Gifts of joy and wonder 2022

… Give them an inquiring and discerning heart, the courage to will and to persevere, a spirit to know and to love you, and the gift of joy and wonder in all your works. Amen.

Book of Common Prayer, p. 308

Whatever the season or reason for gift-giving, these words from the Episcopal prayer for the newly baptized encourage a different mindset, a way of thinking about giving gifts that will be truly nurturing. I have a clear bias towards books—always my favorite thing to give and to get— and the ones mentioned here were all published in 2022, but I have other suggestions as well.

An inquiring and discerning heart:

Progressive Christian educator and author Brittany Sky McRay has created a subscription series of Family Time Kits to explore faith and inspire compassion, connection, and courage. There are four age categories: 0-36 months, ages 3-6, 7-11, and adult. You can cancel any time after the first month, but I can’t imagine you’ll want to.

Rabbi Toba Spritzer’s God is Here: Reimagining the Divine examines ancient metaphors such as Water, Place, Rock, Cloud, and Fire with new understandings for God, not as an abstract exercise but to change the way we live and act every day, with spiritual practices that accompany each of the divine metaphors.

The courage to will and to persevere:

The long-awaited Rest is Resistance: A Manifesto by Tricia Hersey, founder of The Nap Ministry, is already a best-seller, and its power rests in Hersey’s prophetic voice, strengthened by her grounding in Black liberation theology and Womanism. It’s designed to help all of us push back against white supremacy and capitalism and give us what we need to truly rest.

Conversations with People Who Hate Me: 12 Things I Learned from Talking to Internet Strangers by Dylan Marron is a lively, engaging, and inspiring read about finding connection and common ground in a divided world. Dylan Marron is an actor, activist, and host of the eponymous podcast. Highly recommended for high school youth and adults.

How to Begin When Your World is Ending: A Spiritual Field Guide to Joy Despite Everything by Molly Phinney Baskette is laugh-out-loud funny and bracingly honest. Her insights about how and why to live fully and exuberantly no matter what should be shared with abandon. Molly is a UCC pastor, a parent, a cancer survivor, and a gifted writer. Give this to your besties, your book club, someone who’s struggling right now, and be sure to download the Doomsday Pollyanna Dance Party-slash-Book-Club guide, complete with food and drink pairings and a playlist.

A spirit to know and to love you:

More and more since I moved to the Pacific Northwest, I come close to God in nature. This nature meditations deck is designed to be used by those who are new to mindfulness as well as those with well-established meditation practices. You can slip the box into your backpack before heading out for a hike, choose one for your coat pocket as you go for a walk, or take one to read when you’re stuck inside at your desk.

Seasons of Wonder: Making the Ordinary Sacred Through Projects, Prayers, Reflections, and Rituals: A 52-Week Devotional by Bonnie Smith Whitehouse, an English professor and Episcopal lay leader, is a new interactive devotional for families brimming with prayers, activities, and simple suggestions for families who want to be intentional in discovering and celebrating the Holy throughout the church year and in the natural rhythm of the seasons. There is a special focus on creation care in these practices.

The gift of joy and wonder in all your works:

Here: The Dot We Call Home, The Astronomer Who Questioned Everything: The Story of Maria Mitchell, and  Sun in My Tummy  are three outstanding picture books by my dear friend Laura Alary. While these books are not religious, there are spiritual connections to be made, and Laura is a gifted theologian. They make excellent gifts on their own for the children in your life, and their themes inspired me with several ideas for others on your list.

Here, a book that deepens our concepts of home while inviting us to think about our responsibilities to our neighborhoods and to our planet, comes with an excellent downloadable activity guide. You may wish to gift this earth pillow (it also comes ball-sized) or a set of plantable pencils and either this creative journal for budding activists or a gratitude journal like this one.

The Astronomer Who Questioned Everything is a beautifully illustrated biography of a remarkable 19th century woman, Maria Mitchell. Astronomy enthusiasts of any age will appreciate the stunning photography in the 2023 Deep Space Mysteries calendar from Astronomy Today, a connect- the-stars constellation mug, and tee shirts featuring Maria Mitchell or astronaut Mae Jemison, both designed from striking cut paper art by high school student Maggie Donnelly.

Sun in My Tummy is an imaginative and lyrical science lesson on how we get our food. It made me think of this sweet set of weather story blocks for little ones, as well as the award-winning environmental board game for youth and adults, Photosynthesis. I’m also charmed by these lightweight, packable solar lanterns.

Wendy Claire Barrie is the author of Faith at Home: A Handbook for Cautiously Christian Parents.

Reflections on water

Photo by Leo Rivas on Unsplash

Water is the very essence of life, the most common substance on earth. It covers nearly 80% of the earth’s surface and makes up more than half of our bodies. Humans can live for a month without food, but for less than a week without water. Scientists think that life itself began in water.

The Book of Genesis begins like this:

When God began to create the heavens and the earth–the earth was without shape or form, it was dark over the deep sea, and God’s wind swept over the waters–

Genesis 1:1-2

Water stories and imagery fill the Bible. Over and over again in the Hebrew scriptures, we are shown that water is not only for cleansing, it is a symbol of renewal and refreshment for God’s people, especially in the Psalms and the books of the prophets. In the New Testament, from Jesus’s baptism in the Jordan River to his turning water into wine at the wedding feast in Cana to his stilling the storm-tossed waves, these water stories are never about the obvious or the expected.  Jesus walks on water. He tells the woman at the well that those who drink of the water he offers will never be thirsty again. He cures a man who cannot enter the pool of Bethsaida, becoming himself the healing water. On the night before he died, Jesus washes his disciples’ dirty, smelly feet as an act of love: “For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you.” And once, when Jesus told a story about doing what’s most important, he said, “I assure you that when you have done something for one of the least of these siblings of mine, you have done it for me… for I was thirsty, and you gave me something to drink.”

All the water that ever will be already exists: we cannot create it. All the water that is has been here from the beginning of time. The water that rocked the ark, the water that parted before Moses, the water that gushed from the rock in the desert, the water drawn by the woman at the well, the water that flowed from Jesus’ side is the very same water that that we use for drinking and bathing and laundry, washing up the dishes, filling the kiddy pool, and watering the basil on the windowsill. The water that puts out the campfire and the house fire, the water that pours from the stormy sky and springs from the courtyard fountain, the water from the cistern in Kenya, the mud puddle in Cambodia, the water in Puget Sound that is home to orcas and salmon and port to ships and canoes, and the water in the font at our baptism is the water that has been here since the beginning of time. May we care for this water and all life which depends on it knowing this truth: All water is holy water.

My thoughts on water and baptism have been deeply influenced by the work of two gifted Episcopal formation leaders, Anne Kitch and Klara Tammany. I’m especially grateful for Anne’s activity book, Water of Baptism, Water for Life, designed for school-aged children, which can be used in a wide variety of contexts. The second edition of Klara’s book, Living Water: Baptism as a Way of Life, has just been released and is an invaluable resource for baptismal preparation and Christian living. It can be used by groups or individuals.

One in ten people on our watery planet lack access to clean water. Learn more here about global issues of water and sanitation. One Well: The Story of Water on Earth is an excellent picture book that helps kids understand worldwide water concerns. We Are Water Protectors won a 2021 Caldecott medal for its stunning illustrations and tells the story of the sacredness of water and our responsibility to safeguard it, inspired by the many Indigenous-led movements of the last several years in North America.

Wendy Claire Barrie is the author of Faith at Home: A Handbook for Cautiously Christian Parents.

‘Twas the Season of Advent by Glenys Nellist

Cover illustration by Elena Selivanova

Glenys Nellist recounts the timeless story of the Incarnation–God coming into the world as Jesus, born of Mary–through a gentle retelling of scripture from the Old and New Testaments over twenty-five days in her newest book, Twas the Season of Advent. Beautifully and sensitively illustrated by Elena Selivanova, the stories, which begin with a rhyme following the style of the beloved Christmas poem ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas, and include the scripture citation, are meant to be read one each day from December 1 through Christmas Day. Each ends with a simple prayer. A downloadable activity pack is available to help families deepen and further the conversation. A wonderful addition to the rich treasury of Advent and Christmas stories, ‘Twas the Season of Advent may become a new tradition to add to your holiday devotions or bedtime ritual.

Remembering September 11

Photo: Tim Martin

1.

What I remember most vividly about that day was the color of the sky—a deep, clear blue that we remarked on to strangers in awe and wonder, minutes earlier. I was on a crosstown bus transporting a heavy bag of books to my new office at Church of the Heavenly Rest on the Upper East Side of Manhattan where I had recently joined the staff as Director of Religious Education. Just before my stop, the bus driver’s radio alerted us to the fact that there’d been an accident in lower Manhattan and all buses were being diverted and would not be allowed below 14th Street.

Tuesdays are staff meeting days in many churches, and at Heavenly Rest we began at 9 a.m. with Morning Prayer and the news that a plane had hit one of the twin towers. When someone rushed in to tell us of the second plane, we realized that this was vastly different from the sad but understandable accident we could imagine involving a small passenger plane. The sexton immediately went and got the Paschal candle, lit it, and placed it in the center of the chancel, where it stayed lit for months. Immediately we began planning a worship service for that evening. Whenever the phones rang—and service was sporadic that day—it was someone asking how they could help.

Around lunchtime, I went out with the communications director and put up flyers announcing the service in shop windows and on pillars and posts. As we did so, we noticed people in twos and threes—almost never alone—coated from head to toe in white dust, slowly and silently streaming up Fifth Avenue. At 5 pm, the church was filled with people from all over the neighborhood, whether or not they had any connection to Heavenly Rest, whether or not they identified as Christian. Communion was offered to every single person who was present. In the days and weeks that followed, I held fast to the words of Psalm 46 that was chosen for worship:

God is our refuge and strength,
a very present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear, though the earth be moved,
and though the mountains be toppled into the depths of the sea;
Though its waters rage and foam,
and though the mountains tremble at its tumult.
The LORD of hosts is with us;
the God of Jacob is our stronghold.
There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
the holy habitation of the Most High.
God is in the midst of her;
she shall not be overthrown;
God shall help her at the break of day.
The nations make much ado, and the kingdoms are shaken;
God has spoken, and the earth shall melt away.
The LORD of hosts is with us;
the God of Jacob is our stronghold.
Come now and look upon the works of the LORD,
what awesome things he has done on earth.
It is he who makes war to cease in all the world;
he breaks the bow, and shatters the spear,
and burns the shields with fire.
“Be still, then, and know that I am God;
I will be exalted among the nations;
I will be exalted in the earth.”
The LORD of hosts is with us;
the God of Jacob is our stronghold.

2.

The Gospel that was appointed for Sunday, September 16, 2001 was Luke 15:1–10: God searches for all the lost ones, finds us, and brings us home, rejoicing.

For no reason other than I felt drawn, I went back to church after lunch. As I came through the front door and my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I could see two people sitting in the front pew of the otherwise empty sanctuary: a woman and a young girl. I grabbed a few blank index cards and a fistful of crayons from a basket, walked over, and knelt beside them. Softly, I introduced myself and handed the child the crayons and index cards.

“This is Annie, and I’m her aunt,” the woman told me. “Annie’s father died on Tuesday, and she is wondering who is keeping her safe now.”

I took a deep breath, said a silent prayer, and began.

“Well, Annie, your mother and your aunts and uncles are keeping you safe. So are the firefighters, and the police officers, the mayor and the president.” I paused and pointed to the Paschal candle in front of us. “Do you see this candle? We sometimes call it the Christ candle, and it’s there to remind us that God’s love is stronger than anything, even death. Jesus is here with us, and we are safe in God’s love.”

I don’t remember if I said anything else. What I will never forget is that Annie drew three pictures. The first was of the paschal candle, the second was of the dark church with jewel-bright stained-glass windows, and the third was the sun blazing in the sky. Annie knew. I simply reminded her.

       The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.

John 1:5

3.

St. Paul’s Chapel, the oldest public building in continuous use in New York City, stands opposite the site of the World Trade Center. It is the city’s only remaining Colonial-era church and by something like a miracle, it was completely undamaged on September 11, save for a one hundred-year-old sycamore tree that was uprooted in the churchyard. A survivor, too, of the Great Fire of 1776, George Washington prayed there on his inauguration day. And from October 2001 through May of 2002, St. Paul’s was a place of refuge and rest for the recovery workers. It was staffed around the clock with hundreds of volunteers, some with specialties like massage therapy and podiatry, and others who served hot meals, made up beds in pews, played the piano, prayed with the firefighters, police officers, and construction workers, and listened to their stories.

The October night I was there as a volunteer, two men arrived from South Carolina in a U-Haul truck carrying 3000 pairs of steel-toed boots. The fires were still so hot that the soles of the men’s boots were continually melting.  At midnight I went out to the smoldering pile with a few others, carrying a basket with bottles of cold water, packets of tissues, eye drops, and pewter angel tokens that had been the gift of a parishioner at the church where I was then working. The angel tokens were all the firefighters wanted. “Thank you,” they whispered over and over. Imagine.  They were thanking us.

When I got home, I found that the red tennis shoes I was wearing were entirely coated with fine white dust. They could not be cleaned. I could not throw them away, nor could I wear them again.  I think of God speaking to Moses from the burning bush:

Remove the sandals from your feet for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.

Exodus 3:5

Wendy Claire Barrie is the author of Faith at Home: A Handbook for Cautiously Christian Parents.

Palm Sunday at Home

Photo by Mary Delnore Dye

Palm Sunday is one of my favorite days of the year. It marks the beginning of Holy Week, when we tell in story and song and pageantry of Jesus’s triumphal entry into Jerusalem the week before he died and rose again. All four gospels recount that he came into the city not astride a great white stallion as would befit a king, but on a humble donkey, and thousands hailed him, laying down their cloaks and palm branches on the path before him, singing “Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!”

One Lent my friend Hershey and I thought it would be fun if we could find a donkey to lead the Palm Sunday procession for five blocks along Broadway in lower Manhattan, from St. Paul’s Chapel to Trinity Church. Can’t you just see the stunned tourists and charmed children? We never actually thought our boss would agree, but he did, and each year thereafter, it was my job to wrangle the donkey. Just finding one was a challenge, for as Rob in Yonkers once pointed out to me, “Palm Sunday is like New Year’s Eve for donkeys.” So that’s something you don’t need to worry about at home.

You also don’t need to worry about palms. As my friend Bruce Jenneker explains in this short video, “All over the world people have chosen to use the branches that are common to them.” You could decorate your door with palms or any leafy branch, because one of the most touching things about Palm Sunday is the element of public witness, of welcoming the King of Kings. Illustrated Ministry even has a free downloadable palm branch to print and color, as in the photo above from a family participating in online worship at my church in 2020. Wherever we are, we enter into the story, we connect to it, to Jesus, to our communities of faith, to one another.

We could take time, and not even a long time, with the scriptures each day during Holy Week, using a technique from Ignatian spirituality called Imaginative Prayer. What I love about this is that it works well with people of all ages, and could be done at home or with others on Zoom. It’s best when one person reads the Gospel aloud. I suggest using the Common English Bible. The readings for all of Holy Week can be found here. As you listen, put yourself in the story, or imagine that you are one of the people in the story. Think about where you are, how you feel. Read the story again. Name, or draw, or write down what you smell, taste, touch, see, and hear, giving at least one detail in each category. Remember that in scripture, we find ourselves–at the gates of Jerusalem, in the Temple courts, having supper in the Upper Room, falling asleep in the garden, hearing the cock crow three times, trembling at the foot of the cross, wondering at the empty tomb.

Wendy Claire Barrie is the author of Faith at Home: A Handbook for Cautiously Christian Parents.

*All the Holy Week and Easter at Home posts are gathered here*

Pentecost at home

Photo by Caterina Berger on Unsplash

Pentecost, the birthday of the church, is Sunday, June 5, 2022. What I wrote about Pentecost in 2019 seems even more true these past two and a half years: The church isn’t a building; it never has been—it’s the people of God, filled with the Holy Spirit given to us in baptism… bringing light to dark places, mending and making, healing and helping, one conversation or small act of love at a time.

There are two terrific picture books that help us to remember that even when we can’t go to church, we are the church. This is the Church by Sarah Raymond Cunningham and illustrated by Ariel Landy shows the rich and wide variety of contexts in which God’s people come together to do God’s work in the world. We Gather at This Table by Anna V. Ostenso Moore, illustrated by Peter Kreuger, will help children make the connection between the altar and the table, the church and the neighborhood, and how each are holy.

My friend Juniper has some great ideas for celebrating Pentecost at home. If you decide to take their suggestion and celebrate the birthday of the church with cake, I posted a recipe that you probably have all the ingredients for already. Another idea from Juniper is to make a “tongues of flame hat” and adorably, my husband made one at Waffle Church and models it on video.

Whether or not we are gathered in our beautiful, beloved places of worship, we continue to imagine all kinds of new ways to be the church. Take a deep breath, beloveds. What we need is here.

“What we need is here” is a line from Wendell Berry’s poem “The Wild Geese.” It has been made into this simple and lovely song by Episcopal priest Amy McCreath.

Wendy Claire Barrie is the author of Faith at Home: A Handbook for Cautiously Christian Parents.

5 good things

I am not a relentlessly cheerful person, but I was born on a sunny day and that has generally helped my outlook. However, these are trying times for all of us, so what I can offer this week are 5 good things:

Remember that God is with us, lovies. Wash your hands and wear a mask. Amen.

Wendy Claire Barrie is the author of Faith at Home: A Handbook for Cautiously Christian Parents.

Strength and comfort for another week in quarantine

Friends, here in New York City we are on Week 9, with no end in sight. On the other hand, the maple tree outside my kitchen window is now in full leaf, and I was able to order in two healthy houseplants, since we are on the second floor without garden access, which is a cheery thing.

Virtual visits have been life-giving. Every Saturday we have video chats with my mother, who lives across the country from us. We might have had video chats with her before quarantine, but now she’s actually home and has time for an hour-long call and no time to be self-conscious about the camera. We spend much of it laughing.

This week, we also had virtual dinner church, which was food for my soul. What is dinner church? Funny you should ask. My friend Emily’s book telling the story of her dinner church (and mine) comes out on Tuesday. It will feed you, too.

My friend Daneen is hosting a weekly online story time highlighting Holy Troublemakers and Unconventional Saints from her wonderful book of the same title. This week, in honor of Ramadan, she features the Persian poet Rumi, whose words really resonate in this present moment, even though he lived 800 years ago. My favorite poem of Rumi’s is called “The Guest House” and it’s also perfect for right now.

Another friend, Ana, shared reassuring words from Julian of Norwich, “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well” with this promise from Indian novelist Arundhati Roy: “Another world is not only possible, she is on her way. On a quiet day I can hear her breathing” in this lovely song. In fact, you should get the whole album. It was Julian’s feast day last Friday, and my friend Bob wrote a reflection on her words that give me hope.

Green and growing things, connecting with family and friends, good words, and good music—that’s what I wish for you.

Wendy Claire Barrie is the author of Faith at Home: A Handbook for Cautiously Christian Parents.

How dinner church changed my life

Next week, Emily M.D. Scott‘s book, For All Who Hunger will be out in the world, and I haven’t been more excited about a book birthday since my own. In it, Emily tells the story of founding and pastoring St. Lydia’s, a dinner church in Brooklyn. You need this book as much as you need fresh warm bread or a glass of wine or the company of a good friend right now.

The first time we went to St. Lydia’s, my son and I had already spent six hours in church–me, because I was the director of children, youth and family ministries, and my son Peter, almost 9, because he was a chorister, at a large and formal Episcopal church in midtown Manhattan.

By Sunday evening, I was tired, and so was my kid, but our friend Donald invited us, and so we went. From the moment we walked in the door, St. Lydia’s felt like home. The entire liturgy is set within the context of a meal, and those who gather for it make the dinner, set the tables, light the candles, sing the prayers. For the next five years, St. Lydia’s fed us when we were hungry, held us when we were sad, strengthened us when we faltered, emboldened us when we hesitated, brought us joy and laughter and so many good people. It was messy and beautiful and holy.

We didn’t need more church in our lives; we needed more people in our lives, people with whom we could sit and eat. You get to know people at a different level around the table, especially when they’re not people you yourself invited. This is how strangers become friends. I met my husband at dinner church.

Emily says that in the breaking of the bread something happens: we catch a glimpse of Jesus in the stranger next to us at the table. “In that moment, heaven and earth overlap and God builds a bridge between the world as it is and the world as it should be.” The meals we share, the conversations we have, give us what we need to strengthen that bridge, to confront our own prejudices, to fight injustice and inequality, to work for a greener, more peaceful neighborhood and planet.

I am so grateful to Emily, for the sacred stories she tells and the sacred spaces she creates, for helping me be a better bridge-builder, and for helping to build my family.

Emily Scott and I had a wonderful conversation about liturgy as formation at the Rooted in Jesus conference in January. You can watch it here.

Wendy Claire Barrie is the author of Faith at Home: A Handbook for Cautiously Christian Parents.

Doing good at home

Some families on their social-distancing walks look for hearts or rainbows.

Every night at 7 pm, New York City erupts into two full minutes of cheering, bell ringing, pot-banging clamor in support of all who are working on the front lines: health care professionals, delivery people, grocery store employees. It makes me teary just writing about it. Briefly, we are connected to our neighbors in a heartfelt expression of gratitude for those who are working to keep us healthy and safe.

Some of us, maybe most of us, are busy and tired right now, balancing work, our children’s remote learning, and household chores in ways we didn’t even imagine two months ago. Let me be clear: you do not need to do more. Really, truly, you don’t. I promise. You are, in fact, already doing good at home. You can stop reading right now. If, however, you find some time and energy, there are ways you and your kids can make a difference in the lives of others from your kitchen table.

Doing Good Together is a national non-profit founded in 2004 “on the belief that when parents engage with their children in community service, they pass along [to them] the spirit of giving and goodness, strengthen their families, and create a new generation of volunteers, philanthropists, and kind, caring adults.” As a response to the Coronavirus pandemic, they have all kinds of ideas and activities for families to reach out to others and to volunteer from a distance, to share from our abundance, and to advocate for justice.

We can only do so much. But as long as you’re still reading, science and experience show that helping others helps us. Strengthening bonds with family, friends and neighbors, renewing our sense of purpose, and looking to that which is bigger than ourselves actually can reduce anxiety and stress. It’s also how we join with God in helping bring about the realm of God, with one small act of kindness at a time.

Please read Catherine Newman’s exquisite post about the transformative power of these small acts. It’s the most true thing I’ve read in a long while.

Wendy Claire Barrie is the author of Faith at Home: A Handbook for Cautiously Christian Parents. One of the chapters relevant to this topic explores the importance of Meeting God in Others.