Ongoing Response to COVID-19
Weekday Email to Members and Friends – 2021-02-17
Ash Wednesday, February 17th, 2021
A weekday e-mailer from
Matt Matthews
To Members and Friends of
First Presbyterian Church
Champaign, Illinois
Friends,
Ash Wednesday kicks off the Season of Lent. The purpose of Lent, said the early church, was to prepare us for Easter. Resurrection, not to mention the grace and horror of “Holy” Week, requires preparation.
I’ve shared two poems with you to get you thinking about Lent, the Old English word for “Spring.” These poems were entries in the writing contest sponsored by Presbyterian Writer’s Guild. The theme was, simply, “ashes.” Ruth Whitney is the grand prize winner with her poem “Ash Season.” Her bio follows the poem. Louie Andrews submitted “Ash Wednesday Redux.” Louie is the son of my beloved childhood minister. There’s never a time in my life that I didn’t know Louie. There’s something comforting about our association. His mom died last year and they, like so many others, have yet to have a memorial service because of pandemic; he wrote this poem with those delayed services (and delayed grief) in mind.
Lent begins with wilderness, temptation, fasting, mortality, and ashes. From the earth we have come to the earth we shall return. Ashes to ashes, we say. Dust to dust.
This somber season seldom brings me down. If I feel guilt, it is often for enjoying this season so much. Spring, after all, will begin showing herself. Day light is lasting longer. Penitence marks this season for me, but so does joy. Lent reminds me I belong to God. Lent reminds me who (and whose) I am. Lent reminds me of the life after death, of the death I need not fear, which is something younger men can get away with saying since they think they’ll live forever. Lent reminds me life is hard and then we die, but life is worth living for. Life is worth dying for. Lent is an honest season. It pulls no punches. This is not fairy tale, and no one has written a Lenten lullaby.
Jesus didn’t preach damnation but joy. He welcomed children, and when you do that, you are one accustomed to laughter and curiosity. These are some of the stories we always revisit walking with Jesus on the way to Jerusalem.
Yes, Lent ends at a cross. (Easter begins at an empty tomb.) What could be more dismal and fatalistic than a journey to a place called The Skull/Golgotha? I don’t revel in the sin that gripped and still grips the world. I don’t take lightly the people who sought to trick, try, and crucify Jesus. I am ashamed they look just like me, and, perhaps, are sensible in the ways my own twisted self finds things sensible. But I am aware of the light that shatters darkness, the hope that transcends fear, the courage of the one who said, “Follow me,” and God’s grace that includes even me.
Some call this resurrection.
* * *
From noon to 1:00 today, drive through the church alley for our “drive by” imposition of ashes. See below.
Here are the poems.
* * *
ASH SEASON
Ruth Linnea Whitney
Everything was easy then and clear.
The world and I were heady with our holdings.
I sowed my future, breath to breath, cunning
as that lone cock who crowed while they led my Lord
up the stone walk and hoisted him between thieves.
The season turned and ease receded, the world and I
turned gray. My father’s jaw burned to silt in an urn.
My mother’s slender wrists cast over buffalo grass
where she began. My friend saw her boy earn his wings,
his plane and body splinter. Far away, a girl of six knelt
on a land mine she took for saw grass. Hours like these,
the ashes fell.
I kneel now and listen for the fall of ashes.
Listen for the One who knows each spark,
sees each particle alight on earth,
gathers each tiny grave into the enormous dark,
where the return to life is done.
Ruth Linnea Whitney lived two years in Zaire (now DRC) and has spent numerous lengthy sojourns in other countries of Africa with Health Volunteers Overseas. While husband David taught Orthopedic Surgery to local doctors, she taught ESL to AIDS orphans or distributed toys on the hospital children’s ward. These experiences inform her new novel, Mimosa Road, written mostly during The Time of Covid and forthcoming from Adelaide Books. And they inform her debut novel, Slim (Southern Methodist Univ. Press, 2003) for which she received the 2004 First Book Award (previously Angell Award) from the PCUSA Writer’s Guild. Her short stories and personal essays appear in The Threepenny Review, Kaleidoscope, Natural Bridge, Assisi, and elsewhere; poetry in Raven Chronicles and Ancient Paths; journalism in Chicago Tribune, Town & Country, and elsewhere. She serves on the Social Justice/Ecology team of 1st Presbyterian Church, Port Townsend, WA, where, with David, she makes her home.
ruthlinnea@olympus.net
* * *
Ash Wednesday Redux
Louie V. Andrews III
Ash Wednesday, Ash Thursday, Ash Friday.
Tens of hundreds of thousands of ashes,
Daily collected,
Daily distributed,
Daily placed in limbo.
Ashes in a vase,
Ashes on a table,
Remains waiting, and waiting, and waiting.
Ashes resurrected without celebration,
Ashes conveyed without consecration,
Hearts aching and aching and aching.
Palm Sunday the branches are burned.
Palm Sunday the ashes are set aside.
When did Palm Sunday become
Palm Monday and Tuesday and Wednesday,
We wait,
Yearning to assimilate ashes into the breath of God.
We ache,
Eager to accomplish our sacred task.
Ashes to Ashes,
Dust to Dust,
But not today.
Ash Wednesday, Ash Thursday, Ash Friday.
Tens of hundreds of thousands of ashes,
[Written for the millions waiting to celebrate the resurrection of a loved one.]
* * *
News
Please sign up for the book study. (Call the office.)
BOOK STUDY! You are invited to a congregation-wide four session book study.
WHAT? Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates (One World, 2015). A father talks to his fifteen-year-old son about the realities of inhabiting a black body.
- WHEN? Thursdays, February 18 and 25 and March 4 and 11 at 11:00am to 12:00 noon.
- HOW? Sign up by emailing or calling Patty Farthing in the church office. We will meet on-line via Zoom. 217.356.7238 / Patty@firstpres.church . Borrow books from our public library in paper, digital or audio form.
- WHO? Everyone in our congregation and community is invited. Pastor Matt Matthews will facilitate. Our Compassion, Peace, and Justice Committee/ Spiritual Formation Committee will host.
- WHY? Jesus asks us to love each other.
* * *
Everyone is welcomed to a “drive-by” imposition of ashes from noon to 1:00 p.m. on Ash Wednesday, TODAY. Those who feel safe driving through the alley will receive ashes imposed upon their foreheads leaned through open car windows. Matt will be double-masked and will sanitize a gloved hand between congregants. While everyone is warmly invited to drive by, if you are at-risk or otherwise feel unsafe, please stay at home. Come at your own risk. We’ll be as safe as is humanly possible. Why ashes? They remind us who and whose we are. We will gather for a live Zoom service this evening at 7 p.m. led by Eric Corbin.
Email zoom@firstpres.church for the link.
* * *
In-person Worship begins on February 21st at 10:15. After careful discussion and prayerful deliberation, the COVID-19 team and the Session have recommended that we resume limited in-person weekly worship on the First Sunday of Lent, February 21st at 10:15 a.m.
For those of you who feel safe to attend, please pre-register by calling the church office at 217.356.7238. Registration will run from Monday morning to Thursday noon the week before each service. (We are preregistering not only as a means of contact-tracing, but also to keep attendance at or under fifty [50] people, including worship leaders and ushers. That is the limit prescribed by state public health guidelines.)
Remember, your Session is doing everything it can to keep everyone safe during this season of pandemic. While the end may be in sight with local and statewide numbers trending downward, not everyone is vaccinated yet and Covid-19 is still deadly. Some experts guess our nationwide death toll due to Covid may total over 600,000 by later this Spring.
The best way to safeguard against getting Covid is to limit one’s exposure to it and to get vaccinated; while we have prepared as safe a worship environment as possible, and all participants will be required to check in, wear masks at all times, and sit at a distance of six feet from other families, we cannot guarantee that somebody won’t get sick. Those who come to worship come at their own risk.
These in-person services will be, essentially, services of welcome, scripture, prayer, and preaching. These brief—40-minutes, or less—services will include no spoken liturgy, no congregational singing, and no choir. The preacher will speak from behind a plexiglass barrier. There will be no indoor fellowship, and no coffee or food service before or after the service.
This may not sound like a very welcoming or, even, friendly invitation, does it? You know what I mean. So, make wise decisions for you and your family, stay away if you are high risk or don’t feel well, and know that I look forward to “seeing” some of you online at 9:00 a.m. on Sunday (FirstPres.Live), and others of you face to face at 10:15 a.m.
God is good.
* * *
What do these folk have in common? If you guess right, I’ll buy you Jarling’s Custard Cup! So far, about a dozen saints have played the game. (All guesses get ice cream.)
- Astronaut Buzz Aldrin,
- the musical genius Ludwig von Beethoven,
- the football quarterback Terry Bradshaw,
- Winston Churchill,
- the singer Judy Collins,
- Monica Seles the tennis pro who holds the longest undefeated streak—33 matches—for the Australian Open,
- Abraham Lincoln.
* * *
Humor (Hard times really need godly laughter):
Joke from long ago, about airlines that no longer exist.
Conversation between Pilot and Air Traffic Control (ATC)”
Pilot: What time is it?
ATC: Who is asking?
Pilot: Why does it matter?
ATC: Well, if you are Pan Am I say oh-nine hundred. If you are TWA, I say 9 am. If you are Ozark, I say Tuesday.
Good Word:
The 23rd Psalm
The Lord is my shepherd.
LET US PRAY
Shepherd me, O Lord.
I cannot make the journey alone, and I don’t like betrayal by kisses, the injustice of mob rule. I don’t like the mob in me. And the shame for only being Your Son’s fair weather friend. I’m not afraid of the journey so much as I am of myself.
Shepherd me, O Lord.
* * *
Much, much love to you all.
Matt Matthews
Cell: 864.386.9138
Matt@FirstPres.Church
* * *
Daily Lenten Devotion from The Presbyterian Outlook
As a Lenten devotional discipline this year, you are invited to pray with
Scripture as a way of discerning what God is calling you to be and to do
during this season.
John Calvin spoke of the Bible as the “lens of faith,” likening it to a pair of eyeglasses that enables us to see the world with clearer vision as God’s creation. As theologian Serene Jones notes in “Inhabiting Scripture, Dreaming Bible” (a chapter in “Engaging Biblical Authority”), this was Calvin’s way of saying that Scripture “brings clarity and focus to all aspects of our lives” and “lets us see what we otherwise would not.” In
short, once we have these eyeglasses on, “there is nothing, absolutely nothing, that escapes their vision-framing power.”
PRACTICES:
• Scripture as prayer: One of the ways we can “put on” Scripture is by praying or meditating contemplatively on a biblical text — slowly and contemplatively reading it as a prayer to God. Indeed, this is an ancient and robust practice of prayer. When we pray with Scripture, we ponder deeply the words and images of the text. Using our imaginations, we
can even enter into the world of the text in order to discern God’s wisdom.
• Movement of God: Praying with Scripture in this way can be an aid – a focusing lens – to help us discern the movement of God in our personal lives and in the life of the world around us. Throughout the season of Lent, you will be invited to pray with one passage from Scripture each day and prompted to reflect on what it is disclosing to you about movement toward God and movement away from God in your life.
• Prayer journal: You may find it helpful to keep a journal in which you briefly note what surfaces in your prayer time, so that over the course of the Lenten journey you can track the movements of God’s Spirit in your midst. Also, consider the prayer focus of the week as you journal and pray.
• Bringing the Bible and hymns to life: Each week, a hymn will be suggested for worship and reflection. During your devotional time each day, read the words (or sing or play the hymn!) and reflect on the truths the text reveals to you. (If you don’t have a hymnal, you can Google the hymn or visit hymnary.org.) Likewise, consider the action prompt each day and note how the Spirit nudges you to fulfill it.
FEBRUARY 17, 2021
Ash Wednesday, FEBRUARY 17, 2021
PSALM 51:1-10
The first biblical text for our Lenten journey is Psalm 51, which is traditionally read on Ash Wednesday. Psalm 51 is striking not only for its honesty about sin, but also for its confidence in God’s merciful love amid the brokenness in our lives and in the world. The psalm is a prayer – a penitential prayer – and you are invited to pray Psalm 51:1-10 in a translation of your choosing.
Practice: Read the psalm slowly two or three times and ponder deeply its images, noting which ones capture your attention. Such images can be points at which God is speaking to you and focusing your attention.
Reflect on the images for at least five minutes (longer if you desire). As you do so, sense the movements of your spirit and the emotions that they evoke — both movements toward God and away from God. Movements toward God could include, for example, a sense of hope, peace or love that surfaces. Movements away from God might include a sense of guilt or despair.
Journal: Note these movements in your journal so that you can review them during your Lenten journey.
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Weekday Email to Members and Friends – 2021-02-16
Pray with Presbyterian Education Board (PEB) in Pakistan and/or join the Pakistan study group which meets every Wednesday afternoon from 1:30-3:00: National and International Concerns FOPEB and PEB Concerns Personal Concerns Healing Praise and Thanks
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Weekday Email to Members and Friends – 2021-02-15
Monday, February 15th, 2021
A weekday e-mailer from
Matt Matthews
To Members and Friends of
First Presbyterian Church
Champaign, Illinois
Friends,
I begin today with fiction. News follows. Shrove Tuesday, as you know, is the feasting/party day before the weighty truth of Ash Wednesday.
Everyone is welcomed to a “drive-by” imposition of ashes from noon to 1:00 p.m. on Ash Wednesday, February 17th. Those who feel safe driving through the alley will, leaning through open car windows, receive ashes imposed upon their foreheads. Matt will be double-masked and will sanitize a gloved hand between congregants. While everyone is warmly invited to drive by, if you are at-risk or otherwise feel unsafe, please stay at home. Come at your own risk. We’ll be as safe as is humanly possible. Why ashes? They remind us who and whose we are. We will gather for a live Zoom service that evening at 7 p.m. led by Eric Corbin.
* * *
A Mostly True Account of
A Family Trip to Texas
A short story of fiction for the Eve of Shrove Tuesday
by Matt Matthews
John Mark, our youngest kid, is used to hand-me-downs and has always had to claw for the spot light. I’ve admired how he’s grabbed it, mainly by way of his winsome smile, which he uses like a chainsaw, and his humor. Often his two older brothers get the attention. Joseph is in college and Benjamin is in tenth grade. John Mark, almost fourteen, is in eighth. He’s outgrown melting down into tears when he doesn’t get what he wants, and he’s too smart to pick fights with his much larger and sometime humorless sibs because they can beat the pudding out of him and often do. His mom and I operate more and more on parental autopilot these days. We let our three sons work it out for themselves, which is a more politically correct way of saying, “May the best son win.” John Mark ends up on top about a third of the time, so there’s no need for me to worry, but sometimes I do.
Because I’m a father and he’s the youngest, I do worry. I was particularly mindful of John Mark feeling left out on our trip to the Texas in-laws. Joseph remained at college, but the younger two and my wife and I pasted on smiles for the thousand mile drive this spring break. I wanted to do my part in letting John Mark shine. Some fathers make such calculations. I’m sure the saying that “I love my kids uniquely not equally” is nonsensical to the kid holding the short end of the stick. Some fathers ponder such disparity. Others keep up with basketball scores.
On the arduous trek across mile after mile of interstate blandness, I feared Ben would hog the spot light and John Mark would have no choice—again—but to hug the shadows. Benjamin, at sixteen and in the final stages of his driving instruction, would be behind the wheel a significant portion of our 34-hour round-trip passage from South Carolina. John Mark would be off my radar during much of this marathon. While Ben managed driving duties, I’d be sitting shotgun making Zen-like observations about spent tread in the roadway and various other hazards posed by dozing truckers, the legally blind, and other vehicular maniacs. Calmly, I’d be offering gentle encouragement for my son to stay between the lines despite video-gamesque obstacles while maintaining interstate speeds approaching mach one.
The second reason I thought John Mark might be shoved to the side was that Ben brought guitars and his mandolin and practically vibrated with eagerness to jam with Uncle Alan, show off his developing skills, and learn a few new licks. John Mark is musical but is not the musical fanatic Ben is blossoming into. I imagined JM might find himself on the outside of that circle.
We got to Texas in one piece physically at four o’clock on Monday afternoon, an hour early. Benjamin and I had white line fever. I fell into the hammock on the porch outside and skidded hard into a nap. I awoke to brother-in-law Alan standing above me with his son Jake in his arms. “There’s your Uncle Matt,” Alan said gently.
“Your favorite uncle,” I chimed in sleepily.
Jake smiled then squirmed to go back inside. My glasses had fallen off, so color and light were muted, and everything blurred at the edges. I was left alone with the purpling twilight sky. Before I struggled for the hammock’s release, I contented myself with the chirping of what I reckoned to be warblers or titmice, yellows and grays flaring in and out of the birdfeeder.
I should have taken this serene moment as invitation to relax my hyped, fatherly protection. It wasn’t my job to make everyone enjoy this trip. But the lines often blur between what I do and do not have control over, and worry is a form of power that I often abuse. I should have known that John Mark didn’t need me, at least not for that. John Mark would fend for himself winningly, which, of course, he did.
He proved that in a big way on our trip home.
Since it was only one hour out of the way, we stopped in New Orleans. I wanted my boys to be exposed to live Dixie Land music. I say exposed because I didn’t want them just to hear it or see it. A DVD at home would suffice if that were the case. I wanted them to be there. I wanted them to soak it in. Ben is in the high school jazz band, and when he’s not playing guitar, he’s in the alto sax line. John Mark, much less interested in his middle school band, plays clarinet; at home he plays around on the piano. I wanted these guys to see jazz up close. Preservation Hall would be the perfect place.
Leroy Jones, the night’s band leader, sang and beamed an infectious smile when he wasn’t blowing his dulled, bronze-colored trumpet. He sang without a mic. An ancient man on tenor sax played buttery smooth riffs and smiled like a kid as the crowd clapped and hooted after each solo. A young white woman played piano and held her own during her adequate solos. When the smiling Jones lifted his trumpet, he let us have it like machine gun fire and the mournful trombone followed with a kind of healing that made us beam and sway.
Most of us could see the front door that entered into the hallway stage right. Most of us, then, could also see the young cop when he entered. He chatted amiably with the staff who waited the door. At first, I thought it was just a drop-in visit on a beat that needed a dose of good music. If I were a cop I’d stop here as often as I could. But the mellow hippies at the door were getting antsy. And the way he spun his silver handcuffs around his finger made me wonder if something was going down.
As the band soaked up the applause for Whenever You’re Lonesome, the lady at the door crept into the spot light and whispered to the drummer. He raised his eyebrows, leaned forward and whispered a few words to the bandleader, then got up and left for the hall. He stood mainly out of sight while I watched the cop apologetically put the cuffs on and lead his bowed shadow out. Meanwhile the lady on trombone spoke quietly with the hippies at the door as if to say, Really? A note was passed to Leroy Jones. He read it twice, like a man who needed glasses, handed it back, then smiled to the audience.
“It seems we have lost our drummer,” he said.
Everybody broke up.
“Thanks to Facebook, the police always know where we are. And it’s difficult to hide when you’re playing a gig at Preservation Hall.”
They finished with two more songs, and while the drummer was good and was missed, there was nothing incomplete about this deeply heartfelt music.
We lingered without speaking in the few shops still open near the Cathedral. On Decatur, I bought a dozen beads and a box of Café Du Monde beignet mix. John Mark took the black plastic bag and twirled it clockwise and counter-clockwise around his hand like the cop did with his silver cuffs. Busloads of drunken young adults stumbled towards Bourbon Street. We stood back and watched.
On the mile-long walk from the French Quarter to our hotel in the Warehouse District, Rachel who is not directionally brave, pointed down a dark side street. It’ll be quicker if we go this way, she said. Besides, who wanted to go back the way we came? We’d see new things by going home another way. This logic made sense, but the narrow road opened like a hole in the sagging building facades around it. The wise men came to mind. They went home another way after their visit to the manger. But their detour was designed to take them out of harm’s way, not into it. This dark street looked like a get-into-trouble-free card. Perhaps we should have known better. Heads still nodding with music, we obediently followed my wife. It was just chilly enough that we had to walk briskly to stay warm. We launched off the curb and followed Rachel like lemmings across Canal into the yawning shadow of this nondescript side street. The dark windows may have concealed eyes.
I took up the rear mainly because to walk faster would have required speeding up the sound track still playing in my head. At midblock a thin man charged from a doorway. He screeched at us, his eyes riveted on Rachel. He shoved her backwards into Ben. Like a linebacker, Ben caught her in his arms and steadied her back onto her feet. I guessed that part of him was the man who wanted to step between her and the yelling skinny man; another part of Ben just stood there wanting his mother—the adult, after all—to defend him. Despite his sized twelve shoes, he was still a child.
I stood frozen ten paces behind them, frozen and watching. I couldn’t believe what was happening. This was a dark night and a darker street. I should have known better. We stood in a ragged line. Rachel up front, Ben close behind, then John Mark, then me rooted into the sidewalk farthest from the action. The skinny man may have been on drugs or scared or both. He wasn’t a professional or he would have done his damage, taken what he wanted, and been halfway gone by now. He was wiry-thin, possibly strong, and raving, spittle arching from behind yellowed teeth. He could have been sixteen or sixty. Adrenaline and violence obscure time, age, perspective. “Hey, hey, hey” he shouted to Rachel. “Give me your purse.”
My brain lurched into gear even though my body remained frozen. I wanted to point out that my wife wasn’t even carrying a purse. Oddly, a primordial part of my brain counseled to keep quiet lest his vehemence shift from her to me.
“Give it to me laaa-dy.”
The force of his words punched Rachel backwards. Each word was an inch.
“Hey!” somebody growled.
I looked around expecting to see a circle of them emerging from the walls to finish the job the skinny man had started. That it was John Mark’s voice upped the alarms going off in my body. John Mark’s voice? John Mark? Nothing was computing.
The skinny man whirled from Rachel to our fragile, youngest child.
“Yeah you,” John Mark shouted. He jabbed the air with the forefinger of his left hand. “I’m talking to you.” He twirled his plastic bag around his right fist.
The skinny man took a stagger-step to John Mark, but John Marked closed the distance with two quicker, smaller steps. He raised the bag over his head like a sling and swung it towards the man’s angry face. The bag and possibly the corner of the 28-ounce box of beignet mix glanced off the man’s upper cheek into his right eye socket. He winced. I winced. Unblinking, John Mark swung again as the man stumbled sideways off the stone curb. John Mark stepped down and spun the bag above his head for a third strike.
The box of beignet mix had broken open. Wheat and barley flour plumed in the air like a dirty bomb. The now-astonished man hit the damp pavement and scrabbled on his injured side as John Mark leaned forward for a fourth, forceful blow. Again, he found his mark. Clots of flour spurted out, blinding the man, choking him. Flour, buttermilk, salt, sugar, baking soda, and artificial flavoring bloomed upwards. The night air suddenly smelled like Shrove Tuesday. The man choked and whimpered. Pallid, wretched, ill, he crossed his raised arms for protection. Like a wounded white leopard, he could still pounce. What was I waiting for? Why was I still frozen? He could still hurt us, or worse.
By now something exploded from my chest and I could finally move. I grabbed John Mark, who had hit the man two more times, and screamed to the others, “Run!”
I pulled John Mark away, but he struggled against me, like he didn’t want to go, like he had started a job that he wanted to finish. I pulled harder. He dropped the bag and we sprinted to catch up with the others.
In another world around the nearest corner, an upscale boutique hotel opened into a crowded patio restaurant. Gas lamps lit the wrought iron, the patterned brick sidewalks, and the colorful first floor flowerboxes. Potted palms guarded the arched doorway. Tuxedoed doormen and patrons looked our way.
“We’ve been robbed,” Rachel blubbered, though that wasn’t true at all. We had been attacked but nothing had been taken except a box of beignets and a wad of one-dozen colored, plastic beads. And they weren’t exactly taken, so much as used in our defense. They were the detritus of battle, not the booty of a successful robbery.
“Where’s John Mark?” Rachel choked, hoarsely, looking wide-eyed over my shoulder. It seemed impossible, but her face blanched an even whiter shade of pale.
I had released my grip on his shirt. I turned and he wasn’t behind me. Ben and I bolted instinctively for the corner. When we rounded a dead light pole into the ominous dark, we stopped. John Mark was walking towards us—sauntering, really—down the center of the street. He was wearing that smile of his, the smile that I’ll never underestimate again. Wadded in his right hand he held that black, plastic bag. As he stepped into the light, and the burly doormen bumped to a stop behind us, he lifted the bag like Excalibur. The last of the beignet mix filtered like Louisiana voodoo powder to the street.
“Can you believe it?” John Mark said. “That guy almost got away with our beads.”
# # #
NEWS, et cetera . . .
Please sign up for the book study. (Call the office.) It’s a serious topic, but I hope we’re going to have fun. Is that all right? To have fun talking about serious stuff? I hope so. There’s nothing wrong about holy laughter. See you at the book study.
BOOK STUDY! You are invited to a congregation-wide four session book study on race.
- WHAT? Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates (One World, 2015). A father talks to his fifteen-year-old son about the realities of inhabiting a black body.
- WHEN? Thursdays, February 18 and 25 and March 4 and 11 at 11:00am to 12:00 noon.
- HOW? Sign up by emailing or calling Patty Farthing in the church office. We will meet on-line via Zoom. 217.356.7238 / Patty@firstpres.church . Borrow books from our public library in paper, digital or audio form.
- WHO? Everyone in our congregation and community is invited. Pastor Matt Matthews will facilitate. Our Compassion, Peace, and Justice Committee/ Spiritual Formation Committee will host.
- WHY? Jesus asks us to love “the other. A first step is listening to understand “the other”.
* * *
In-person Worship begins on February 21st at 10:15. After careful discussion and prayerful deliberation, the COVID-19 team and the Session have recommended that we resume limited in-person weekly worship on the First Sunday of Lent, February 21st at 10:15 a.m.
For those of you who feel safe to attend, please pre-register by calling the church office at 217.356.7238. Registration will run from Monday morning to Thursday noon the week before each service. (We are preregistering not only as a means of contact-tracing, but also to keep attendance at or under fifty [50] people, including worship leaders and ushers. That is the limit prescribed by state public health guidelines.)
Remember, your Session is doing everything it can to keep everyone safe during this season of pandemic. While the end may be in sight with local and statewide numbers trending downward, not everyone is vaccinated yet and Covid-19 is still deadly. Some experts guess our nationwide death toll due to Covid may total over 600,000 by later this Spring.
The best way to safeguard against getting Covid is to limit one’s exposure to it and to get vaccinated; while we have prepared as safe a worship environment as possible, and all participants will be required to check in, wear masks at all times, and sit at a distance of six feet from other families, we cannot guarantee that somebody won’t get sick. Those who come to worship come at their own risk.
These in-person services will be, essentially, services of welcome, scripture, prayer, and preaching. These brief—40-minutes, or less—services will include no spoken liturgy, no congregational singing, and no choir. The preacher will speak from behind a plexiglass barrier. There will be no indoor fellowship, and no coffee or food service before or after the service.
This may not sound like a very welcoming or, even, friendly invitation, does it? You know what I mean. So, make wise decisions for you and your family, stay away if you are high risk or don’t feel well, and know that I look forward to “seeing” some of you online at 9:00 a.m. on Sunday (FirstPres.Live), and others of you face to face at 10:15 a.m.
God is good.
* * *
Holy God, walk with us through these cold, dark days,
even as we dream of the greening of our parks,
the thawing of our clenched lives,
into the springtime of your love.
From ashes to empty tombs,
guide our every step, faltering,
save for your
redeeming
grace.
A
M
E
N
.
.
.
Much, much love to you all.
Matt Matthews
Cell: 864.386.9138
Matt@FirstPres.Church
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Weekday Email to Members and Friends – 2021-02-12
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Weekday Email to Members and Friends – 2021-02-11
Thursday, February 11th, 2021
A weekday e-mailer from
Matt Matthews
To Members and Friends of
First Presbyterian Church
Champaign, Illinois
Friends,
ESL “Café” is TODAY. This Zoom gathering enabled our immigrants to have conversation partners. When you want to speak a new language, you should practice, right? So please don’t underestimate you ability to help brothers and sisters better learn and speak English. Join us for a conversation. Our fantastic ESL director, Jeanette Pyne, will lead us; last time, she had a funny game we played. Let’s BE the church together.
If you have any questions, please email the ESL Director, Jeanette Pyne, at jeanette@firstpres.church.
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Please sign up for the book study. (Call the office.) It’s a serious topic, but I hope we’re going to have fun. Is that all right? To have fun talking about serious stuff? I hope so. There’s nothing wrong about holy laughter. See you at the book study.
BOOK STUDY! You are invited to a congregation-wide four session book study on race.
- WHAT? Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates (One World, 2015). A father talks to his fifteen-year-old son about the realities of inhabiting a black body.
- WHEN? Thursdays, February 18 and 25 and March 4 and 11 at 11:00am to 12:00 noon.
- HOW? Sign up by emailing or calling Patty Farthing in the church office. We will meet on-line via Zoom. 217.356.7238 / Patty@firstpres.church . Borrow books from our public library in paper, digital or audio form.
- WHO? Everyone in our congregation and community is invited. Pastor Matt Matthews will facilitate. Our Compassion, Peace, and Justice Committee/ Spiritual Formation Committee will host.
- WHY? Jesus asks us to love “the other. A first step is listening to understand “the other”.
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News
Our Annual Meeting is THIS Sunday February 14th at 10 o’clock. Join us for a quick report. We’ll also vote on the pastors’ terms of call. Thanks for joining us. Here’s the link…
https://firstpres.church/
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Hard copies of the Annual Report will be available in the plastic holders outside the door at the alley entry of the Education Building on Friday. If you want a hard copy, you may drive by the alley, and find hard copies there. Also, PDF copies are available on our website at this link: https://firstpres.
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Everyone is welcomed to a “drive-by” imposition of ashes from noon to 1 p.m. on Ash Wednesday, February 17th. Those who feel safe driving through the alley will receive ashes imposed upon their foreheads leaned through open car windows. Matt will be double-masked and will sanitize a gloved hand between congregants. While everyone is warmly invited to drive by, if you are at-risk or otherwise feel unsafe, please stay at home. Come at your own risk. We’ll be as safe as is humanly possible. Why ashes? They remind us who and whose we are. We will gather for a live Zoom service that evening at 7 p.m. led by Eric Corbin.
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In-person Worship begins on February 21st at 10:15. After careful discussion and prayerful deliberation, the COVID-19 team and the Session have recommended that we resume limited in-person weekly worship on the First Sunday of Lent, February 21st at 10:15 a.m.
For those of you who feel safe to attend, please pre-register by calling the church office at 217.356.7238. Registration will run from Monday morning to Thursday noon the week before each service. (We are preregistering not only as a means of contact-tracing, but also to keep attendance at or under fifty [50] people, including worship leaders and ushers. That is the limit prescribed by state public health guidelines.)
Remember, your Session is doing everything it can to keep everyone safe during this season of pandemic. While the end may be in sight with local and statewide numbers trending downward, not everyone is vaccinated yet and Covid-19 is still deadly. Some experts guess our nationwide death toll due to Covid may total over 600,000 by later this Spring.
The best way to safeguard against getting Covid is to limit one’s exposure to it and to get vaccinated; while we have prepared as safe a worship environment as possible, and all participants will be required to check in, wear masks at all times, and sit at a distance of six feet from other families, we cannot guarantee that somebody won’t get sick. Those who come to worship come at their own risk.
These in-person services will be, essentially, services of welcome, scripture, prayer, and preaching. These brief—40-minutes, or less—services will include no spoken liturgy, no congregational singing, and no choir. The preacher will speak from behind a plexiglass barrier. There will be no indoor fellowship, and no coffee or food service before or after the service.
This may not sound like a very welcoming or, even, friendly invitation, does it? You know what I mean. So, make wise decisions for you and your family, stay away if you are high risk or don’t feel well, and know that I look forward to “seeing” some of you online at 9:00 a.m. on Sunday (FirstPres.Live), and others of you face to face at 10:15 a.m.
God is good.
* * *
What do these folk have in common? If you guess right, I’ll buy you Jarling’s Custard Cup!
- Astronaut Buzz Aldrin,
- the musical genius Ludwig von Beethoven,
- the football quarterback Terry Bradshaw,
- Winston Churchill,
- the singer Judy Collins,
- Monica Seles the tennis pro who holds the longest undefeated streak—33 matches—for the Austrailian Open,
- Abraham Lincoln.
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Humor (Hard times really need godly laughter):
What did the beach say as the tide came in?
Long time, no sea.
(I need jokes!!)
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Good Word:
The 23rd Psalm
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
Let us pray
Holy God
In
your
wide mercy
f
o
r
g
i
v
e
and redeem what I have been,
help
me
amend
what I am,
and
direct
what I shall be,
so that I may
delight in your will,
and walk in your ways,
to the glory of
your
holy
name.
* * *
Much, much love to you all.
Matt Matthews
Cell: 864.386.9138
Matt@FirstPres.Church
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