Immediately after Jesus was baptized, “Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil.” Now what kind of a Spirit would lead you into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil? While being tempted is not necessarily a pleasant feeling, there is something of deep, spiritual value to be found in being tempted. Learning how to deal with temptation is a necessary part of our spiritual journey. If we do not deal appropriately with things like self-destructive tendencies and lust for power ~ we will not be spiritually mature enough to live and act according to such principles as, “Thy will, not mine, be done on earth as it is in heaven.”

Fear is our most primal response to the wilderness experiences we all occasionally encounter. Imagine if we replace fear with faith as our primary and primal response. Imagine if we give-in to the temptation to be as loving, supportive and positive toward the church of Jesus the Christ as we would be toward Jesus himself? Let us be as forward-facing, hopeful, supportive and faithful as we possibly can be as we embody the spiritual journey of Jesus the Christ ~ and our church ~ as we set our feet on the path that leads ~ where? ~ to resurrection!

DURING THE WEEKLY CHILDREN’S SERMON yesterday at church, I asked the kids why there is no school today. The kids, many of them, made astonishingly insightful and informed statements not only about MLK, but about injustice, struggle, dedication to a righteous cause(s), and many other things. They were surprised, however, to learn that MLK is actually The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. I too am surprised how we so easily dis-remember that Rev. Dr. King was an ordained minister and that large parts of the civil rights movement were birthed from the belly of the church. All in all, Dr. King would be mighty proud of the children of our church. And so am I…

WE PUT A MAN ON THE MOON LIKE 40 YEARS AGO BUT… we can’t come up with a less barbaric way to prep for a colonoscopy? I humbled myself greatly and went through with the routine procedure and think it was a great preventative and preemptive move. I don’t mind if I happen to some day die tragically, but I refuse to die stupid. The prep certainly reminded me that I temporarily live in a physical  body that demands attention ~ even attention to things unseen and problems not  yet realized. Fasting for 36 hours was actually pleasant. I mean, Jesus did it for 40 days in the wilderness so there must be  some merit in it. My experience of colors, my general alertness, my experience of what many homeless people go through every day (hunger) were spiritual experiences that rededicated me to my efforts to assist others. But thank God it is over! Now I will go and do something much simpler than prepping for a colonoscopy ~ like building a rocket ship.

Be careful not to turn doors into walls. People often say insensitive &  downright stupid things. Our response often is to turn and walk away: remembering, visualizing and repeating the supposed affront. But how many times do we walk away when we could have walked through such situations and learned more about the other person and how and why they think the way they do? Rather than protecting our ego, we might try to learn more about theirs.

In the immediate aftermath of the hate crime killing of Marcelo Lucero, our church hosted an opportunity for alleged hate crime victims who did not feel safe going to the Suffolk County Police Department to come to the church to tell their story. The atmosphere was fraught with tension, anger, fear and even hatred, some against me for “fanning the flames of a non-story”. But the police were invited and present that night, as was the Mayor, Department of Justice and many others. We did the hard work of staying the course despite immense anguish and contorted feelings. Using a funeral to make a political statement is repugnant. And it does nothing to contribute to healing that out city, state and nation need. For further information, google: Rev. Dwight Lee Wolter, Congregational Church of Patchogue, Marcelo Lucero.

Last Sunday was our Christmas season service of Lessons & Carols, which is the single day when the congregation sings the most. I noticed, however, that not all were actively participating. Now, everyone is within their right to listen rather than sing. Many people have said to me over the years, “I can’t sing.” I politely disagree, telling them that if they have vocal cords and a mouth ~ they can sing.  Besides, if the spirit is right, the wonderful feeling of a congregation singing together makes occasional sour notes and imperfect timing seem almost utterly insignificant.

That might have been the end of my thoughts about this, except that I saw the same phenomena on December 12^th at the Choral & Brass Concert and Community Sing-Along at the Patchogue Theatre for the Performing Arts.  About 450 (I would guess) of the 750 people in attendance stayed after intermission for the Sing-Along. Many people left for the usual reasons: tired,  have to work tomorrow, “I can’t sing” etc.

But, I suspect, there was another reason: People do not know the songs. When most people do not know how to read music, and they do not know the tune “by heart” ~ what you get is no singing. I do not expect Jews, Muslims and others outside of the Christian faith tradition to know traditional Christmas carols. But now I see that many people within the Christian faith tradition do not know them either.

A few years ago, I sent the words to the first verse of a couple of very familiar Christmas carols (“Away in a Manger”, “What Child is This?” and a couple others) to the homes of the children of the Sunday School. I asked that the parents or other caregivers sing the songs with their children in preparation for the child-friendly, early Christmas Eve service. When Christmas Eve came, they still did not know the songs. One reason, perhaps, is that the families were too busy. But another reason is that the parents and caregivers don’t know the songs either.

This is not necessarily good or bad. It simply is. In this age when many people no longer go to church on an even remotely regular basis, it appears to me that we are on the cusp of losing our traditional Christmas carols as well. My guess is that this year more people have heard “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer” than “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” or even “Silent Night.”

Perhaps this is acceptable  to you. It is certainly acceptable to many others. I too can be rather fatalistic about it and accept it as a sign-of-the-times. But another part of me desires (and will) strive to maintain the familiarity of these classic, traditional and beautiful, beautiful songs.

I truly hope to see “you and yours” at our Christmas Eve services: our 4pm child-friendly service and/or our 10:45 candlelit service of communion, choral anthems, and the congregation singing Silent Night to candlelight. There will be far less congregational singing than last week, and far more opportunity to simply listen. People have gathered in our magnificent and historic church on Christmas Eve where a sense of wonder, awe and mystery have been invoked and experienced for over 120 years and will, hopefully, be evoked and experienced for over 120 more.

The prediction is for rain on Christmas Eve. So what? As the non-religious but catchy, pretty and kind song says, “The weather outside is frightful, inside it’s so delightful…” See you, hopefully, in church on Christmas Eve.

Each year, for the past few years, I invite people from the church who have had a particularly rough year to attend an organ recital and luncheon as my guests. It is a way of letting them know that their pain and suffering is not unnoticed or dismissed.

After a 30 minute recital, we adjourn to our Reception Room with its 30 foot, vaulted ceilings, massive stained glass windows, hand-built balcony and towering Christmas tree. It is a simple, yet glorious luncheon of five or six soups, homemade by five or six loving people. It is served with bread, salad, a variety of desserts, coffee, tea and water. The event, which we keep telling people about (but to little avail) is a respite from the lunacy and labor of Advent and Christmas time. It is a brief hour or so of suspended concern where hurry is unknown; where worry is a foreign currency; where the the value of the music and the meal massively outstrips the cost; and where leftover soups are divvied-up among those eager to savor the soups for supper.

The event is held on two consecutive Wednesdays during Advent. One couple, who had been invited as guests, declined, citing the husband not feeling well. They asked if they could move the invitation to the following Wednesday of the recital and soup series. They were told that of course they could.

The following Wednesday, I hurriedly arrived at the recital and luncheon just ten minutes before it began. I had been at a cemetery where I had presided at the graveside internment service of the aforementioned husband. They were supposed to be eating soup and listening to a holiday organ recital. But we had lowered him into the ground not a half an hour earlier as his widow was in the loving company of a large and close-knit family.

This too is Christmas. It is dark by 4:30 in the afternoon in December in New York. The leaves have fallen from the trees. Sirens wail in the night. The presents this man purchased for his family are still waiting to be unwrapped by their recipients on Christmas morn. This could seem to some like a cruel and bitter fate. But…

A present he gave to me is being unwrapped right now in your presence. It is the gift of knowing that no gift is small or insignificant: the gift of a free bowl of soup to one who is not feeling well; the gift of acknowledging someone’s difficulty keeping pace with the world; the gift of sharing and caring beyond your realm of comfort and familiarity; the gift of the chorus of soup spoons clanging against porcelain bowls in a glorious and vaulted cathedral of love, acceptance and delight.

Thank you for this gift. May you rest in peace. And thank you for this piece of peace that, due to you, now rests in me.

How can you keep Christ in Christmas if he never left. Saying “Keep Christ in Christmas” is like saying “Keep hydrogen in water”. When I partake of a glass of water, I do not think, “I feel like having two parts of hydrogen and one part of oxygen.” I simply seek the source that will quench my physical or spiritual thirst. The earth is 2/3 water. I simply need to find it.

Those who say (or shout) “Keep Christ in Christmas” are well-intended. They feel, fear and fret the commercialization of Christmas. But I really don’t think we are going to have much luck keeping Christ anywhere we implore or demand he be. I have found the magical, mystical spirit of a power far greater than myself at the mall; in a funeral home; in a blues bar; and even in church!

As a matter of fact, Christ has been sleeping on the front steps of my National Registry of Historic Places church with its original Tiffany windows and 35 foot vaulted ceilings and 2,000+ pipe organ for the past several nights. Each night I offer her a bottle of water and each night she graciously accepts it and each morning she packs up her bundle and departs for the day, leaving the unopened bottle of water behind. What is this shivering, incoherent Christ trying to tell me?

We keep Christ in Christmas, methinks, each time we feed and shelter the poor, clothe the naked, visit the prisoners (including those imprisoned by addiction, poverty, loneliness, loss, illness, shame and fear). I don’t look for Christ in the manger in Jerusalem. I look for Christ in the manger of my heart.

I feel blessed more so by what I do than by what I say or think. Fancy that!

All are appalled by the violent, rageful attack of two Asian men by actor, Mark Wahlberg, when he was 16 years  old. He was arrested, convicted and served time. Now he wants  to be pardoned, claiming that it would serve as an incentive for violent youth that their lives can be redeemed and that there is hope for coming to terms with the ravages of their past. But many published reports, such as the one linked below, believe otherwise. But consider this: In the Bible, a man named Saul was a Jewish persecutor, a hunter of Christians who he believed were polluting Judaism with their beliefs and he pursued them zealously. He later changed his name to Paul and became the author of the letters, the epistles and he himself was persecuted and killed as a follower of Christ. He is now referred to most commonly as Saint Paul.

Conversion. Redemption.

Today, many ruthless forgive-them-nots dismiss the conversions of prisoners because they believe such a reversal is inauthentic, impossible, and will never be enough because forgiving a celebrity will set a bad example of favoritism.

I believe in pardon, parole, redemption, forgiveness. Not in all, or even most cases. But what more can a hardened heart require of a violent, angry youth than his confession of wrongdoing and, as this article states, a belief that, “he has devoted the rest of his life to being a model citizen. His movies do not glorify violence (apparently). He has contributed significantly to his community. He has mentored many young boys away from a life of crime. He has demonstrated, in deed, a respect for the police.”

What do you think?  Thumbs up, or thumbs down?

http://theweek.com/article/index/273108/mark-wahlberg-should-not-be-pardoned

Check-out the great press: http://www.longislandadvance.net/articles/2014/12/04/A-holiday-chorus-brass-ensemble-and-community-sing-a-long