Grace Presbyterian Church

In Preparation

By Sandra Duguid Gerstman

They might have rested here:
A proper Inn — just as daylight
Dimmed, just as pitchers full of water
Nicely were placed 
Beside a bell to be rung —
Maybe for a midwife, devoted
To her work — and fruit
Seeming sweet, polished.

Rooms — Occupied.  It was not
For them.  The keeper indicated
The large door, to their left; the night-
Black window, frightening — somehow
Though in the darkness, shone
Color more inviting, light more
Luminous
Than they had ever known.

© 2020 by Sandra Duguid Gerstman

Advent

WATCH, through darkness of uncreated light.
WAKE! Peer out in wonder and deep yearning.
LOOK! The desire of nations is in sight.
COME to living water with thirst burning.

A young virgin looks toward her wedding bed…
Longing, dreaming of what she has not known.
Passion and joy awaiting her ahead,
Cherished and honored, her life seen and shown.

This Bridegroom shall judge the folk righteously
And reach out with an arm that is not short.
Prepare! Arise! Be doing thoroughly.
Mercy and justice cry out from His court!

A mosaic. Hebrew recollection
Joins a dawning of Christian reflection.

© 2020 by Pamela Leggett

Christmas Memories in New York City

When I was growing up in New York City in the 1950s, our Japanese church on West 104th Street had become a haven for the Japanese first-generation immigrants (the Issei) and their children, (the Nisei). During the War, since public assemblies and meetings were prohibited, the only place where Japanese could meet was the church. Thus, the church became the focal point of not only the worship of God, but a forge for tempering Christian faith and the affirmation of our ethnic background.

For years, in school I was the only Japanese student, but at least on Sunday, I could meet with other Japanese American children and not feel so out of place. Many families came from California, wishing to escape their internment camp experiences and have a fresh start on the East Coast. There were so many children in the Sunday School! Besides the snack of graham crackers and juice, my best memory was the Christmas pageant. The boys were shepherds, sheep, or the wise men; the girls were always typecast as angels or Mary. After some years of just walking on stage, standing with so many other angels, and then walking off, one year I was “promoted” to be the lead angel! Awesome! Finally, a speaking role! I practiced my lines in front of the mirror in my bathroom until I knew them by heart. Fretting that I would forget my lines at the last moment, I kept on repeating my part, “Fear not! For I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people…” On the day of the pageant, butterflies danced in my stomach, but I spoke my lines out loud and clear, even if somewhat robotically, without missing a syllable! When the pageant was finished, who should come through the door into the auditorium but Santa! Plump in the right places and dressed in his red outfit, he handed out candy canes to us with a jolly “Ho-ho-ho!” Excitedly, we children surrounded him, staring with our wide-eyed wonder as we shyly accepted his gift. Inevitably, there was some wise guy kid who, with no respect at all, would tug on his beard to check whether this Santa was an imposter. Despite the white hair and beard, Santa definitely had Japanese eyes and a Japanese accent too!

As far as churches go, right in my neighborhood on the corner of 91st Street and Park Avenue was the postcard-perfect, impressive Brick Presbyterian Church. With its white steeple and huge white columns, it was what I imagined an American Church should be. Though I never went inside, Brick Church appeared in my childhood dream. During the 1950s, at school there were regular fire drills, but also bombing drills. When we heard the bombing drill alert, we had to hide under our wooden desks and cover our heads with our arms. The drills always left me with a sense of fear and dread. In one of my persistent nightmares, I dreamed that NYC was under attack. I always was afraid I wouldn’t be able to get back home if a bomb should fall on NYC. In my dream, somehow, I was able to rush back home safely from school. I tried to get my family to run right away to the Brick Church where there was a bomb shelter. However, my father, in his characteristic unhurried way, continued to read his newspaper, saying there would be enough time after he finished taking his bath!

Every first Sunday in December, Brick Church was also the epicenter for a special Park Avenue holiday tree lighting ceremony. This tradition came about first in 1945, following the end of WWII. According to the ny.com website, Mrs. Stephen C. Clark and some of her friends who had also lost sons and daughters in that war, had the idea to memorialize their children and everyone who had sacrificed their lives. They installed trees in the center “malls” of Park Avenue, stretching for two and a half miles from 48th to 97th Streets. These Park Avenue Memorial Trees were first lighted on December 17, 1945. Beginning in 1982, cherry and hawthorn trees were also strung with lights to celebrate Hanukkah, and the memorial has expanded to celebrate all faiths and the cause of peace. 

Every year, at a few minutes before 6:00, I would walk the half block or so to stand at the corner of Park Avenue already crowded with thousands of people. Across the broad avenue in front of Brick Church, the microphones were set up to broadcast the ceremony. The pastor would welcome everyone to the annual ceremony, then introduced various dignitaries, and the Brick Church children’s choir. In the sea of people and cold winter air, I would stamp my feet to keep warm, feeling more and more impatient. When would my favorite part, the singing, start? Would I know the words of all the carols? How much longer? All of a sudden, the U.S. Army Band, started playing the notes of “Hark! the Herald Angels Sing,” and everyone joined in singing. Then came, “The First Noel,” “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear,” “O Come, All Ye Faithful,” carol after carol, and with each, a growing sense of happiness and anticipation. I was standing among hundreds of people, all strangers, but we were all singing together in harmony of spirit. Gradually, the carols toned down as we came to sing quietly the last one, “Silent Night.” As the final words of “sleep in heavenly peace” quietly trailed off, I shivered with excitement. The culminating moment had arrived! The host pronounced the words, “Let there be light!” and simultaneously, all the trees along Park Avenue lit up at once! That miracle moment never lost its magic no matter how many times I attended the ceremony. It was that wonder-filled moment of light dispelling the darkness of those city streets and pointing to the greater light of Jesus Christ breaking through the dark of all our fears and wandering. Now with all the trees beautifully dressed in their garb of thousands of flickering lights, the crowds dispersed, and we made our way home, singing with true jubilation in heart, “Joy to the World, the Lord is Come!”

© 2020 by Emy Kamihara

Little Hands

Little hands came—
hands that hold the universe,
that hold the world;
hands, little hands
that hold you and me
touching us with love,
the tenderness of newness
birth born from above.
Little hands, God’s little hands
made to reach our hearts,
to reach us for himself,
we, our image
created in his name,
revealed for our forever,we, to be changed
by grace for glory,
joined in the mystery
of God’s story.
Little hands came,
saved for our eternity,
made just for you and me
to trust,
to be touched,
Be held
and in his hands,
we, his creation
to never be the same.

© 2020 by Barbara R. Williams-Hubbard

Some Things Won’t Wait

Israel waited for centuries for the first Advent of the Messiah. The church has been waiting two millennia for the second Advent, and we are still waiting. By God’s design, no one knew when the first would take place, and no one knows when the second will take place. Mystery prevails in God’s setting of both events in Scripture.

There’s no mystery surrounding an event soon to transpire in the life of Grace Church. Paul and Beth Leggett will retire. We know the day and the time. The event is not shrouded in mystery.

What does this have to do with Advent? The word “advent” comes from the Latin adventus, which means arrival or appearance. The term was first applied to the time before Christmas in the late fifth century. If you are interested, there is also a more detailed etymology at Merriam-Webster. Adventus is also the root for other English words, including “adventure.” At the risk of being irreverent, think of this transition as the beginning of an adventure for Paul and Beth Leggett and for Grace Church.

What will Paul and Beth’s adventure look like? Will it include travel and more time with family? Other circumstances may delay those pleasures, but we think they are likely inclusions. Maybe Paul will write a novel, a retelling of a classic Greek myth in twenty-first century idiom. Maybe Beth will write a novel about a straitlaced pastor whose spouse is a comic-book aficionada. Maybe they will take up paragliding. Or safer pursuits, like gardening.

Whatever they choose to include in their adventure, we pray that God will give Paul and Beth many healthy and joyful years together in retirement!

Grace Church will begin and adventure soon, too. God has been gracious to our congregation in allowing us to have Paul and Beth in our midst for so long, and in particular to benefit from his preaching, teaching, and pastoral care. Now we get to examine ourselves (as one might examine oneself during Advent) and ask God to show us what kind of a church we are and what kind of person we will invite to be our senior pastor and join us on our adventure.

Adventure can be exhilarating and enjoyable, and it can test one’s courage thoroughly. Jesus invited His disciples on an adventure: “Come, follow me.” He sent them out on adventures, and they saw Satan fall like lightning (Luke 10:1–12, 17–20).

Thankfully neither the Grace congregation nor the Leggetts are beginning these adventures alone. The God who sent Jesus to die for the world in the first Advent, and who will send Jesus to restore the world in the second, goes with us. Are we ready to trust God to lead us?

© 2020 by Patrick Walsh