Author: The Rev. Rachel Pedersen

The feast day of Saint Francis of Assisi officially takes place on the 4th of October. Here at BMPC, we observe it on the first Sunday of October. Traditionally, Presbyterians are not in the business of celebrating too many saints. However, BMPC has always had a fondness for Saint Francis, even going so far as to place him in the stained glass of our chapel windows. The image is familiar–a simple man, tonsured, dressed in plain brown robes, and surrounded by animals. This Sunday at 4:00 p.m., dogs, cats, lizards, and more will pass by his window on their way to the Blessing of the Animals on the front lawn of the Education Building. All animals are welcome, though our local groundhogs and garden snakes tend to avoid the crowds. Together, we will praise God and give thanks for the creatures of God’s good earth, but there is more to Saint Francis’ story and more to Sunday’s observations.

The story of Saint Francis includes a moment when he makes peace with a wolf and the town of Gubbio. Legend has it that Francis makes peace by first invoking the name of Jesus and then simply speaking to the wolf, saying, “The whole town is complaining about you, but I want to make peace between you and the people.” Francis promises the wolf that he will be given food so he will never again be hungry, and in turn, “Brother Wolf” promises never to harm another person or animal. The town of Gubbio and the wolf are fundamentally changed. The wolf no longer fears hunger, and the town no longer fears the wolf. They are both freed.

It is not lost on this children’s pastor that while the story’s details change with each telling, the wolf is always called brother. Saint Francis addresses him like a brother in a holy order or a member of one’s family. The wolf is not dangerous or awful, and though he tends to eat the villager’s sheep, the wolf is still Francis’ brother.

The short story models the complex work of peacemaking: clear communication, honoring connections, recognizing the needs of both parties and seeking a shared solution. Unlike Francis, we cannot speak to our animal neighbors and ask the wasps to “move along” or the local squirrels to stop stealing carefully planted bulbs. Our human neighbors might balk if we shout the name of Jesus every time we approach. Even with our less-than-saintly limitations, I wonder if we should be a little more like Francis, willing to walk into the woods and seek peace.

On Sunday, we will hold two celebrations. Yes, there will be the blessing of the animals in the afternoon, but during morning worship, we will observe World Communion Sunday, a tradition that dates back to 1933 in Pittsburgh. This day, first nationally observed in 1940, is a powerful reminder of our connection to God’s people all around the world. Imagine, at the outbreak of World War II, the church paused and called nations at war “brother and sister,” remembering our connections as bread was broken and the cup was shared, an act of peace in the face of war.

Sharing communion and blessing animals are not radical acts, but they are hopeful ones. They are actions that model restoration in the face of so much destruction and sorrow. They are actions that reconnect us to one another and to God’s creation. They are actions that invite us to pause, call each other family, and rest in the promise of belonging and blessing that God extends to all.

It is practically sacrosanct and probably bordering on sacrilegious, but every August, I have a lemming-like need to walk the school supply aisles. Stacks of composition books speak to stories yet to be written. Planners promise an organized and efficient year ahead. Boxes of crayons and colored pencils are brimming with possibility. I even appreciate the calculators, protractors, and graph paper that tell me any problem can be solved. Walking the aisles, I see families pouring over lists, arguing over decisions, and digging through piles to find the last green college rule spiral ring notebook. I know that within a few hours of the first school bell, the best-laid plans will start to change. Planners will be filled and overfilled. Crayons will be lost and broken in the process of creating art. Calculators will prove frustrating and protractors dangerous. And those composition books? They will be filled with notes and essays and maybe even a few stories that need to be told. The year will be messy, complicated, and beautiful because people are all those things.

This Sunday, following worship, we will bless backpacks. The weather report indicates we might need to move inside, but regardless, we will gather and ask God to bless each backpack—but more importantly, the child who will carry it. This blessing is a pause in a busy season where we remind children of God’s presence with them. That along with all the tools they have purchased and all the resources they have packed away, we remember that God, too, will be with them at the start of the year. We whisper the promise that God will be there in the messy moments, the complicated ones, the difficult ones, and the beautiful ones alike. In doing so, we remind ourselves that God, too, goes with us, with or without our backpacks.

A Prayer for Backpacks

God bless this backpack and the child who carries it. Bless the grown-ups who help pack it and teachers who help fill it. Bless the bus drivers who transport it, the custodians who clean around it, the librarians who add to it, and the friends who recognize it. Fill this backpack with things unseen: with love and hope, with forgiveness and fortitude, with joy and patience. Be as close to this child as their backpack, resting lightly upon their shoulders and present with them no matter what they may face. Bless, Oh Lord, this backpack and the child who carries it.

After church on Sunday the 16th, when our volunteers gathered for training, we paused in prayer. Each person offered a hope for our VBC campers. Words like “friendship,” “welcome,” “peace,” “grace,” “joy,” “love,” and “belonging” filled Congregational Hall. The words were a prequel to what would unfold over the next six days as campers and volunteers alike were surrounded by and embodied welcome, belonging, joy, grace, love, and even an occasional second of peace.

Camp is indeed joyful and energetic, sacred and silly, beautiful and messy, all at the same time. For a week, we created a unique church. Our choir was raucous and loved to dance during the quiet parts of a song. Our sermons were delivered in costumes and shared in 2-minute videos. While our members were still learning how to tie shoes, recognize letters, and say goodbye to parents during morning drop-off, they were confident in sharing kindness, bold in trying new things, and positively exploding with creativity.

This year, camp explored how we can use the arts to help tell God’s story and share God’s love. It was only possible because of our volunteers’ love for the project. Incredible guest artists shared their gifts and passion, modeling how our creative work is faithful work. Faithful volunteers created space so campers could try their hands at everything: playing an organ, creating mosaics, directing a play, sculpting, singing, and more. Youth volunteers modeled leadership and faith to our campers. And a host of people filled in, welcomed, prepared snacks, and ensured everything was ready for God to work! Together, adults, youth, and children played, prayed, and explored. In every action, they were sharing God’s love with one another and with anyone who happened to walk through the church or drive past on Montgomery Avenue.

I hope that as you look through the pictures available on Facebook, you will have a hint of what the week looked like. But let me share this memory: I experience VBC from a unique vantage point. Leading our gathering time means I look out on a sea of campers and volunteers, watching as they roll their eyes at silly jokes, giggle with friends, and dive into projects and activities with gusto. There are also sacred moments when we are singing together, and their voices overtake the recording, and they declare in movement and song that God’s love is indeed “wider than my arms can reach, taller than the trees, higher than the stars above, and deeper than the sea.”

I remember the Ash Wednesday when everything went wrong. I was moving a small bowl of ash, and it tipped over. Black palm ash went everywhere! It is so fine that you can’t just sweep it up but rather need to attack with damp cloths and the knowledge that you will not leave the affair unmarked. My hands resembled those of a chimney sweep- molted with soot. My fingers were tipped with perfect half circles of pitch-black embedded under each nail.

To make matters worse, I had lost 90% of the ash we needed for the evening service and had to call my Episcopalian colleague to see if she had any extra. She was kind enough to point out the streaks of ash across my cheek and nose. It was a mess. After all, what else can be expected with a name like Ash Wednesday? But Ash Wednesday is just a messy start to a messy season.

On the one hand, Lent is an incredible invitation to refocus on God, to take a thoughtful pause from the things that distract us, and to practice the parts of our faith that are the most meaningful. On the other hand, Lent can feel like another set of rules and obligations. It can become one more thing on a long list of things “to do.” After all, the rest of the world doesn’t enter into a “holy pause” just because the pastors start wearing purple stoles on Sunday. People don’t suddenly become more reflective and thoughtful just because we stop using “hallelujahs” in our worship. Violence doesn’t stop because we promise to avoid social media for 40 days. Hunger doesn’t go away because we give up chocolate. I often think that Lent would be easier if we, like Jesus, could spend these 40 days in the wilderness. But Lent has never been an invitation to escape from the world. Rather, it is a call to make this journey through the messiness of the everyday. Perhaps the beauty of Lent is that it reminds us that faith can grow even in messy places and that we can walk with Jesus through the mess.

Now, as a seasoned pastor, I know to be exceptionally careful when dealing with ash. Today, as I clean up from Ash Wednesday, it will take a few rounds to wash away all the oil and ash and a few trips to put away candles and scrape up wax. I hope each of those steps will be a prayer. A reminder of God’s presence even in the mess our attempts to practice faith sometimes produce. I’ll be praying for each of you as your Lenten journey begins. I pray that your shoes get dirty as you explore new paths. I pray that you are distracted by the beauty of creation surrounding you. I pray that you hear God in unexpected places and find the Word of God guiding you in unforeseen directions. I pray that your heart breaks when you see the suffering of others, and I pray comfort surrounds you in the care of a friend. I pray that you hunger for justice and righteousness and I pray that you fight for peace. I pray that you feel the callouses that grow from hard work and service. I pray that within each day, you find time to rest and breathe. I pray that ash and oil stick around, marking you as Christ’s own.

If you’re looking for a bit of inspiration, read from the Lenten Devotion and see how others in the church are turning back towards God. You can find copies around the church. You are also invited to join us in Children’s Ministry as we follow a calendar of daily reflections to help us reconnect to God and one another. You can follow along via Instagram (https://www.instagram.com/bmpc_children/) or pick up a paper copy in the education building.

“For the word of God is quick, and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart.” (Hebrews 4:12)

While I have spent my entire life reading from the New Revised Standard Version of the Bible, those words from the King James Version were on a bookmark that my grandmother gave me shortly after receiving my third grade Bible so many years ago. I found the words intriguing and a little bit scary: dividing asunder felt almost like a threat!

The Bible bearing my name did not seem particularly dangerous or very sharp. Those rounded onionskin pages were not a high papercut risk, and yet, over time the Word of God carefully marked on each page proved to be quick, powerful, sharp, piercing, and discerning.

That Bible, and the many that followed it, helped me define my values (1 John 4:7-8), helped me understand who I am (Galatians 3:26-29), showed me God’s world and God’s people through new eyes (Psalm 104). It has given me words when I thought everything was lost (Psalm 139:11-12); it taught me about God’s love (Luke 15); and scripture shared a vision of God’s community that gives me hope (Isaiah 2:2-5). Each day I return to familiar and less familiar texts and find God speaking in new ways.

This Sunday our third graders will receive their Bibles. We will begin the long process of learning how to find things within it, how to read through difficult names, where to find the stories of God’s Covenants and the Good News of Jesus, how to read texts from long ago with 21st century eyes. We will learn together just how powerful these words can be. I hope that as we do, our students will begin to find words that shape and form them.

The very first thing we will do together is practice opening our Bibles. I know that our third graders are more than capable of opening a book, but in that silly and sacred act we remember that it is not the book that is holy, but the words within it. It is our reading that makes the Bible so powerful.

Part of our tradition at BMPC is pre-highlighting each Bible with key passages, tiny markers to help them as they begin searching through the pages. These are passages that are central to our faith and passages that are especially meaningful to different members of our community. You can read the list below. What passages would you add? What stories have shaped you? What passages have convicted you and comforted you? What sections of the Bible do you avoid, and which pages are well worn?

I wonder if you would be willing to join our third graders this Sunday and bravely open your own Bible and see what quick, powerful, sharp, piercing, and discerning word you might find.