who actually support such human cruelty.

And all of this is happening in one of the most unique and amazing and beautiful parts of our country.  Minnesota is a place and a people unlike anywhere else in the world.

I’ve discovered this truth in the more than thirty-two years I’ve visited there and come to love  the North Star State. I have two beloved Godchildren there. I watched them grow up and play lots of baseball games on warm summer nights and always, there was the after game trip to Dairy Queen. I cherish two fellow ministers there whom I so love and respect for the work they’ve done and still do in the name of God’s love, how they each embody simple human decency, midwestern kindness at its best.  I’ve sharpened my writing skills in Minnesota, with talented fellow creators, and found peace and solace at a Benedictine school in the central part of the state.  I’ve visited up north where the headwaters of the Mississippi begin, in a small trickling stream and then grow into the mighty, mighty big muddy, by the time it gets to the Twin Cities.

Minnesota is my second home, my home away from home; hence my hurt and heartbreak right now.

I wonder if more and more people actually knew just how wonderful are in the land of “You betcha!” and Minnesota Nice (it’s a real thing), maybe they’d have more compassion towards the state. Perhaps Uncle Sam might not attack it as if it is some wild animal that needs to be put down and yes, that is the energy of human destruction and pain that is happening on the ground there.

I know.

I’ve spoken firsthand to a friend whose daughter was pepper sprayed at her high school by ICE agents stalking their human prey.  I’ve heard stories from another friend about driving Somali high school kids to school because their parents are just too rightfully scared of going out in public. Scores of businesses are closed. Schools are going remote. One colleague spoke of what a ghost town his city has become. When people are this scared, of course they stay in and hunker down and just try to survive.

Which means of course if it can happen there it can happen here too. 

Imagine three thousand ICE agents marauding through the streets of Framingham or Lawrence or Springfield, dragging people out of cars, smashing windows, kicking down doors, chasing down folks who are guilty of wanting a better life for themselves and their loved ones. That possibility of an ICE invasion here isn’t just some imagined paranoid fever dream. It’s not an imagined nightmare that could never happen to us.

If our friends in the Land of 10,000 Lakes are not safe, then no one in the United States is safe. Not really. Not anymore. If they can come for them they can come for us and come for the people we love and know as neighbors and friends. Coaches and teachers and gardeners and caregivers. Business owners and fellow church members. Folks who sing in a choir with us and live right next door.    

Do we need to figure out how to deal with immigration in the United States in the largest sense, and make our system sane, organized and up to date? Do we need to ensure that undocumented dangerous criminals are found and sent home?

Absolutely. Yes.

But let’s do so through dialogue, the rule of law, due process, non-violence and simple human care and decency. Not at the end of the barrel of a gun, nor with the weighted heft of a blackjack poised to strike.

Minnesota… you do not deserve this treatment. No one does. Not in America. Not anywhere. And so for those of us who try our best to love all of our neighbors, no one left out…and for those of us who still love our nation and want it to stand up for mercy, welcome and kindness….let us resist, resist, resist, and always with non-violence….

In Minnesota, in Maine, in Massachusetts, anywhere the innocent and the peaceful and the powerless are threatened. God help us all.

(The views expressed in this essay do not necessarily reflect the views of the people and church I serve nor the United Church of Christ.)

The Reverend John F. Hudson is Senior Pastor of the Pilgrim Church, United Church of Christ, in Sherborn, Massachusetts (pilgrimsherborn.org). He blogs at sherbornpastor.blogspot.com and is a resident scholar at the Collegeville Institute at Saint John’s University in Collegeville, Minnesota. For twenty-five years he was a columnist whose essays appeared in newspapers throughout Massachusetts and Rhode Island. He has served churches in New England since 1989. For comments, please be in touch: pastorjohn@pilgrimsherborn.org.

 

Grant Us Courage to Look For Stars on Cold Winter Nights

"Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light; I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.”   --Sarah Williams, “The Old Astronomer to His Pupil” 1868

This is the time of year when it feels as if it is the absolute darkest in the natural world and yes, sometimes in the human world too. Even though winter solstice was two weeks ago, the 24 hour period in this part of the world that is longest night of the year, still, right now just seems to feel darker somehow, at least for me. Maybe you too.  

The holidays are fully ended and as we pack up the lights and take down the tree, as we put away the wrapping paper and the greeting cards and the menorah and the nativity set, it’s kind of like we say to winter, “Ok. You are absolutely here, and right now. No more celebratory December distractions.  It’s cold. It’s dark.”

But then there are the stars, the amazing, miraculous, blazing January stars.  These seem to twinkle more brightly right now.  We stop on a long walk in the woods just past dusk, or we stand in the driveway after getting home from work, feet crunching the snow or we gaze out the window after we’ve put the lights out for bed and then we look out and we look up and….

STARS!

Scores of stars on a frigid evening, dotting the heavens, twinkling and set like diamonds in an ink black winter sky. A sky that that looks so sharp and clear, it takes our breath away.  A January sky somehow that embodies the chill and shadows of this sometimes bleak “what’s next?” time of year. The calendar can feel oh so empty.  Loved ones have returned home. And though many love this time of year for its outdoor pastimes, so many of us might instead feel tempted to just curl up in a ball under the blanket on the couch and declare….

“Wake me up when it’s spring!”   

The world feels shadow filled and cold right now too.  As if two wars weren’t enough, now Creation’s got a third in Venezuela. Just three days ago, millions of people saw their health insurance premiums, once subsidized by Uncle Sam, wither away like melting snow.  Food benefits too.  To heat the house or to feed the family? 

If I had to assign a temperature to the last year in our civic and national political life, I’d say it’s been unmerciful and bone chilling, especially for the poor, and so much of this chill is courtesy of our bullying, bombastic, ice cold commander in chief. The command by Jesus that we are to  care for these, the least of our brothers and sisters, seems to have been forgotten by many of my fellow “religious” folk. For that I am sorry. But still, 2026 beckons.

It is here and we must carry on.

We must continue in faith to look for the stars and yes, especially in the depths of winter.  In a way it is so much easier to live within the promise of spring or the warmth of summer.  It takes courage to push back against the winter cold and to push back against winters of our discontent and yet, this is where many of us find ourselves.

So how to live?

The only path and life I see is to carry on with courage. Godly courage. Gritty courage.  Surprising courage. Personal courage. Communal courage. Prayerful courage, remembering the words of one wise soul, Dorothy Bernanrd, who said that courage is finally just fear that has said tis prayers.

So, just as the stars shine so brightly right now, so too must people of goodwill and people with good hearts shine as well. Pray without ceasing and act for the good without ceasing. We need some light and we need some illumination and we need to be the people who have the guts to light that one candle instead of cursing the darkness.

Williams is right in her poetic courage, and especially in January as the stars come out bright and bold. Look up into heavens and remember and trust…

“Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light; I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.”  

Courage, my friends.  Courage to see the stars.

(The views expressed in this essay do not necessarily reflect the views of the people and church I serve nor the United Church of Christ.)

The Reverend John F. Hudson is Senior Pastor of the Pilgrim Church, United Church of Christ, in Sherborn, Massachusetts (pilgrimsherborn.org). He blogs at sherbornpastor.blogspot.com and is a resident scholar at the Collegeville Institute at Saint John’s University in Collegeville, Minnesota. For twenty-five years he was a columnist whose essays appeared in newspapers throughout Massachusetts and Rhode Island. He has served churches in New England since 1989. For comments, please be in touch: pastorjohn@pilgrimsherborn.org.

 

 

The Best Christmas Gift? Low or No Expectations.

“Expectations were like fine pottery. The harder you held them, the more likely they were to crack.” -Brandon Sanderson, American sci-fi author

What are you expecting to happen as we enter into these coming holidays and holy days filled with so much anticipation and expectations.  How hard are you hanging to your expectations? 

As in “This is what I want to happen.” As in “If this does not happen I will be sad/disappointed/angry/hurt.”  As in the days of old when we were children and after we finished ripping all the wrapping paper off the boxes scattered under the tree, we did not get the gift we hoped for and we were so disappointed.  All that hype and all that anticipation and all those letters to Santa and yet…the expectations we expected to be met were not.

I know I always have to try and let go of my holiday expectations come late December, because if I am not careful I will set myself up for hurt because, you see….my family is not all happy or my family can’t get together because everyone’s schedule is so crazy or I wish I was dating someone right now because that would make Christmas amazing or why can’t I be joyful at Christmas like all those actors in the TV commercials?

Actually, to kill holiday joy or be a killjoy, just do this. Let your expectations rule your heart with no room for serendipity or change or surprise. I know that is always my temptation this time of year. To build it all up and then to expect so, so much. Too much.  

Which is kind of ironic considering that in my faith tradition of Christianity, at the center of our Christmas story is a teenage mom unexpectedly expecting a baby.  Mary, nervously watched over by carpenter dad and first time father Joseph. They were a new family that expected to find a nice room at the Holiday Inn but then had to settle for a drafty room at Motel 6 on the outskirts of Bethlehem.

Joseph expected to have an old fashioned long engagement and to Mary, but the Holy Spirit had other plans.  Expectations not met. The expectations that the one who would come to save his people would be a warrior king, or a triumphant leader of the masses and yet, who actually showed up? A fragile newborn, Jesus. Vulnerable, innocent, completely dependent on his earthy parents for safety and sustenance.

All those worldly expectations dashed. Denied. Expectations turned upside down.  Thwarted.  Like that gift we so coveted but did not receive.

Some things at Christmas and New Years never change I suppose. Expectations can drive us crazy and yes, even break our hearts. That is unless we choose to instead let go of our holiday expectations and let this life unfold as it unfolds. Or as folks in 12 step groups attempt to practice: “Live life on life’s terms.” 

Go into holiday gatherings and holiday gift giving and holiday table seating with no expectations save for….”I wonder what the season has in store for me.”  To let go of expectations means we embrace the now, the what, not the what if. To let go of expectations is to be thankful and to thank God for the simplest of gifts: being loved and loving others.  Having enough food on the table.  A warm bed to sleep in under a roof of safety.  A religious story to live by. A faith community to return home too.

All I want for this holiday is an abundance of trust in whatever may come my way in the next 12 days or so and to let go of any expectations I might be hanging on to for dear life. That’s the gift I hope I will find waiting for me under the tree: few or maybe even no expectations.  Then anything and everything is possible.

Happy holidays and happy holy days, and a blessed New Year too!

(The views expressed in this essay do not necessarily reflect the views of the people and church I serve nor the United Church of Christ.)

The Reverend John F. Hudson is Senior Pastor of the Pilgrim Church, United Church of Christ, in Sherborn, Massachusetts (pilgrimsherborn.org). He blogs at sherbornpastor.blogspot.com and is a resident scholar at the Collegeville Institute at Saint John’s University in Collegeville, Minnesota. For twenty-five years he was a columnist whose essays appeared in newspapers throughout Massachusetts and Rhode Island. He has served churches in New England since 1989. For comments, please be in touch: pastorjohn@pilgrimsherborn.org.