From Dust You Come, and to Dust You Shall Return.

Each year on Ash Wednesday, these familiar and grounding words land in my soul in the softest of places. A reminder of my mortality, these words can be at once discomforting as well as soothing: discomforting because we humans do not like to think of death, and soothing because they remind me that I have a place of belonging in the natural order of things: to God as God’s precious child, to the earth from which we all came, and to the human family. As we gather together as a body of faith, we proclaim and bring into our hearts once again the ancient words from Genesis 3:19: From dust you come, and to dust you shall return.  

This coming Wednesday, February 18, we will mark ourselves with ashes and these words during two worship services: a child-friendly service at 5:30 p.m. in the Chapel, and a traditional service at 7:00 p.m. in the Sanctuary.

Of course, Ash Wednesday also marks the beginning of Lent. Historically, the focus has been on confession and expressing our reliance on God’s grace. As The Rev. David Gambrell writes in the Book of Common Worship of the PC(USA), “Ashes are an ancient symbol of repentance, sorrow, and sacrifice. Traditionally, the ashes for this service are made from the palm branches of the previous year; thus, the ashes and psalm together frame the season of Lent.”

While many churches today simply order ashes online, our practice at BMPC is to engage the age-old practice of burning last year’s dried-up palms on the Sunday prior to Ash Wednesday, and then to mark our foreheads (or hands for those who prefer) with the ashes.

As you receive the ashes on Wednesday, I invite you to remember last year’s Palm Sunday celebration and to reflect on God’s promise of love throughout the cycle of life. Similarly to the way that palm fronds were once vibrant forms of life, which then died and became something new in the form of ashes, we ourselves live vibrant lives, and then die, and then are resurrected to new life. On Ash Wednesday, there is a sense, too, that even as we are living, we “die to our old selves” and have the opportunity to be renewed in the presence of God and the community of faith.

Information about the 5:30 p.m. service can be found here. The 7:00 p.m. service will feature the artwork and poetry of Jan Richardson, an artist, writer, and ordained minister in the United Methodist Church. I invite you to visit her website The Painted Prayerbook and search for “Ash Wednesday” in order to peruse her artwork and poetry as a way of preparing your heart and mind for worship on Wednesday. I also invite you to read and contemplate the scriptures for Wednesday in advance: the 5:30 p.m. service will focus on Micah 6:6-9 and John 1:35-50, and the 7:00 p.m. service will focus on John 3:16-17 and Psalm 51:1-15.

Friends, it is from dust that you come, and it will be to dust that you return. I look forward to worshiping with you on Wednesday.

Swelling With Pride

This Sunday, February 8, is Youth Sunday, and since December, the BMPC youth have been hard at work dreaming, praying, planning, learning, and writing. Youth Sunday at BMPC is a high holy day, and they can feel it. These are extraordinary young people, and I am so proud of them.

A month ago, I met with the preachers – Peter McConnell, Finley McGuirl, Andrew Quigley, and Elizabeth Rothman – to discuss their initial ideas and desired scripture passages from which to preach. They did their best work, and so did the Holy Ghost, by which I mean a theme emerged almost immediately: God is with us. God is with us in worship and music, in our various identities, in our suffering, and wherever we go from here.

From that theme, the middle and high school Sunday school classes got to work throughout January, writing the call to worship, an affirmation of faith, pastoral prayer, and prayers of dedication and illumination. Our Wednesday night Student Serve crew wrote the prayer of confession and met with James Kealey to select hymns and anthems that would support this central message.

Meanwhile, the preachers got together every Wednesday to run their sermons, offer each other supportive feedback, and find their voices in the pulpits of the chapel and sanctuary. They met with John Willingham to learn more about the task and craft of preaching every single Sunday. Last night was our dress rehearsal, and they are ready.

I’m going to repeat myself: the youth of this church are extraordinary young people, and I am so proud of them.

Come to worship this Sunday to support them, to learn from them, and to meditate on all the ways God is with you.

There is one more thing: The youth specifically asked to sing “Crowded Table” by The Highwomen, which has become one of their favorite songs over the last several years. And so, it will be our offertory anthem at the 10:00 a.m. service this Sunday. If you love this song (you should!) and want to sing it, join the one-time-only Youth Sunday Mass Choir. We are rehearsing in the sanctuary at 9:20 a.m. on Sunday, and we would love to have you.

Sacred Cows, Proud Peacocks, and an Eager Beaver: Learning the Heart of BMPC

One of my primary tasks as Interim Senior Pastor is to learn about you. Certainly, there is a formal history and a description of this congregation’s vision as articulated in the most recent mission statement. Both of those documents tell me some important things. There are bylaws and titles for each of the committees and task forces here as well. I suspect some of those groups have an articulated vision, too. All of those pieces help me understand something about the ethos here, but what are the underlying norms and values? I want to learn those pieces, too.  

On Sunday, February 1, there will be an opportunity for you to share such perceptions with me. Immediately after the Congregational Meeting, I will be hosting a gathering in Congregational Hall where, through the use of animal imagery, you will be invited to tell me more about BMPC. What are the sacred cows here, and what is the elephant in the room that needs to be discussed? What is it about this church that makes you proud as a peacock, and what are the kinds of things that you think cause this body of believers to be as stubborn as a donkey?  

At the gathering, you will be given a stack of 4x6 cards on which you can write your answers to such questions and a couple more that draw from old expressions about animals. There is no limit to what you can share about each of those clichés. Nor will there be a group discussion where other members can dispute your perceptions. Rather, the gathering is designed to be a time where each of you helps me learn more about the diverse views of BMPC among its members and friends. There will be a supply of push pins, too, where, after writing your perceptions on the cards, you will be invited to walk up to bulletin boards around the room and add your insights to those of others.  

Once the exercise is complete, a member of our staff will collect and compile your comments. Certainly, that event will not be the only time that you can offer those perspectives. If you cannot join us on that morning or think of other insightslater, email your perceptions to me, and I will add them to the list. Such insights will help me continue to learn about BMPC and be invaluable as I seek to prepare the landscape for your next installed Senior Pastor and Head of Staff. They will also give me fodder for future sermons and other tasks. Time will tell.  

I am excited to learn more about this congregation and can’t wait to hear what you think. One might even say that I am an Eager Beaver!   

A Busy Month for Code Blue

This January marks the third year that BMPC has participating in hosting the Lower Merion Code Blue shelter in our Atrium and Gym each night of the month when the real feel outside is 32 degrees or below.

In past years, I would often orient volunteers and then head home to my manse next door, hoping that at least one guest would show up that night to make all of the volunteers’ effort and hours worth it. This year, that has never been a concern.

Each night we have been open, we have had at least three guests, and on at least one night, we have filled every bed. Our connections with the Lower Merion Police have grown stronger, and multiple times a week, they bring guests to stay at the church who, in the past, would have had nowhere to go.

What has not changed this year is the way this project has fostered new relationships and deepened existing ones in our church and community.

Truth be told, volunteering at our Code Blue Shelter is likely one of the quietest and most boring tasks we do in “mission.” For the first shift, there is some activity at the start, and the second shift has a busy last hour of tasks to complete, but mostly it is sitting and keeping watch in the wee hours of the night.

While many of us who work bring computers and books, iPads and neglected work, there is also a part of every shift where volunteers just sit and talk and get to know each other in the quiet of the night. It brings joy to my heart each time I get to introduce members to each other as they start their shifts – often highlighting what I appreciate about each of them, knowing they will find places of connection in the time spent together. This is what it means to be a community.

This year, I have come to especially value the ways that guests and volunteers have connected. Often, a guest will ask about a volunteer they haven’t seen work this year, but who they remember from the past. In the days after a shift, a volunteer will often share with me a part of a guest’s story they learned for the first time.

As we approach our final week of hosting, I encourage anyone who has been considering volunteering at the shelter to grab one of the remaining slots. Not because we need more volunteers to help carry the burden of keeping the shelter open each night (even though that is the case), but because this is what it means to be church and community together.

Sign up for a Code Blue Shift.

Faith in Action: Responding to a Changing World

Jonathan Sacks was a renowned rabbi, philosopher, theologian, and public intellectual. A gifted teacher and writer, Sacks explored the moral foundations of society, the relationship between faith and modern life, and the power of religious traditions to foster human dignity, responsibility, and hope in a pluralistic world.

In his book the Dignity of Difference, he wrote this,
Men and women were made – so I believe – to serve one another, not just themselves.
We may not survive while others drown;
we may not feast while others starve;
we are not free when others are in servitude;
we are not well when billions languish in disease and premature death.

This is an easy sentiment to appreciate and to affirm as an orientation for how we as individuals and as a church live out our Christian calling to service and our identity as disciples of Jesus Christ.

People in our world are drowning in this moment – not so much literally but figuratively.

There is an overwhelming sense of dread among folks in our community and nation:

One of our mission partners here in Lower Merion reached out to me this week to ask for help in gathering supplies and resources for immigrant women whose husbands have been detained and are struggling to care for their children.

One of the Afghan families BMPC has supported for two years is in crisis as two of the men, and primary wage earners, have been detained despite their faithful compliance with the established legal process of being granted asylum in the United States. The members of our Refugee Support Committee have been working tirelessly to help them return home.

This week, news has been shared widely among Presbyterian circles that Rene Nicole Good, who was killed by ICE agents in Minneapolis last week, was a sister Presbyterian among us who served in her congregations and, as a young adult, was in mission service in Ireland in the early 2000s. Rene’s uncle is a Presbyterian pastor in Nebraska.

What is our calling in a world where things like these are happening, where so many are drowning?

That will be the topic of our conversations this coming Sunday morning at 11:15 in Congregational Hall – what is our community called to do to speak up and speak together in this moment? My hope for our time together is three fold – that it will be a space where we can articulate our grief at the brokenness of the world in this moment, an opportunity to reaffirm many of our historic values and practices as a congregation around justice and advocacy, and especially a chance for us to connect and move forward with new ways to engage and work towards good in the world today.

I hope you will join us.

Words of Gratitude

Dear Friends in Christ,

As I come to the close of my time among you, my heart is filled with gratitude—gratitude for the 43 years we have shared, for the faith we have practiced together, and for the countless moments of grace that have shaped my ministry and my life.

It has been one of the great privileges of my calling to walk with you through seasons of joy and sorrow, growth and challenge, celebration and quiet faithfulness. Together we have prayed, sung, mourned, rejoiced, learned, and served. In doing so, you have taught me more about God’s love, patience, humor, and hope than I could ever express.

I am deeply thankful for your trust, your kindness, and your generosity of spirit. Thank you for welcoming me into your lives, for allowing me to serve you, and for forgiving me when I fell short. I leave enriched by your stories, strengthened by your faith, and forever changed by our shared journey.

As I step into retirement, I do so with confidence in the future of this congregation. I am incredibly grateful to my amazing colleagues in the Music and Fine Arts Program — James Kealey, who will take over the reins; Tori Fisher, who is one of the most gifted people I have ever worked with; and Daniel Carroll, my brilliant student and organ scholar. I am grateful to the entire church staff — our amazing pastors, support staff, and facilities crew. With this remarkable team, God’s work at BMPC continues, and with their leadership, I know you will move forward with courage, compassion, and ever-deepening faith.

Please know that I carry you with me—in prayer, in memory, and in deep affection. Though my role is changing, my gratitude and love for you remain.

May God bless you and keep you, now and always.

Jeffrey Brillhart

The Post-Christmas Glow 

If I asked ten people for their favorite part of the Advent and Christmas season, no doubt I’d receive ten different replies. Likewise, if I asked those same people the same question next year, I might even get a different response from the same person. Therein lies the beauty of the season; the same story is told each year anew. It perpetually feels alive, fresh, and just as exciting as it did last year.  

I wonder what the memorable part of this year, from the mystery of Advent to the glow of Christmas Eve, was for you? Perhaps it was seeing a child experience the magic of the story during Wee Christmas, or maybe it was hearing a retelling of the story at the Christmas Concert or the return of Nine Lessons & Carols. Could it have been in the quiet stillness of the Service of the Longest Night, or whilst eating too many cookies at Carols & Cocoa?  You might have found it during the inspiring sermons and meditations offered, or maybe it was during a regular meeting or group gathering. Was it during Silent Night, bathed in candlelight on Christmas Eve, in a full Sanctuary adorned with the most wonderful garland, wreaths, poinsettias, and trees?  

Steeped in mystery, wonder, and awe, I witnessed profound moments of hope, peace, joy, and love during my first Advent and Christmas season at BMPC. I was fortunate to see the people of this church come together, united in love for this church, its people, and the message to the world outside – proclaiming the news of Christ’s birth. May we, in 2026 and beyond, continue to be so bold and spirit-filled, and, in the midst of the world around us, remain ever faithful to this most Holy story. What moments will be with you next Christmas? I can’t wait to find out.  

A Manger in the Living Room

“and laid him in a manger because there was no place for them in the inn.” ~ Luke 2:7b

The verse above comes from a beloved chapter in Scripture. It is often dramatized in churches during December. Despite that broad familiarity, every Christmas pageant I have seen has included a character and location never mentioned in the text. For no matter how closely you look at Luke’s account, you will not find mention of an innkeeper or a stable.

Both pieces of the story are so ingrained in our telling that we might think they must be mentioned elsewhere in the New Testament. They aren’t. Instead, I suspect those two details are standard in pageants because they make sense. After all, when Luke says that Mary placed Jesus “in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn,” we imagine there must have been someone to turn the family away. Likewise, a stable for the child’s first night seems reasonable, for where else would you have a manger?

I’m not here to definitively refute either tradition, but want to offer another possibility. Namely, that Jesus’ first night was spent in the living room of a relative.

Kenneth Bailey, a professor of Biblical studies who spent years living in the Middle East, reached that conclusion as he focused on the Greek word katalyma, translated here as “inn.” (Bailey, Kenneth E. Jesus Through Middle Eastern Eyes. Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2008. pp.27-36) That term might cause us to think of a Bed and Breakfast, and there was such a place in first-century Bethlehem. Still, the reason Bailey wondered if that was not where the Holy Family sought shelter was that the only other time Luke speaks of an “inn” is Jesus’ Parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10), where the injured man is taken to such a place. In that account, he doesn’t call the place a katalyma but uses another Greek word.

Such a difference raises the possibility that what Luke meant in the Bethlehem events was another understanding of katalyma; namely, a guest room in a private home. The gospel writer speaks of a katalyma one other time. Years later, when Jesus sends his disciples to prepare for their final meal, the group delivers his message to a homeowner of “Where is the guest room”–katalyma– “where I may eat the Passover with my disciples?”(Luke 22:11). That shared choice of a Greek word from that moment and our passage raises the possibility that when Mary and Joseph were looking for a place to spend the night that they went to one of his relatives and found no space in the guest room. So, the child was placed in a manger.

That interpretation would seem unlikely if we picture the manger as being in a stable and thus outside a home. Again, Dr. Bailey points out that for many families of that day, there was often only one main room to the house where everyone slept and ate. Animals were kept in that room at night, though in an area a bit lower than the floor for people. At one end of the level on which people lived was a place cut out in the floor where animals on the lower level could raise their heads to eat. It was a manger, a feeding trough for livestock when in the house.

So when Luke tells us that “she gave birth to her firstborn son…and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the katalyma,” perhaps he was saying the family was not turned away, but given sparse accommodations inside a home. That the child was placed in a manger, but instead of it being in a stable, the trough was in the living room. A possible difference in meaning that allows for humanity in all its diversity to appear again.

In 1987, I was making plans for my first Christmas Eve as a pastor.  In the congregation I served, there was a tradition for worshipers to come forward and receive the Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper. Each person would take a piece of bread from a Ruling Elder and then move to receive a small cup from me that was held in a tray. Most Presbyterian churches don’t use wine for communion, but grape juice. The tradition in my first pastorate was to use that alternative, too, but on my first Christmas Eve since ordination, I wanted to try something different.

The Book of Order, our procedural document in the PC(USA), at the time said, “Whenever wine is used in the Lord’s Supper, unfermented grape juice should always be clearly identified and served also as an alternative for those who prefer it.” I followed those instructions closely. Since the trays had several rings of cups, I filled only the outermost one with wine. All the rest held juice. The bulletin explained the setup. I told the congregation audibly how it would work, too. I’d taken all the precautions I could think of, yet things quickly deteriorated even so.

Since I was the only one serving the cup to worshipers, I got a close glimpse of what unfolded. It included wives frowning as their husbands took the wine, fathers who shook their heads as their teenage sons reached for the outer ring, and young children whose hands were gently slapped if they made a similar choice. When you add the strong smell of fermentation that filled the sanctuary, I knew before the benediction I would never offer wine again during Communion!

Such reminders of humanity are fitting. For whether there was an innkeeper in Bethlehem is not the critical piece. Whether the child spent his first night in a stable or the living room of extended family is not essential either. Nor is the choice of using wine or grape juice in the Lord’s Supper of ultimate importance, as I learned the hard way years ago.

Rather, the key fact about Christmas is how God took the extraordinary step of coming to earth in human form so that creation might be reconciled to their Maker. Or as the gospel writer John reminded so poetically, “And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.”

Merry Christmas!

Beginning the Conversation

In the introductory brochure prepared by the Interim Pastor Search Committee and our talented communications team, you learned a few things about my journey. It spoke of the nine amazing people who bless my life outside of church and the educational and vocational path that preceded my time at BMPC. While there is certainly more than can be said about each of those details I’d like to spend my time in this first article further introducing myself to you. I do so, counting on the fact that in the coming months, you will do the same with me.

I am the middle of five children who grew up in North Carolina and Georgia. Lori is the youngest of five from a household that was based in western New York. We were the last in our families to get married which means that our siblings along with their children and grandchildren live in all parts of our country. I have been blessed to officiate at more than 30 family weddings, baptisms or funerals during my career. Each of those moments was a profound honor.

As a lover of history, I have been a lifelong admirer of Abraham Lincoln and since moving to Pennsylvania have attended an event in Gettysburg called The Lincoln Forum fifteen times. I have always appreciated the gift of travel and during my lifetime have visited 48 states and 30 countries. We will add two more of the latter next year. Other than Alabama football, there is no particular college team that I follow closely, yet on the professional front, I share with many of you the agony and joy of being a fan of the Eagles. The Phillies hold second place in my baseball loyalties as I lived in suburban Atlanta as a boy and attended the first game of the Braves. You will have no trouble picking out my car in the church parking lot!

I used to be a regular runner, including my participation in a Charlotte marathon and the Broad Street Run in Philadelphia. A broken hip four years ago marked an end to such activity as my orthopedic surgeon said “You could keep running, but I wouldn’t recommend it.” For exercise now, I go to our local YMCA three to four times each week with long walks on the days in between. I’m looking forward to exploring new routes on outings from the manse.

In our two years since retirement, we have traveled extensively and doted regularly on our four grandchildren. Two weeks ago, I sang at the Festival of Carols concerts offered by the Montgomery County Chorale and Orchestra. While preparing me for the beautiful music found at BMPC it also gave me new appreciation for the commitment of our choir members and other musicians. In May, I completed training as a voice actor and have narrated two books available on Amazon. At the start of last year, I began a weekly online devotional blog called Ordinary Grace and in June added a podcast version. Both seek to reflect on the everyday moments in life where God is at work. Thus, the 27 months since ending full-time ministry have been a gift.

At my retirement in August of 2023, I had no plan to serve as an Interim Pastor anywhere. Yet through a series of events with God’s fingerprints all over them, I began a conversation with your search committee that has now resulted in the honor of joining you in a time of transition. I am thrilled and humbled to serve in this capacity and look forward to hearing your stories, too, as together we prepare for your next installed pastor.

The Power of Music

As an introvert, I have always loved this time of year. I love autumn, with its bold, then fading colors and increasingly chilly evenings. I love the unique shades of blue the sky takes on in autumn. I love the warmth of community at Thanksgiving. And with each day growing shorter and the darkness longer, this introvert is even more inspired to find creativity and renewal in the solitude and personal reflection that come with these long nights and darkened days.

I love how music reflects the seasons. The music of harvest. The music of Thanksgiving. The music of Advent. Advent has a sound unlike any other season, filled as it is with minor-key music (“O Come, O Come Emmanuel”) and its language, filled with longing, hope, expectation, and wonder. For an introvert, all this inward-looking and longing feels like a deep balm. With the arrival of Christ comes our endless cries of Gloria in excelsis. The world explodes in joy, and all seems well.

In this holiest and most beloved of seasons, it is music that signals the arrival of something different and something profoundly holy. It includes music that fills us with joy and hope. It includes music that salves the brokenhearted and the ill with messages of goodwill, empathy, and love.

In the coming days, you will experience the full scope of this season. Its darkening days and minor keys. Its balm. Its joy. December 14th’s concert, “Prologue to Epilogue,” will trace the entire story of the season with anthems and carols. Singers, brass, organ, bells, and your voices will combine to remind us of our unique Christian heritage and our ever-hopeful nature. The “Longest Night Service” on Wednesday, December 17, will provide balm and solace in the magnificence of our candlelit church, familiar music, soaring solos, and prophetic preaching.

On December 24, the darkness of Advent turns to abundant joy with three incredible Christmas Eve services. The 4:30 p.m. Family Service (the largest service attended of the year) is an explosion of youthful energy and excitement as a cast of 100 children tell and sing the story. With the Bryn Mawr Brass, our staff of organists, our wonderful Choristers, and your voices, the walls of the church will soar with joy. At 8:30 p.m., we will gather around the table to hear the Christmas story said, sung, and preached, and celebrate the birth of our Savior. At 11:00 p.m., the much-beloved choir-led Christmas Lessons and Carols will return. Led by our renowned Sanctuary Choir and a cast of lay readers, the glorious story will be retold through scripture and song. From Adam to Mary to the Shepherds and the Wise Men, no characters will be excluded!

Where Advent music whispers promise, Christmas music proclaims fulfillment. Singing together, be it “Silent Night” or “Joy to the World,” or listening to the choir soar in its harmony, is a communal act that transforms us, individuals, into one people — one breath, one voice, one hope. Such is the power of music. Such is the power of community. Such is the power of this church. Such is the power of Christ.