November 26, 2025

 

Dear Friends;


It’s Thanksgiving Eve, perhaps the best-smelling night of the year, depending on how you prep for Thanksgiving. I will spend tonight making pies and cranberry sauce and maybe roll dough, and giving that turkey in the fridge the side-eye, wondering how long it will take to cook, really, and how best to spice it.  I see you, turkey!

I love Thanksgiving because it’s so hard to commercialize—there’s no real custom of gift-giving, and the decorating requirements aren’t that much. But there is cost. The turkey, for one, and the sides, and the time it takes to make it happen. Last century’s version of Thanksgiving—Turkey, cranberry sauce or relish, stuffing, green bean casserole, sweet potatoes, pumpkin pie—costs. Not everyone can afford it. And thank God Thanksgiving is a holiday that most people are able to enjoy, because the time it takes to get all that stuff together is also significant. All you home laborers, we see you, too!

And finally, Thanksgiving has avoided the rush of commercial pressure because the whole name is hard to commercialize: gratitude is not about acquisition, but about being content with what is there. Of course, nothing truly escapes the ravening maw of capitalism, and there are plenty of home cooks that will go to bed tomorrow night wondering, “Did they really like it? Why wasn’t it good enough?” But I hope the common practice in many homes, of each person sharing something they are thankful for, will alleviate some of that. Don’t fret—enjoy what it is. Enjoy being together. Give thanks for the turkey, that gave its life, for the friends and family around the table, for the quiet moment, for noise of children—for whatever is, the long walk in the park, for the brilliant human of yesteryear that invented pie. Gifts and blessing of God, we see you!

But did you know that one of the names we have for Holy Communion also means Thanksgiving? The Eucharist means the Thanksgiving. And it resembles our national holiday in some respects—on one hand there is our sacrifice of time, bread, wine, prayer, and praise. On the other we remember the sacrifice Jesus made for us. He is the turkey, you could say. But we begin every Eucharist with a great thanksgiving prayer, recounting the deeds of God from creation and in human history, and then remember its culmination of Christ’s own self-offering, his death and resurrection. Then we ask for the Spirit, that through it we become what we receive, the body of Christ. 

This one moment on a Sunday morning is a meeting of something humans have done since there were humans—giving thanks for life, for food, for loved ones—and something God does eternally, the giving of the Spirit, blessing all of creation with the loving purpose of reconciling all things in heaven and earth to Godself.

And perhaps that’s one more way Thanksgiving resembles the Eucharist. I hope that for those that are estranged, or perhaps in difficulty, with another that you love, that reconciliation can happen. That perhaps for a day you can lay aside your history and enter into a few hours with laughter and feel the potential of history taking a turn. Anything is possible because the resurrection has opened the way of everlasting life. That way is open before us always.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Pastor John

 

 

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November 21, 2025

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Dear Friends,

In the theological field of the last century, a field inhabited by many strange and curious creatures indeed, one particularly weird creature was the theologian Joseph Sittler. Born in Sandusky, Ohio, to a pastor-theologian father, Sittler became the first theologian in the modern era to include nature and ecology in his work. And that’s what made him weird. While all the rest of the theological world was dividing itself between Barth and definitely not Barth, he kind of wandered into the meadow and touched grass. He was not a prolific writer or publisher, but rather spent most of his time speaking, teaching, and preaching, while enjoying beers and Polish sausages at Jimmy’s a bar of great renown near the University of Chicago, where he taught. He also did a lot of memorizing of Shakespeare and poetry and wrote about jazz and other things.

I’m not sure if his work is much studied any more, even though he laid a foundation for an entire branch of contemporary theology, what’s now called the eco-theology, or the theology of the environment, but there is an interesting work of his that I think is still very important, called “Called to Unity,” a lecture he delivered at the assembly of the World Council of Churches in New Delhi, India, in 1961.

Perhaps atypically for his time, he began is lecture with this week’s Epistle reading, an excerpt from the Letter to the Colossians. Part of Sittler’s life work was not to make a great name for himself in the intellectual pantheon, but to really bring the church together. He emphasized the cosmic nature of Christ in this letter: a doctrine of redemption is meaningful only when it swings within the larger orbit of a doctrine of creation. For God’s creation of earth cannot be redeemed in any intelligible sense of the word apart from a doctrine of the cosmos, which is his home, his definite place, the theatre of his selfhood under God, in corporation with his neighbour, and in caring-relationship with nature, his sister.” In other words, as creatures, we humans share unity with the rest of creation. As Paul writes, "For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross.” All things—all creation. All things. All that time wandering around in the meadows and the mountains, all that time touching grass, was good for Joseph Sittler. It broadened his understanding of God’s loving purpose for all of creation. And thanks to him, some of us Western people also had our consciousness expanded, too.

The news about the environment has fallen off the radars of our news organizations lately. Organizations being a bit of a strong word for the information maelstrom we live in today. But it appears that the goal of keeping global warming below 1.5 degrees Celcius, is all but dead. It means that we will have to try now to limit greenhouse gas emission to below two degrees Celcius. That’s the difference between having some coral reefs left or none at all, the difference between ice-free Arctic once a century or once a decade, the difference between 14% of people experiencing extreme heat every one in five years to 37% of people experiencing extreme heat once every five years. It’s a huge difference.

Sittler went out and did his own thing. He focused on Scripture, human community, and the great theater of God’s glory, this creation. His name may very well likely fade into the dark sleep of time, but what he did, and what this Sunday’s text also does, we can do: we can turn our attention to our unity, as a human family, as creatures, as God’s beloved.


See you soon (hopefully tonight to make chrismons!),

Pastor John

 

 

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November 14, 2025

 

Dear Friends,


It’s hard to believe but Thanksgiving is just two weeks away, and Advent starts immediately following it. My daughters have already spotted Christmas trees in windows, and Cornell Weill has one of them in its lobbies. And the texts have taken that Advent turn, that sudden zig from parables and stories to the prophecies of doom. The Gospel text this week has Jesus telling his followers that the big, beautiful temple they see will be thrown down, and not one stone will be left on another. 

It can be hard to imagine these things. Today I had to drive my daughter to school and was listening to the radio. Sometimes a new song would come on, sometimes and old one. I began driving by the new building on Sherman Avenue, where the Packard plant used to be.  I was thinking about how I knew the neighborhood before the building went up, but many children won’t remember it at all, or will grow up in its shadow, or even inside of it, and that people who lived here for decades didn’t know it used to be a Packard showroom and service station, or what a Packard is. When the building rose, you’d be hard-pressed to believe it would become derelict and destroyed in less than a hundred years. Willie Mays used to live in the Heights and play ball at 155th Street. I suppose that in the middle of it, you’d have a hard time thinking the Giants would move to San Francisco, and the Say Hey Kid would be saying goodbye. And for some reason I started thinking about Sade, the great (and unfairly maligned—justice for Sade!) singer. I grew up listening to her songs, but there will come a day when she is gone, and I will be gone, and the things that I imagine will never be, and the things I couldn’t imagine stand in their place.

Jesus’ words to the disciples were meant to help them see through things. The disciples never knew life without the presence of the temple—forty years later it would be destroyed. The temple was a symbol of God’s permanence for them, but Jesus now promised them the permanence of it would disappear. And it is so with everything on earth, where it’s the United States of America or Sade, whether it’s my life or yours. 

I picked a hymn for this Sunday called the Canticle of the Turning, which is a version of Mary’s song, commonly known as the Magnificat. But the composer chose to highlight the social aspect of Mary’s song, and it tastefully weaves in this Sunday’s text with the Magnificat, in which Mary sings that the mighty will fall. Here’s one section of the hymn: “From the halls of power to the fortress tower, not a stone will be left on stone. Let the king beware for your justice tears every tyrant from his throne.” This hymn has the texts talking to each other, and shows us the common thread: like all human works, injustice is doomed. God has willed it so. 

Thus, the texts propel us to faith this Sunday—this powerful hymn, set to a folk tune, pounds the truth straight into our souls. God is permanent, and God’s goodness is permanent, and all the powers dashing themselves against God’s goodness and love will break. It might be hard to imagine, but it’s true. Mary sang it, the prophets testified to it, and Jesus lives according to it. 

See you soon,

Pastor John

 

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November 7, 2025

 

Dear Friends,

This week I’m going to be talking about imagination during my Sunday sermon—how necessary it is, how it is an exercise in both hope and persistence, but also how God’s grace does more than we can ask or imagine.

But before we get there, I’d like to talk to you about our Fall Ball.

You see, this year, someone is going to get murdered.

And the problem is: who did it? I regret to inform you that I am indeed a suspect, but upon the advice of my legal counsel, I can say no more, other than to say unequivocally that I am totally blameless, although no one would blame me if I did it, once they got the whole story.

There are other suspects, of course. Come and find out who they are…plus there will be food, drinks, a small silent auction, raffles, and lots of friendly faces. I promise only one of us is the murderer. Probably. And there will be live music.

You can buy tickets to the Fall Ball on our website, www.osanyc.org, or at the door. Doors open 7pm Saturday night. Cost is $50/ticket, and childcare is provided at $10/child.

Yours,


Pastor John

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October 31, 2025

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Dear Friends,

Don’t forget to Fall Back this Sunday! It’s either the ending or the beginning of Daylight Savings Time. Time, you say, is a flat circle, and the end is the beginning. All I know is that I generally get a bit disoriented whenever one of these days comes around, but at least this is the one you get an extra hour of sleep. And, if you forget to set the clock, you’ll arrive to church in time for choir practice!

One of the ways the Bible speaks about the dead is that they are asleep—asleep, resting, waiting to be woken by Christ. It’s a metaphor, that like children before the first day of summer, we will be sleeping, waiting for the voice that will call us into the light of resurrection. And like the first summer morning, the whole family will be there, all around the table. The sun will be shining, and there will be an intense and wonderful sense of freedom. We could do anything with our friends and the people we love—we will be forever in God’s house.

We celebrate All Saints Sunday this week, remembering those who have fallen asleep, and those who have yet to come. We remember the communion of saints, all of us united through the Holy Spirit into one eternal body. We remember that all of us are sinners, all have fallen short, and yet all of us have received God’s grace. I hope the feeling is one of solidarity, welcome, and praise. Grace makes a way for me, and for you, and for all whom we remember. Christ is our way to this joy. His invitation, his struggle, his welcome—they are for us.

All Saints is a moving service, one full of memory and hope. I hope you can make it.

Pastor John

 

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October 24, 2025

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Dear Friends,

It’s a whole lot starting now—Halloween is next week, Thanksgiving following not too far behind, and then Christmas. It’s a lot of human togetherness, a lot of sugar, and a lot of autumnal traditions. I’ve always loved Fall—I like the weather, the gray skies, the hot coffee and teas. Of all holidays, Thanksgiving, with its ongoing resistance to becoming commercialized out of existence, stands out as a true holiday, a space made to thank God and one another for everything, our existence, our daily bread, and all. Anyway, I’ll reflect more on Thanksgiving as the day approaches, but it’s Fall. It’s finally Fall.

That can only mean one thing that I haven’t mentioned: our Fall Ball on November 8th at 7pm. If you haven’t gotten tickets, please do so on our website. We’re trying an ‘80s Murder Mystery theme this year. I don’t know if Robocop or the lads from Miami Vice will be there, but there will be death, mystery, and lots of good food and cheer. We need some help—primarily we need some donations for our silent auction. So if you have an experience to offer, or something worthwhile, please let us know as soon as possible. I myself will be auctioning off two of my famous ugly but delicious pies (any flavor but chocolate), just in time for Thanksgiving.

On the final day of this month, Reformation Day (aka Halloween), our masons will be doing their final clean up and will leave the property. It’ll be nice to have a building that isn’t leaking everywhere, and that we can have a bit of a break until the next bit of renovating, hopefully. But if you haven’t, please take some time in our garden to look at the new stones and mortar, and to appreciate the sky without side glances at the crumbling rock. It’s been a long road this far—and more awaits, but as the Fall comes, we can celebrate how far we’ve come, and the promise of the changing of the seasons. Renewal comes.


Talk to you soon,

Pastor John

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