We distributed the Annual Report for 2024 at the Spring Congregational Meeting on May 19, 2024. We wanted to make it available to those of you who can’t be here in person, even if the formatting is imperfect (made as it was, for a booklet).
6 years ago, we invited the congregation to meet with each other 1-on-1 and to join us for a half day retreat at church to answer the question, “Who are we?” Today our congregation is about twice the size it was, and we believe we have a strong identity as a place for open-minded, wholehearted, hands-on faith.
It’s time to get to know who we are now. We have an ambitious goal: 250 one-on-ones between now and our next congregational retreat on Saturday, May 18th.
Think: going out for coffee with someone you know from book group or coffee hour, but have never really talked to. Think: reaching out again to someone you enjoyed talking to at a Pass-the-Peace meal.
Want to think about why? Keep reading. Don’t care? Go ahead and ask someone to get together — or text back when someone reaches out to you.
Looking for a cheat sheet? There you go. Happy connecting!
In church terms, a one-on-one is the cellular level of the body of Christ, the basic building block of community.
In community organizing (where we get the idea of a “one-on-one”), it’s an intentional, 45- to 60- minute conversation, between two people, held face-to-face (in person or online), in order to build a public relationship.
The relationships are “public” because they’re about more than whatever friendship exists between two people. A public relationship is one that builds collective power to love and change the world the way God calls us to — and to be changed ourselves.
Sometimes a one-on-one leads to powerful strategies: “Turns out we’re both passionate about mental health. We should join forces!” Sometimes it leads to powerful overlap in interests and gifts: “I’d also love to make a Bible study happen!” Sometimes these conversations lead to powerful connections that come from simply knowing a person better: “Thank you so much for sharing your story with me.”
[Feb 2021 update. After meeting online only for January, due to the case surge here in Chicago, we are back in the gym, taking what feel like the safest steps possible toward being together.]
Church Council has decided that for now we’ll be meeting for worship in our gym, where there’s room to spread out, and we can open doors and windows. We are committed to being flexible, creative, and safe for as many people as possible. We’d been planning to return to the sanctuary in October before the current wave of cases; with the contagiousness of Delta, the lack of ventilation in our sanctuary, and the inability of Bethany’s littlest kids to be vaccinated, we continue to ask what’s the safest and most fulfilling worship experience for the most folks in this season.
One thing we’re clear on: there’s no perfect option in this moment!
Of course, we’ll keep making changes as necessary. Thanks for all the flexibility and resilience you have shown as individuals and as a community in this challenging time.
Sunday, November 21st, Vince wrapped up our Foundational series with a sermon that included some of the thinking about why we’re meeting this way. Read an excerpt here and/or listen to the whole (beautiful) sermon here.
Last week when Ann had the sanctuary doors open to pack boxes with the kids in there, I saw the looks of hope and then disappointment on many of your faces as you wondered if this was the day we were going back in. I can’t wait for that day. When cases are low enough that the level of ventilation in our sanctuary seems adequate. When our kids are able to be fully vaccinated, so we don’t have to ask them to take risks that we adults didn’t. I can’t wait for that first day back when we’ll be masked and distanced and all that, but even more, I can’t wait for the day when we’re unmasked and sitting right next to each other. And singing out. And hugging at the peace. That day when things are truly back to normal. (And I know some of you – a bunch of you, really – have never experienced Bethany that way, and I can’t wait to show you. Or really to see what it will feel like with this bigger group of us together in that space.)
I am anxious for the day when we no longer need to worship in a space that is somehow both too hot and too cold. Where there is paint peeling and dust on the floor from the roof we’ve just spent $75,000 replacing. A space where it’s hard to hear the people speaking, but easy to hear every move our kids make. It’s so far from the ideal of beautiful, warm sacred space.
But once we’re back in the sanctuary, maybe we should come over here for a week every year to remind ourselves what we’ve learned in this time. When our illusions of safety and separation haven been shattered. When the things we thought we could depend on in our lives came crashing down. When we were in freefall and the God of Love slowed us down and planted our feet back on solid, holy ground. When God showed up for us in every imperfect place we sought God out. When we showed up for one another. Worked so hard and took such risks to love each other, to try to be solid for one another. I am so thankful. And I hope I never forget.
Our pledge campaign this year is Work-in-Progress. Each week in service, someone from Bethany is sharing a core belief of their own, religious or otherwise. These beliefs are a snapshot of a moment in time when this is what at least one person currently at Bethany believes. But we are, as individuals and a church, a work-in-progress. We are on the journey. And there’s so much further we can go together. Please give generously, and we can keep making progress.
This week, Sara Lewis Marsden shared:
The cafeteria at my University was known for the quantity of options, not quality.
Luckily, after the first few weeks of class (during which I quickly switched my meal plan from 18 meals per week to 12), I realized that there were plenty of other spots on campus for food – particularly lunch. I quickly fell into a routine of sorts. On Mondays, I’d eat at the cafeteria. I still had fond memories of off-campus weekend meals, and the cafeteria was an ideal location to say hi to a large number of people. Additionally, they had soft serve ice cream and cereal-marshmallow treats. Each Tuesday, I went to the United Campus Ministries “Blue House” for Veggie Lunch, where the conversation and views were progressive and I could catch up with my “Earth Matters” club friends. Wednesdays, my roommates (who were all Catholic) and I met up at the Newman Center. The line was always long, but it gave us a chance to catch up on our week so far. Some Thursdays, I’d join my friend Tyler at the Baptist Student Ministry, where, in exchange for a message heavy on evangelizing, the Mac and Cheese was divine. Friday was saved for a small group of close friends who would all meet at the Student Union to splurge on pasta.
While they gave me some additional perspective, attendance at these lunches wasn’t a cry for religious guidance. Nor was I just mooching free food, exactly. In my family, eating together is how we say, “I love you”, and joining my friends at their free lunch of choice was a way for me to invest in those relationships. Throughout life, I have found that the ability to sit at a table and eat together is a critical component of community. When we share something as fundamental as food, it leaves space for listening and learning and creates ties that can be built upon.
I believe in breaking bread together; I believe in the power of a shared meal. Here at Bethany, we break bread regularly as part of communion, but also share meals during church coffee hours, Thanksgiving potlucks, and summer ice cream socials. And beyond that, we help others have their own shared meals through our work with the Lakeview Food Pantry, Night Ministry, Crib and other organizations. Bethany is part of my community and I am part of the Bethany community for many reasons, but one of them is because we eat together.
Our pledge campaign this year is Work-in-Progress. Each week in service, someone from Bethany is sharing a core belief of their own, religious or otherwise. These beliefs are a snapshot of a moment in time when this is what at least one person currently at Bethany believes. But we are, as individuals and a church, a work-in-progress. We are on the journey. And there’s so much further we can go together. Please give generously, and we can keep making progress.
Rev. Rebecca Anderson kicked us off, on Sunday, Oct 24:
The first time I offered paper-making as an activity at camp, one of my favorite teenage boys, a ruddy-cheeked kid with a lisp, wanted to know more about it. When I told him the process, he was appalled.
“We’re going to make paper...from PAPER?”
I understood. I saw how it was funny. But I also said to him, yes, you know, like...recycling?
But he never got over his shock. Paper. From paper.
Here’s the thing, though. I believe in making things by hand, myself.
I believe in making food from scratch, and I love it when the ingredients for a meal are also things I made, or grew. I like knowing how things are made. I like fixing things. I think there’s value in the stuff of the world, and putting my hands to it.
We’re kicking off our pledge campaign this year with an ambitious goal of $74,000. That’s the most we’ve asked of ourselves in years. And: it’s only a little more than we all together committed to give last year.
You should’ve gotten a letter in the mail this week with a pledge card and even if not, you have one on your chair because Johnny and I put them there. Our theme this year is work-in-progress, the image featuring the front doors that Paul refinished, before taking on the side door. We are, and always will be, a work in progress.
We’re a church for people who believe in making things ourselves. Meals, and repairs, and community, and ministries, and friendships. We make those things with ingredients from the ones who came before us, and laid a foundation for us. We make church...from Church. Because we believe in it.
I invite you to make your financial commitment to making church in 2022. Think about what you can give and then let us know. Drop it in the offering box or mail it in later. Help make more church. From church.
Here’s the thing you have to know about me as your pastor. I’m always the most pessimistic one in a meeting. The one who can come up with all the reasons to doubt, to worry about what could go wrong.
Luckily, I’m not in charge here.
When I first met with Wyatt this summer about our budget, I said I thought we should keep our pledge goal the same: $62,500. Maybe 65. He asked me, “How much did we pledge last year?” I looked it up: $71,130.
“Then why would we set our goal so low?”
For our first four pledge campaigns with you, our goal was always $60,000. Dean insisted we keep it to try to inspire the congregation, even though we hadn’t reached it in a long time. And then we did reach it. And then we reached it again. And then we blew it out of the water.
And the truth is sometimes I forget. Sometimes I get stuck back in that place of who we have been. But we’re not that church anymore. We are growing and changing.
We’re a work in progress. We’re not where we were. And we’re not yet where we’re going.
And it is work. You all do so much to make this community what it is. You host coffee hours. You call roofing companies. You lead kids on hikes. You attend Zoom meetings. You sand and stain doors. You feed hungry people. You pick refugee families up at the airport. You check in on one another. You pray for each other. It’s a lot of work.
And we’re making progress. Not just in the numbers, but in creating a community that truly cares for one another and for our neighbors. This year we raised enough to not only sponsor our current refugee family, but to sponsor the next one! We helped Here to Stay buy the first house in its land trust, beginning the work of creating generational affordable housing in our city. We provided distanced and in-person Sunday School experiences for more than 20 kids!
The list could go on and on, but this letter is already getting long!
We’ve set ourselves a goal for 2022 that makes me nervous. $74,000 in pledges. But everything makes me nervous. And the truth is: we can do this.
As you consider your pledge for 2022, you can think about all the work this campaign will take. The work you’ll do to earn the money you give to Bethany. And all the work you already do to make this thing go.
But also think about the progress. Think about the lives that are being changed. The hope that is being spread. The meaning of what we make here. Not only for us but for our community and for the world.
We are on the journey. But there’s so much further we can go together. Please give generously, and we can keep making progress.
In optimism,
Rev. Vince Amlin
PS - Please fill out a pledge card and bring it to worship, or fill out the online pledge card available each week in your bulletin.
And now: some FAQs about pledging!
If you’ve never pledged before or never understood pledging, here’s a little FAQ. Both pastors and our council members are also available to answer any questions!
What is a pledge?
A pledge is a commitment to give a certain amount of money over the coming year. It’s a way of sharing your plan for giving with the church so that the church can make decisions about how it budgets and spends. (Since it’s a plan, we know that sometimes plans change, and that number may decrease or increase based on your circumstances.)
How do I pledge?
Just fill out the card included in this letter and bring it to church (or use the one stuffed in your bulletin every week for the next month!) Then, you can either sign up for automatic online giving through our website, www.bethanychicago.com. Or you can give by check or cash. You’ll receive a box of offering envelopes that can help us track your cash giving.
How much should I pledge?
How much you pledge is up to you. Think about an amount that feels meaningful and doable. Some people at Bethany give a few hundred dollars. Some give many thousands of dollars. The average pledge is between $2000-3000. But any amount is helpful.
Do I have to pledge to be part of Bethany?
No. We encourage anyone who finds meaning and value in being part of this community to make a pledge. But whether you pledge or not, Bethany and all its programs are here for you. Most people won’t know whether you pledge or not. And as your pastors, we’ll never treat you differently based on how you give. Pledging isn’t money we pay for the privilege of membership or to receive services. It’s money we give away in gratitude for everything we have received.
We reflect on a year like no other. As Vince writes, this annual report is a document for the Bethany of the future to find out who Bethany has been. And it is a document for us, now, to reflect on who we are, what we’re doing, and the year that’s been.
Dear Bethany Members and Friends,
Last month, Rachelle and I went backpacking in the Porcupine Mountain Wilderness. One afternoon we got to our campsite early, and with nothing else to do, we gathered an absurd amount of wood and started a fire. And for the next 7-and-a-half hours, we slowly fed branch after branch into the flames. Our fire warmed us up, gave us light at night, and provided us with lots of time to sit silently and stare into the coals.
Bethany United Church of Christ is that kind of place. It’s tended with our time and our gifts. And God shapes it all to offer us warmth, light, and space to reflect. We use our lives to create it, and it’s here to save the lives of those who need it. Physical refugees making a new home in Chicago and spiritual refugees seeking a home where they can be loved as they are. Those who are hungry for a hot breakfast and those who are hungry for connection and faith.
Your gifts make it possible. And if this community has tended to your spirit this year – brought you joy, meaning, purpose, or hope – we hope that you’ll make a pledge to keep it going in the coming year. Our goal for 2021 is $62,500 in congregational pledges, a goal we know we can reach together.
Will you please take a moment to fill out the enclosed pledge card and bring it with you to worship on October 25th or mail it back to the church? Or, for your convenience, you can find an electronic pledge card in the weekly email beginning this week! If you’re able, please consider increasing your pledge from last year, in recognition of the folks in our community who have lost jobs or income this year.
We’ve all heard the words “more than ever” more than ever this year. It’s true that your gifts are essential in this unusual moment. But it’s also true that Bethany ministers every year to those who are sick, dying, grieving, lonely, and in crisis; those who are searching for God and searching for a way forward. Every year feels like the hardest year for someone, the time when they need the care and support of a community like ours. That’s why Bethany was built 125 years ago. That’s why we keep it going.
Sincerely,
Rev. Vince Amlin
Pledging FAQ
What is a pledge?
A pledge is a commitment to give a certain amount of money over the coming year. It’s a way of sharing your plan for giving with the church so that the church can make decisions about how it budgets and spends. (Since it’s a plan, we know that sometimes plans change, and that number may decrease or increase based on your circumstances.)
How do I pledge?
Just fill out the card included in the letter you got in the mail and bring it to church on October 25th (or send it back in the mail or fill out an electronic pledge card). Then, you can either sign up for automatic online giving or you can give by check or cash. If you prefer to give by cash or check, you’ll receive a box of offering envelopes that can help us track your cash giving.
How much should I pledge?
How much you pledge is up to you. Think about an amount that feels both meaningful and doable. Some people at Bethany give a few hundred dollars. Some give many thousands of dollars. The average pledge is between $2000-3000. We consider giving money away to the church (and to other charitable causes) as a spiritual practice, helping us understand all that we have as coming from and belonging to God and teaching us generosity and what is truly important. Like all spiritual practices, you start somewhere, and grow from there.
Do I have to pledge to be part of Bethany?
No! We encourage anyone who finds meaning and value in being part of this community to make a pledge. But whether you pledge or not, Bethany and all its programs are here for you. Most people won’t know whether you pledge or not. And as your pastors, we’ll never treat you differently based on how you give. Pledging isn’t money we pay for the privilege of membership or to receive services. It’s money we give away in gratitude for everything we have received.
This Lent, we’ve been talking about finding God in the things we’re already doing. We’re still talking about it — even though the things we’re doing have changed significantly. Here’s Pastor Rebecca Anderson’s sermon for March 29, 2020, with music from Music Director Yasuko Oura and Nick Photinos. (Fauré’s Sicilliene for cello & piano, Op 78, and a new arrangement/improvisation from Yasuko on an appropriate theme!) We can’t leave the music up indefinitely, so get it while you can, and then find just the sermon here.
Our Lent is certainly not what we expected this year. But we were already planning to focus on the spirituality of our every day lives. Here’s pastor Vince Amlin’s piece from the newsletter:
A few years ago, at the annual gathering of the covenant group that Rebecca and I share with two other UCC ministers, one of them asked me about how my spiritual practice was going. My immediate reaction was shame. This group was happening 5 months after Nola’s birth, and the truth was, after praying so hard for so many months for her arrival, I hadn’t done much at all lately.
“I don’t really have a spiritual practice at the moment,” I began. But then, I stopped. “Actually, I have been singing a lot to Nola. And that’s been — “
Before I could say anything else, a flood of feeling hit me, and I started to cry. When I could speak again, I said, “I guess that’s been pretty important to me. And pretty spiritual.”
And it had. In those long days and nights of sleeplessness and anxiety, I’d taken to holding Nola and singing to her for hours on end. I chose songs that made me happy, or sad, or songs that spoke about the world I wanted her to live in. I sang often through tears and often through heart-rending joy. And all of that was very much spiritual practice, a path to connection with God.
Even though I know better, whenever anyone says “spiritual practice,” I go to the same old ideas of what that means: prayer, pilgrimage, fasting, discernment, sabbath…And more often than not, I’m hit with a pang of shame, that I don’t do enough of any of them.
Maybe you’re the same way. That’s not what this Lent is about. This Lent is about looking at the other spiritual practices, the ones we do all thetime, often without thinking of them. The regular activities of our lives that connect us to God, center us in peace, and encourage us to be our best selves.
Making music, making dinner, riding a bike, reading a book, washing the dishes, dancing, cuddling, marching in the streets, going to meetings. They can all be spiritual practices. Maybe they are for you.
This Lent, we’re going to take the time to notice the other spiritual practices. The ones we’re already doing. So that we can do them with intention and without shame, knowing that God can show up anywhere and everywhere and does, even and especially in our ordinary lives.
This Lent, we’ve been talking about finding God in the things we’re already doing. We’re still talking about it — even though the things we’re doing have changed significantly. Here’s Pastor Rebecca Anderson’s sermon for March 22, 2020, with music from Music Director Yasuko Oura and Emily Birsan. We can’t leave the music up indefinitely so get it while you can and then find just the sermon here.
And, as promised in the sermon, here’s one version (there are, approximately, a billion available) of the Ignatian Examen. (And a link to another version.)
Daily examen
Pray for light. Become aware of God’s presence. Become present to God.
Review the day, all that’s happened, all whom you’ve encountered, with gratitude, if possible.
Consider all the emotions you experienced over the course of the day, the full sweep and variety of emotions.
Think of one emotion, moment, or encounter from the day and meditate on that; pray for or through that.
Anticipate the day to come.
Bethany is one of The Night Ministry’s “founding congregations.” We’ve been there since the beginning (in 1976)! We are so grateful for opportunities to continue the partnership, by serving meals at The Crib, or alongside the health outreach van.
In November 2019, pastor Rebecca Anderson represented us at a luncheon for founding congregations, where she got to hear some of the great updates about the new location in Bucktown that will house offices, storage, and The Crib. Take a look at the presentation from that afternoon, and get up to speed on what’s new with TNM.
Grateful
by Evan Stancil (student pastor, 2019 - 2020)
Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful. Colossians 3:15 (NRSV)
A few years ago I attended a Thanksgiving lunch with some seminary peers. Before we had the meal, one of them asked us to go around and explain why we were thankful on this day. The moments afterward unfolded like a sitcom: person after person went into great detail about how blessed they are and how thankful they are every day for their life. I could feel my stomach growling as before me sat a bountiful meal with fragrant smells wafting toward me. As this time became more drawn out with each passing moment, I felt the irritation rising within me. It had been a terrible few months for me. The only thing I felt thankful for was some turkey and the chance to go nap afterward.
Listening to the conversation, I started to become cynical. Did people really live life every day specifically thanking God for each person in their life? Saying something about how God has showered blessings on me, that I am so happy with my life, it all felt so fake to say. I imagined myself going to the bathroom, practicing gratefulness in a mirror until it sounded believable. I would come back to tell all about how lucky I am to have my life. Maybe I could even force a tear or two. That would really sell it.
But the more I thought about it, it felt wrong. The more I listened to myself, the more I realized that I was trying to sell some kind of marketable thankfulness.
When it arrived at my turn to speak, I told everyone that I did not feel very thankful today. I told them that I was sad, and tired. It was an uncomfortable moment. But I was grateful to be honest with myself and the people in the room. And strangely, at that moment, I was thankful after all.
Why does it sometimes feel so inauthentic for me to be thankful? Perhaps cultivating thankfulness is accepting that peace that comes from God. Maybe being thankful is noticing where God is already at work in us and in our lives, even if it doesn’t sound very marketable.
Prayer
God of each moment of our lives, create a spirit of thankfulness in me, not so that I may seem good, but that I can feel your goodness in me.
In this year’s pledge campaign (during which we invite folks to name what they anticipate giving financially in the coming year), we decided to focus on gratitude. Sure, we could wait until the whole thing’s over and then say “thank you” but so many people already give and do so much to Bethany the church it is that we decided to say thanks early and often — before, during, and after the pledge campaign.
Each week, we’re inviting someone from Bethany to share their thanks, for the church as a whole, or to individuals within it. On Sunday, November 10th, Bud Longhauser shared a whole list of his thanks and we’re grateful to share it here, with his permission:
I'm grateful that Vince started the book club.* It has really been a delight. I'm grateful for the conversations we've had and getting to know everyone.
I'm grateful for the music. Every week, the music. To the musicians, to the vocalists, to the coordination. The music.
I'm grateful for coffee with Rebecca. Vince and Rebecca offer this up occasionally, and I would definitely recommend it. It just might be profound…or not.
I'm grateful for the music.
I'm grateful to Dave, who this past summer brought in flowers for us. There were several times it made my week.
I'm grateful for this beautiful building we get to worship in each week.
I'm grateful to Adam for inviting Russ to Bethany. I'm grateful to Russ for inviting the Bresky's to Bethany. I'm grateful to the Bresky's for inviting me to Bethany.
I"m grateful to Cindy, who was patient with me when I forgot her name the first several times we talked. I'm grateful to anyone else who had that experience with me. You seemingly tolerated it.
I'm grateful that Bethany is a place I can bring all of me into. I've had the experience in the past with churches where parts of me felt like they were 'too much'. Here I can bring that 'too much'. It wasn't a process, it just happened.
Thanks to Bud for sharing! He’s one of so many people making Bethany a home for open-minded, wholehearted, hands-on faith.
* You’re welcome to join the next book group on Thursday, Dec 5. We’re reading Miracle on 10th Street by Madeline L’Engle. Check back for more dates in the New Year. It’s been a hit with the folks who’ve gone!
BIG thanks to Sunday’s guest preacher, Rev. Jack Veatch. Jack was ordained July 14th of this year by the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ). Jack grew up in Cleveland, Ohio, little sister to Chicago, but has loved living in Hyde Park while he completed his Masters of Divinity program. Next month Jack will leave Chicago to move to Switzerland to complete a six-month Complimentary Certificate in Ecumenical Studies program which associated with the World Council of Churches and the University of Geneva. Jack hopes that his time in the program leads him to explore new ways for God's people to experience rest and renewal.
From Jack’s sermon:
It’s hard to take our rest seriously. The world, in so many ways, demands so many things of us. Their exists the superficial demands of businesses, and entertainment, trying to command our attention and our dollars. The real demands of how we scrape our lives together, how we pay bills and put food on plates. The demands which make life worth living, friendships, stories, adventures, love, weddings, birthdays. The demands of folks whose lives are in turmoil are real and important.
And our holy creator also demands of us that we rest.God did not finish creation on the sixth day, but creation was finished when God sanctified the seventh day and rested. Divinely modeled for us and Divinely demanded of us, that we rest.
Read the whole thing here.
During our Bethany Stories series, we’re hearing stories about our namesake, a town outside Jerusalem where Jesus’ friends Martha, Mary, and Lazarus lived. We’re also hearing stories from our Bethany, especially from the past year.
On Sunday June 2nd, we heard four stories. One of them came from Chris Bresky, an actor, artist, author of The Twelve Days of a Great White Christmas, and the brains (and heart) behind the Aquarius Project at the Adler Planetarium. Here’s Chris’ Bethany story:
“Would you call yourself an anxious person?” my therapist asked out of the blue. I was sort of stunned, I had actually been describing a thing that I thought was unrelated, so it caught me off guard……Well, I thought - my dad has anxiety, all of his six brothers and sisters do as well, my mom can’t sit still to save her life, and depression runs rampant throughout my family tree… “Would I call myself an anxious person?” Weeeeeeeell…….
Huh!
Wow, to understand, own, and even speak that word as a part of me: my leg, my arm, my Anxiety... was actually, incredibly freeing — overwhelmingly so… so much I had to tell somebody —
“Bud, guess what!”
I often walk my dog with my friend and fellow Bethany attendee Bud Longhauser. While walking our dogs “Freddie” and “Mr. Robot,” we often celebrate the deep emotional wins in our week’s therapy sessions… as bros are wont to do.
“Bud! I’m anxious! … I have anxiety!”
“Sure. I mean, great,” he said, ”but yeah, so do I. I mean, I’m glad you figured it out, but, many people do.”
It was such a non event. That was radical for me. To admit it, own it, and at the same time be reminded that I...and the majority of people I know, are humans...anxious, anxious humans.
The more I recognized it in myself… and finally fully heard the things my wife, M. (with her doctorate in psychology), had been telling me for the past seven years of marriage… oops.
I started recognizing it more and more, and how it affected me. It hit home when hearing Vince preach on the beautiful simplicity of the “Crappy Dinner Party.” The audacity, to not scrub to an unrealistic expectation, your floors, bathroom, and kitchen while trying to pull off the perfect - most nuanced recipe you randomly googled online minutes before their arrival.
In this particular sermon, Vince confessed his overly effortful acts of hosting at his home, where every guest towel is neatly folded, every visiting minute of a guest is crafted to specifically entertain the friend’s precise wants, both voiced, and inferred, and that they’re genetically are incapable of skimping on fanfare for a guest… and then he offered an alternative experience, a time where an old friend, after much too much time had passed, invited him over. The invite was during a time that wasn’t perfect, but was free...and he arrived to a messy house, where kids were far from “well behaved,” but life was real, and as a result, so was this long overdue reunion.The connection was deep. The value of his presence was not in question, even when he had to step over laundry piles to find a place to sit.
Days later, when I hear M. say to me, “I invited our friends over for dinner tonight,” I want to say, “Oh it’s been too long!” and really mean it, but my anxiety creeps in and I feel my chest tighten, my eyes dart to the long abandoned two year old’s finger paint project that has swallowed our kitchen table, the pile of dishes in the sink, and the dog (who should probably go out for a walk)chewing on god knows what... then I remember that M. and I have agreed with our friends that this dinner will be crappy… needs to be crappy… has to be crappy. I exhale, I take a pizza out of the freezer, and walk the dog. Our friends show up early, the pizza is still frozen solid, but that’s fine, cuz’ they brought half a bag of trail mix they found in the cupboard. A perfect pairing.
The night was perfect: Messy, disorganized, unplanned, and perfect. At one point they turned to us and said, “Ya’ know, we can do this more. We know your time is limited...we’d also just be open to just give you a night off some time.” … With a three year old, that gift, with no strings attached, the value...I can’t… all born from this beautiful crappy dinner.
I realized all the more how my anxiety, stuck in the unnecessary, was keeping me from rooting to the necessary: connecting with the ones I loved most. As I analyze my own anxiety I do often wonder about some of it coming from my embedded Christian goal to be a perfect “christ-like” individual. I wonder if it would help if I could reframe those narratives somehow. Like even the image of “The Last Supper.” To perhaps think of it less as this pristine, table clothed Last Supper, illustrated in classical paintings, but more of that night as “Jesus’ Last Crappy Dinner Party,” where although the bread and wine had meaning, the true gift was the love that he shared with his friends.
During our Bethany Stories series, we’re hearing stories about our namesake, a town outside Jerusalem where Jesus’ friends Martha, Mary, and Lazarus lived. We’re also hearing stories from our Bethany, especially from the past year.
On Sunday June 2nd, we heard four stories. One of them came from Scott Beaderstadt, an artist who’s worked for Marvel, DC, Disney, and created Trollords. He’s a long-time Bethany member, here since birth! Here’s Scott’s Bethany story:
As many of you know I am a sequential artist, which is a fancy pants way of saying I've made a profession of drawing comic books.
Part of this profession is attending the Comic Book Convention circuits. Comic Cons are events that geeks, nerds and trekkies would gather to meet creators, movie stars and artists. In most cases, comic conventions are multi-day events hosted at convention centers, hotels, or libraries throughout the country. They feature a wide variety of activities and panels for the whole family of kids of all ages. Comic book conventions are also used as a vehicle for the comic book industry, in which artists like myself would meek and greet new fans sign books and display sketches, original art and prints for sale.
If you where to attend one of these Comic Book Convention and stop by my booth you could look through my many portfolios and you would see a menagerie of prints of pop culture images like Spider Man, Bugs Bunny and Squidlly Didlly.
You would also find some more personal and spiritual works that I have done.
On occasion fans and perspective buyers would stop and give these images a second glance.
Many would say " I didn't expect to find this here".
I've never questioned what they meant by that.
You Didn't expect to find it at a comic Con?
You Didn't expect to find it in Artist Alley?
You didn't expect to find it in MY portfolio?
HUH.
I've always considered myself to be an open book when it comes to my religion. However I never mean to hit people over the head with my beliefs. God IS the constant source of creating and creation. ALL things come from GOD.
“See, I will not forget you. You are carved in the palm of my hands” (Isaiah 49:16)
I will let you in on a little secret about Artists. We never throw anything out.
If you could come over to my studio you would see pencils and erasers worn down to the nubs, Sketchbooks and little pieces of papers with notes and unseen ideas. Brushes and markers that have seen better days awaiting to be recycled.
About thirty years ago Paul Fricke and I did a black and white variation of these six Bethany Programs.
So this idea for these have been creeping and crawling in my noggin for a while now. Early in this year I presented these images to Rebecca and Vince. They gave their approval and said GO for IT. So I thought NOW was the time to give this "idea" a new fresh coat of paint.
Maybe in another thirty years I'll be more comfortable with my water color abilities and give these another go. (Mark your calendars.)
Now what I was going for here are images that while they stand on their own when put together they form something with a deeper meaning.
Every artist leaves a piece of themselves in every work that they do. Sometimes it's pretty darn obvious. Sometimes its' so subtle we don't even realize we are doing it. I'll admit, Many many times I'll get run down and discouraged. Dreams and projects have been so long in coming that I feel cast away and forgotten.
In doing these covers I was re-Inspired.
When looking at the final pieces all coming together People would pause and question, Are you divinely inspired ?
I don't know how to answer that. I suppose we ALL are. We each carry inside of us a Divine purpose. Why God loves us so much is beyond my human understanding. I tell others not to give up. Keep believing. Keep praying. Keep being wonderful. You may be ready to give up on a dream but God isn't. He still has a way to bring it to pass. He still has a plan and He's working right now to line up all the right pieces that will all fit together.
After all when it comes right down to it ...It's God's will.
Try topping that!
During our Bethany Stories series, we’re hearing stories about our namesake, a town outside Jerusalem where Jesus’ friends Martha, Mary, and Lazarus lived. We’re also hearing stories from our Bethany, especially from the past year.
On Sunday June 2nd, we heard four stories. One of them came from Bethany Arrington who first came to Bethany UCC only back in March (do you remember praying with sandpaper?). She’s an artist, an actor, a nanny (her smarty-pants kiddo says “glorified chauffeur”), and a new Sunday regular.
Here’s Bethany’s Bethany story:
The irony is not lost on me. I had been quite sure there was no church for me and this one has my name plastered on the front so when my future mother-in-law suggested we attend Bethany United Church of Christ she said (and I quote), “I think this Vince guy knows what he’s talking about and plus it’s your name! You have to go!” She knew that Alex, my fiance, and I had been searching for a new spiritual home. To Alex attending Bethany seemed like a no-brainer plus his mom suggested it! We have to go! I was not so sure.
When we stepped into Bethany for the first time I remember being greeted by the nicest gentleman and being handed a small sheet of sandpaper. I remember feeling relieved that Alex would have something to fiddle with during the service so I could focus on not having a panic attack and wait to catch someone judging what I was wearing. I was used to the subtle judgement one feels attending a new church. But, surprisingly, I didn’t catch anyone staring at me or my outfit. Instead I was overwhelmed with the hospitality and warmth of the congregation during the offering of the peace. You guys love to give peace! You practically jumped over those pews to shake Alex and I’s hand. I was also struck by the beautiful front altar and those stained glass windows. I was again surprised at finding myself comfortable in a church so unlike the one I grew up in.
I was raised non-denominational and in a mega church. Yes, think electric guitar, fog machine, rock-out-to-Jesus type worship with witty yet conservative sermons. Think sleek walls, three huge projector screens with aggressive graphics, and women not allowed in the proverbial pulpit.
When I moved to Chicago in 2011 for college I never would have attended a place like Bethany. I was desperately homesick and sought out a church like the one I grew up in. I ended up in a growing, non-denominational church in the Loop complete with the electric guitars and witty sermons. After college I devoted a lot of time volunteering there and they even hired me to teach and lead worship for their vacation bible school.
But I kept a lot of my life hidden from my “church family.” I didn’t tell them I affirm LGBTQ people, and always have. Even though I’m a professional actor, and my art is a huge part of my identity, I didn’t invite anyone to my shows, specifically ones where I kissed other women or swore even though I have a bit of a potty mouth in “real life.” I carefully skirted around my dating life, my political beliefs, and the people I spent my time with scared that church wouldn’t accept them or me. I sensed it wasn’t totally safe to say or be those things. I sensed there were lots of unspoken rules, and lots of strict ideology not on their website. I’d assumed for a long time this is what you did with people from church. Who the heck knows what plays might offend their pure Christian sensibilities? I get it. But the Creator I knew in my heart didn’t want people to be alone, to hide themselves. We are built for community but how can we safely enter community when judgement is one of the foundational blocks?
So after a few years of fear and subtle judgement in that other congregation I simply walked away and never went back. I was tired and scared and 8 months later when Alex and I walked into Bethany it was a big step for me. I think Alex was eager to make a new memory...to prove that church wasn’t always scary. He believed that we could find a church home accepting of all peoples in all places of life doing all sorts of things--including being artists who do plays that maybe aren’t “church appropriate" all the time. That we could find a place where I didn’t have to hide parts of myself. I talked to pastor Rebecca after our first service and Alex made me share a little of what had happened at the last church. Rebecca cut me off, “you’re tired of all the things that aren’t on the website” she said, her eyes warm and understanding. “You’re tired of not knowing if you’ll be accepted.” I felt so seen, so heard, and, most importantly, safe. The judgment I had become accustomed to had no home between these walls. It was obvious. I could bring my full self to Bethany UCC and I have. Thank you.
During our Bethany Stories series, we’re hearing stories about our namesake, a town outside Jerusalem where Jesus’ friends Martha, Mary, and Lazarus lived. We’re also hearing stories from our Bethany, especially from the past year.
On Sunday May 26th, musician, PhD candidate, and Bethany member Ann Ridge shared a story from the neighborhood, and about the ways a sermon changed her life (who knew!?). Here’s Ann’s Bethany story:
Mine is not a dramatic story. But it is a story of openness, projection, friendship, opportunity, and dare I say, transcendence.
As some of you know I live right up the street on Irving Park Road between Paulina and Hermitage. I bought my house thirty years ago when I wanted a home where I would be able to play music and not disturb my neighbors. At that time my neighbors were older German people who were fine neighbors, but everyone kept to themselves. Since then they have passed on and the new owners have renters, mostly young people who come and go. So, in a way, we have felt a little isolated. I’ve often wondered what it would be like to live in a real Chicago neighborhood with block parties and people getting to know each other. In my most envious moments, I’ve felt a little put out that no one from Paulina or Hermitage ever invited us to a block party. Even though I carved my Halloween pumpkins and religiously put them on my front porch, we’ve never even had a trick-or-treater.
So, last year, when Pastor Vince gave a sermon on being a neighbor during the Front Porch Series, to be honest I can’t remember exactly what he said, but whatever it was it charged me up. After church I marched home determined to reach out to my neighbors. That day, at my first opportunity, I saw our neighbors behind us across the alley—Amy, Chris and their towheaded little boy Jackson, about seven years old. As some of you know Greg and I have a jazz group called The Irving Park Trio that plays at Mrs. Murphy & Son’s Irish Bistro the first Friday of the month. So, I invited them to come an hear us play that Friday night. Amy said, “that sounds just great.”
That Friday night, when we walked into the Bistro to set up our equipment, who was there having dinner but Amy, Chris, Jackson, and their neighbors, Brian, Megan and their little daughter, Amelia. I was thrilled! It was so good to see them and what a wonderful surprise. Once we started to play, I was totally into the music, and if some of you have seen us play you know I’m totally focused on my sheet music and rarely look up. But then I did and what did I see but Amy, Chris, Jackson, Brian and Amelia—all dancing. I was just amazed and what a joy it was to watch them. How alive and fun and good. When we took a break Chris and Amy came up and told us how much they loved the music and would we be willing to play at the block party they were planning for the summer. A block party! “Of course,” I said. We would be happy to play.
The block party was that August and as planned we set up at the end of our block with all the food and people and kids playing scattered along the street. It was a beautiful, light-filled day and so very much fun. At the end of the day I was talking to a neighbor whose father had lived in the building at Paulina and Irving Park. She told me he had been the organizer for the block parties they used to have “back in the day.” It turned out that after her father left, they hadn’t had a block party in thirty years. I suddenly realized during all those years I felt excluded from block parties that never happened. All those years projecting my own thoughts onto the isolation I felt. Perhaps others felt isolated, too. It was a real eye-opener. Perhaps there is a new opportunity and it is right next door.
During our Bethany Stories series, we’re hearing stories about our namesake, a town outside Jerusalem where Jesus’ friends Martha, Mary, and Lazarus lived. We’re also hearing stories from our Bethany, especially from the past year.
On Sunday May 19th, regular Bethany visitor and dedicated Refugee One volunteer Hannah Rumsey shared some of her experience helping to resettle a refugee family (as part of our partnership with our friends and neighbors at Pilgrim Lutheran).
Hannah’s Bethany story:
For several months I’ve visited the refugee family from Burma. The father, Mohammad, speaks some English—and with him I can have short conversations, like remarking on the weather, or pointing to the sports game on TV and asking him if he likes to play. The 3-year-old girl, Nur Ritzke, is extremely outgoing, always chattering and bossing me around in Rohingyan, and saying occasional English phrases like, “OK,” “come on!” or when we leave, “thank you so much, bye-bye!”
The mother, Husen, speaks almost no English, and because of that I think, she is the most withdrawn when we’re there. The first couple of visits, she would sit a little removed from us, or be buried in cooking or cleaning. She has opened up more and more over time, but because of the language barrier I just didn’t know how to connect with her. So, I started by pointing to objects and asking her how to say it in her native language, Rohingyan, and I noticed that her usual look of vague panic or confusion would relax into a smile. So I kept doing it. Over time she’s taught me the words for many objects and animals, and the ONLY one that I’ve managed to remember is the word for horse. GOOLA.
The first time she taught it to me, was when Nur Ritzke got a wooden rocking horse. She dragged it out to the middle of the living room excitedly, chattering incessantly as her parents giggled and watched on from the couch. She got on the horse and then turned to me, pointing behind her and telling me what I assume was: “Get on! Get behind me.” I kept saying “I can’t, I can’t fit!” Because there was about this much space behind her, and there was no way that I would be able to fit without injuring me, her, or the horse, but I couldn’t explain that to her, so I eventually gave in and squatted in the air behind her, and we went on the fasted, silliest, rowdiest horse ride I’ve ever been on, yelling and “yeehaing!”—and if there was a landscape it would be ZOOMING past us, and the most amazing thing happened. We were ALL laughing, but Husen was laughing hysterically—hardly able to breathe, rocking back and forth on the couch, tears streaming down her face--the kind of laughter that happens when you’re with your best friend, and you’re doubled over, clutching at each other, dizzy and light and drunk with joy.
This went on for several minutes, and it was so simple, and spontaneous, and beautiful, to all be breathless and happy together.
For weeks after that, I kept going back to that horse. I was like a child telling the same joke to her parents over and over again, because it made them laugh that first time. “Goola!” I’d say, pointing to the horse, and we’d pull it out and play on it again, and it’d get a smile and a few chuckles, but it just wasn’t the same.
Nur-Ritzke pulled it out again several weeks later. I watched from a distance as she rocked faster and faster, and right when I started to think that she might be going too fast, the horse tipped over and she crashed onto the coffee table. She screamed and cried immediately, and in less than a second Husen was scooping her up, clutching her to her chest, frantically checking her head and limbs for injury, and then promptly whisked her away to the other room. I sat there, stunned, not knowing whether or not she was hurt, not knowing how to help. A few seconds later the crying stopped, and Husen slowly walked back into the room and sat on the couch with a teary Nur Ritzke in her lap. We were all quiet after that, not really knowing what to do or say, and I dragged the horse back to its corner.
And I was a little sad. Like the kind of sadness that I felt in high school when I got together with my old middle school friends and we would tell stories of the fun times we had together, but each time we told them we’d laugh less and less, because it had faded into something we could no longer grasp; like a memory of a memory.
I’ve found that there’s a melancholy that follows extreme joy. Especially when it’s shared. Because you know that you can’t experience it again, and you can’t recreate it. So I’m trying to be grateful that I did have a moment of intense connection, and look forward to the next one—which will probably come, as it always does, as a complete surprise and without any effort.
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