Isaiah 6:1-8 When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars that you have established; what are human beings that you are mindful of them, mortals that you care for them? Yet you have made them a little lower than God, and crowned them with glory and honor.  Psalm 8:3-5 “ If we really understood the Mass, we would die of joy. ” — St. John Vianney (the Curé of Ars)   “ And though all that remains of the Temple is one wall, still to stand and pray in that spot is to feel the presence of three thousand years of Jewish prayers. ”— The Rabbi Sacks Legacy   “ As he gazed at the icon of Mother Mary, he felt the Holy Mother’s arms opening wide and welcoming him .” — Professor Bruce Beck, Hellenic College of the Holy Cross   As we continue this sermon series on the wonders of life, last week we discovered how, through a deeper appreciation of nature, we could be more connected to God and more connected to ourselves. This morning, we find that some of the most traditional ways are still amongst the most powerful—finding God through sacred ritual. For me, one such moment took place at the Benedictine Abbey of Montserrat near Barcelona. It is a short train ride from the city to the foot of the mountain. You then find yourself in an absolutely spectacular setting, followed by a fairly rigorous hike of about an hour to the abbey. The physical exertion adds to the awe of the location. We arrived just in time to enter the abbey as a service was about to begin. It was packed—standing room only. As these children began to sing, a hush—a holy hush—enveloped the space. Their voices reverberated off the ancient stone, and the sound was of such crystal-clear purity that you imagined you were being entertained by angels. These diverse religious experiences all point to a similar thread, known in Hebrew as  Shekinah . Most religions and denominations have special pathways to cultivate an experience of the divine through space and place, or through deep listening made possible by the arrangement of prayers, candles, and incense. Shekinah  means “dwelling” and refers to God’s immanent, sometimes numinous, presence—a spine-tingling, hair-raising, ecstatic and surreal moment, Precisely Isaiah’s experience. He described a uniquely powerful moment of encountering God in the temple—one unlikely to be replicated for you or me. So where does that leave us? The temple has been destroyed, and God is not traveling in a pillar of fire as in the wilderness. But of course, the Temple’s destruction did not lead to the disappearance of the experience of God, but rather to its expansion across the world: “ After the destruction of the Temple, the synagogue became a miniature Temple… Jews discovered that holiness does not depend on buildings of stone but on acts of faith, study, and prayer… The Temple was never about a building. It was about creating a society of justice and compassion that would bear witness to God in the world… When the building was destroyed, the mission remained. In place of the physical Mikdash, the Rabbis taught, every home can be a sanctuary and every heart a fragment of the Temple. ” — Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, teaching on Tisha B’Av There is a thread not only throughout Scripture, but across the planet, of transcendent moments in which people of many faiths describe similar encounters with the surreal, the sublime, and the sacred. I will share with you several stories from a variety of traditions that I pray will help you find the practice that attunes you to these  Shekinah  moments. Art is an underappreciated vessel for the sacred in our Presbyterian world. As Pope Francis said: “ A work of art can open the eyes of the mind and heart… something bigger, something that speaks, capable of touching the heart, of communicating a message, elevating the soul. ” And the Orthodox Church has a powerful theology that connects people to God through art known as icons, described by Dr. Bruce Beck as “ windows into heaven. ” Until about fifteen years ago, I had absolutely no knowledge of this. On a journey I took with several clergy—a Baptist preacher, a Catholic priest, a Presbyterian minister, a Lutheran, and a rabbi—we found ourselves at the Orthodox Cathedral in Boston. There we were introduced to Dr. Beck, who shared the story of how he became an Orthodox Christian. He began as a Southern Baptist in Athens, Georgia, came to Boston to pursue a PhD, and met his wife there, an ancient Greece scholar. Through her studies, she was drawn to Orthodoxy and eventually converted. When their first child was born, he agreed to raise the child Orthodox. When his wife was too tired to take the baby to church, he would carry the child in a sling and walk quietly in the back of the sanctuary. He first noticed something changing when he found himself tearing up as the Gospel texts were read. He had studied those same texts academically, yet they had never moved him emotionally. Then one day, as he gazed at an icon of the Holy Mother, he felt her arms opening wide and welcoming him. He described this as a non-verbal experience of what he called  material holiness —the belief that the material world can be used by God to help the faithful in their journey toward God. He went on to describe the process of iconography: “ Iconography as a sacrament results from the icon’s and the iconographer’s communion with the Divine. The iconographer must engage in a spiritual discipline of fasting, abstinence, prayer, and Eucharist to prepare for a project. To execute an icon requires something of an ascetic lifestyle, which is why many iconographers are Orthodox monks and nuns. ” We Presbyterians are deeply concerned with things making sense, with a rational approach to theology and religious practice. I believe this is laudable and essential. I come from a family of academics, and I was a math major. For much of my life, I had a utilitarian approach to feeling- and experience-based religious practices. I was skeptical of them. But as I grow older, I find myself less concerned with explanations and more interested in exploration. I first heard this articulated by Dr. Peter Gomes when he was chaplain at Memorial Church at Harvard. He knew people like me well. In one conversation, he said something that has stayed with me: faith should be outlandish. He said, “ I want it not to make sense. When people come to my church, we do not do explanations. My goal is to keep the flame lit, not to explain the nature of fire. ” As people continue to hunger for more  Shekinah , old traditions are being repurposed and reinvigorated. A colleague of mine, the Rev. Bob Hurst in Alabama, told me about his encounter with Anita Diamant, author of  The Red Tent . They met at Mayyim Hayyim, a  mikvah —a place used by Jews for ritual immersion. Traditionally, women used the  mikvah  following their monthly cycle, and it is also used in conversion and other life-cycle events. But this  mikvah  has been re-envisioned as a place to encounter God. Diamant helped renew interest in this ritual, especially among Reform Jews in the Boston area. Many who have used it report powerful experiences of God. What is fascinating is that this most physical of Jewish rituals—one that literally places people in contact with their bodies—has facilitated profound encounters with the transcendent. Diamant said, “ A ritual that forces people to get out of their heads has facilitated the most powerful spiritual experiences .” For Muslims, it is the sacred Black Stone, believed to have fallen from Paradise and given to Abraham by the Angel Gabriel, touched or revered in imitation of the Prophet Muhammad. How can we learn from these traditions that are outside of our historic Christian practices as Presbyterians? Rabbi Jonathan Sacks wrote in  The Dignity of Difference : “ The test of faith is whether I can make space for difference. Can I recognize God’s image in someone who is not in my image…? If I cannot, then I have made God in my image instead of allowing Him to remake me in His. ” That is, if we affirm that everyone is made in the image of God and they have a seed of the Spirit planted within them, and even if they don’t have the same doctrine or faith that I do, they have something to teach me, something to share with me that I need to learn from. And it is not all about head knowledge. [[Time Out!]] [Occasionally in football the quarterback will call an audible and change the play. I’m calling an audible in the sermon and shifting texts! After all, tomorrow is Martin Luther King Jr. Day] I recently reread what is, for today’s geopolitical context, a world-altering text. It made me think about today’s world and how sad I am about the state of war and politics across the planet. The problems in the Middle East and Europe and Asia and Africa and in our country are not new; they have been with humanity always, but God offers a promise, a radical promise. In the nineteenth chapter of Isaiah, we are told a recounting of the idolatrous sins of Egypt and Assyria, both enslavers and conquerors of Israel. God promises wrath and judgment upon Egypt for its idolatry and past enslavement of the Israelites. But then the passage takes a radical turn. God promises not only to save Egypt and Assyria, but to bless them alongside Israel: “ Blessed be Egypt my people, and Assyria the work of my hands, and Israel my heritage. ” God’s power will make peace between nations, cultures, and religions long at odds with one another. These moments of reconciliation are among the most powerful ways of knowing the  Shekinah  of God. Which reminds me of our Christian understanding of God’s  Shekinah . And it came in the form of an infant who was laid in a manger. And he powerfully manifested the presence of God through bringing justice and dignity and hope to those who are despised by the world. He showed us that God’s justice and God’s holy presence are inextricably linked. And that when people experience the justice of God, they also experience the holiness of God. Jesus promised that wherever two or three are gathered in his name, he is in their midst. I would argue that whenever people gather—whether they know it or not—in the pursuit of harmony, forgiveness, and understanding across divides, they are gathering in the name of Jesus, the Prince of Peace. I am convinced that the path to healing this world is the path of respect, of listening, of understanding people who are not like us. It is the bridge that will be the forerunner to Isaiah’s vision of the healing of the nations. I am deeply grateful for the faith God has given me, for the family who instilled it in me, and for the privilege of serving the Presbyterian Church. It is my greatest honor. Yet I also know that my experience of God is incomplete. I do not know everything about God, nor does the Presbyterian Church. Every encounter I have had with people of deep and respectful faith—Muslims, Jews, Sikhs, Buddhists, Hindus—has enriched me immeasurably. Their willingness to share their own sacred ways of encountering God has expanded my heart and my understanding of the Shekinah, and given me hope for a new world. Amen.

When New York City became the first capital of the United States in 1789 the newly elected president needed a house for his family while residing here. A stalwart of the Brick Presbyterian Church happened to be living in a very stately mansion at 1-3 Cherry Street, and he offered it to President Washington. The church member (later Clerk of Session, President of the Board of Trustees and Elder) Samuel Osgood (1747-1813), was originally from Massachusetts, had previously studied theology at Harvard, been a colonel in the American Revolution, and was active politically. President Washington appointed Osgood to be the first Postmaster General for the new Federal government. Osgood’s second wife, Maria Bowne Franklin, whom he married in 1786 and by whom he had five children, was a member of the important Quaker Bowne family, and she was the widow of Walter Franklin, the previous owner of 1-3 Cherry Street. Her first cousin happened to be the established Quaker cabinet maker Thomas Burling. He was chosen to make furnishings in the Federal neo-classical style for the mansion, thanks to a grant from the congress, which detailed every item owned by the public in an Articles Furnished list. The furnishings later went to Philadelphia to the next presidential mansion. Burling’s shop was a few doors down from the Brick Church, then called the New Church, on Beekman Street. It was convenient for Washington, Jefferson and Knox to drop by, and one of their visits there was recorded in a newspaper at the time. Burling privately made furniture for these men as well as for the Clinton family and for Robert R. Livingston, who administered the oath of office to Washington. Additionally Burling’s partner made furniture in the prevailing style, replete with Federal motifs of eagle, stars, laurel leaves and classical columns for the recently refurbished Federal Hall on Wall Street. Going back to 1776, also known to General Washington was the minister, Dr. John Rodgers, of the New Church, which had become a jail and then a hospital in the hands of the British during the American Revolution. With the exception of a few loyalists, its members rushed from the city and did not return until the British departed on Evacuation Day in the fall of 1783. A pillar for the Brooklyn Bridge now replaces 1-3 Cherry Street. Fortunately the Bowne stationers building can be visited in the South Street Seaport restoration, so a bit of history of the neighborhood remains. Sadly, the Brick Church and Burling’s shop on Beekman Street have long vanished. So too has the resting place for Samuel Osgood, who published on religious subjects, and was buried on hallowed ground in a vault in the yard of his church on Beekman Street.

The Church Mouse Program will be starting up at Brick again this year to support Brick members at boarding school and college. If you have a child who is at boarding school or college and would like them to receive a care package from the Brick community, please fill out  this survey  by February 10. Our goal is to send one round of packages before spring break, and another during exam period. We will be gathering in the Carnegie Room after church on Sunday, February 22 to assemble care packages. If you would like to volunteer to help, please reach out to  Margaret Pennoyer  or  Sarah Johnson .

Please bring some extra cash to Sunday Worship on February 8th to donate and support our Confirmands' annual Souper Bowl Sunday. During this event, Confirmands research organizations that serve people in need and then have a debate on which organization(s) should receive the funds. Thank You!

What does the Lord require of you but to do justice and to love kindness and to walk humbly with your God? - Micah 6:8b Why at Brick Church are we looking at the 250th anniversary of our country?    Birthdays and anniversaries are times to reflect on what our life has been and what we hope it will be going forward. This year marks the 250th birthday of our country and its founding. And rather than focusing on a comprehensive history we will especially focus on the founding values.   It’s fascinating to look at these values because they are rooted in, and tied deeply back to, scriptural principles - such as “all are created equal,” “the rule of law,” and “we the people have rights bestowed by God.” Our founders, whether they were Christian or deists, all drew inspiration from Scripture’s witness to God, life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.   Brick Church’s history is effected by the history of our country and in knowing our past we can better understand our present and more consciously shape who God wants us to become tomorrow; to shape a future in which we are more faithful to the call of Christ to love God with all our hearts and our neighbors as ourselves.     Let’s take “the rule of law.” Of course, we know that the great gift of the law was given to the Hebrew people on Mount Sinai. The Ten Commandments organized them as a people and showed them how to treat one another fairly and how not to repeat the enslaving tendencies of the Pharaoh who mistreated them.   Now let’s look at “all are created equal.” These wonderful words were  radical  when Thomas Jefferson wrote them, but they spring from, of course, from the first chapter of Genesis: “In the image of God, He created them; male and female, He created them.” We are all made in God’s image; therefore, we are all equal.   Another thread of our founding, “we the people,” also began in ancient Hebrew times, when Moses grew weary of carrying all leadership and responsibility on himself. At God’s command, he gathered groups of elders and empowered them to share leadership. Then, in the New Testament, Paul tells us that “each is given a manifestation of the Spirit for the common good.” In other words, everyone has a voice. The United States of America was amongst the first countries to embed these ideas into its founding principles.    Though we are not founded upon one religion - our founders were clear about that - we were founded to be a country with religious principles woven throughout our life together. Many of our founders believed that a country like the United States could not function without the moral influence of religion because it is neither autocratic nor dictatorial. They understood that for these principles to work, morality was required - and that morality grew out of a deep understanding of religion.  Even so, through the First Amendment they explicitly forbade the establishment of a particular religion while ensuring its free exercise.    Of course, we also know that our country has fallen short, from the very beginning, of fully living into the founding values. In this series, over the next several months beginning in February, we will start with a dynamic guest preacher, Rev. Dr. Darrell Armstrong, pastor of Shiloh Baptist Church in Trenton, NJ.   Rev. Armstrong is a fellow of alum of Princeton Seminary and he  will help us understand moments in our history - such as what happened with Liberia - and ask hard questions about what our country was thinking at the time. He gained this perspective from first hand experiences and thorough research.  He will also help us recognize that although “all are created equal” remains an aspirational goal, we have failed to live it out fully, and that acknowledging those failures is part of faithful witness.   And so, throughout this series, we will explore these founding principles - both to give thanks for who we have been as a nation and to challenge ourselves to more fully live into them in a way that reflects the will of God.   As I reflected on these principles, I realized that if we were to sit down and write them today, we would likely arrive at a very similar list: “the rule of law,” “the equality of persons,” and “the people are sovereign,” not a king or a pope. In this way, our founding springs from the New Testament. The rights we hold do not ultimately come from a document in the Constitution; they are bestowed by God. From this conviction flows the notions of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness for all. And yet, we know that not everyone in our nation is able to fully pursue these aspirations. Therefore, we must acknowledge that rules and laws alone are not enough. Jesus tells us, “If you are free in me, then you are free indeed.”   We will also reflect on the nature of the Reformed Faith, which understands that faith is not a binding, duty-oriented effort to earn God’s favor. Rather, salvation is a gift from Christ - one that sets us free from constant anxiety about our worth or standing. It is, quite simply, a gift.   What does Christ expect of us in response? To go and change the world so that the kingdom on earth looks more like the kingdom of heaven. This is what we pray for every week in the Lord’s Prayer. In some ways, our nation incorporated aspects of this prayer into its founding values.   Throughout the series, we will engage the insights of Benjamin Franklin, George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, and others. We will also learn about the abolitionist David Walker, an African American writer of the 1800s, who warned of God’s coming judgment because of slavery and the denial of liberty - reminding us that if even one is not free, then none are free.   Finally, at Easter, we will shift our focus to the pursuit of happiness as defined by a biblical perspective: abundant life. True fullness of life is found in the gift of Christ’s love and life for us, and in God’s desire that we live abundantly. As a congregation, we will challenge ourselves to consider how we can live out our nation’s values through a Christian lens, so that all may know abundant life. Prayer of Confession:  Lord, 250 years ago a country was forged that affirmed all are created equal. Yet we have failed and continue to fail to treat everyone as beloved children of God. As Jesus Himself taught our acts compassion for others are also acts of love for Him. Show us the divine image within others that we might treat all as we would the Lord Himself. Amen.

Psalm 8:1-9  When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars that you have established; what are human beings that you are mindful of them, mortals that you care for them? Yet you have made them a little lower than God, and crowned them with glory and honour.  Psalm 8:3-5   “What are human beings?”  A deceptively powerful question from Psalm 8. The answer, of course, depends upon who you ask.  Ask a biologist:  Humans are classified under the genus  Homo , within the family  Hominidae (the great apes), order  Primates , class  Mammalia ,  phylum   Chordata , and kingdom  Animalia . Ask a chemist: We are a unique molecular arrangement containing the most fascinating molecule in the universe: deoxyribonucleic acid. Somehow, this amalgamation of atoms stumbled upon a way to replicate itself. And over four billion years, that molecule has come to dominate the earth through elaborate self-sustaining chemical interactions. But Psalm 8 has a decidedly different answer: Humans are a little lower than angels—or God, depending on the translation—crowned with glory, and given authority over the world. Modernity, however, has stripped away this perspective and replaced it with an operating definition that drains our true nature, making us blind to our noble state. Our culture tells us that we are our careers, our accomplishments, our families, our country, or our academic pedigrees. And we take these things very seriously—often to our detriment. Psalm 8 tells us we have been fed a lie. We are lofty beings, yet we have been brought low by a theory of knowledge that is purely empirical: that meaning can be measured. The French language gives us a helpful distinction here. (And I apologize in advance to the French for this oversimplification of their beautifully complex language.) It has two primary words for knowledge:  connaissance  and  savoir . I know that China is part of Asia. That is  connaissance . But I have never been to Asia. I know this fact, but I don’t know in my being what this implies. But I also know that golf is inhumanly difficult. And I know this because of my endless lost balls, shanks, and three putts. That is  savoir . I know the agony and ecstasy of golf. Our society has elevated  connaissance —the accumulation of information—over  savoir , knowing something in its depth, in its heart. And because of that, we do not know who we are. More tragically, we have forgotten whose we are. Even religion can fall into this trap. We can accumulate information about the Bible without allowing ourselves to be shaped by it. I saw this clearly when I wrote my doctoral dissertation on how people read the Bible. I interviewed one man—an engineer, a faithful servant of the church in Buffalo. He had retired and spent countless hours maintaining the church building, never charging us a cent. He knew more about the Bible than anyone else in the congregation, and he served more than almost anyone else. A good friend. But fascinatingly, though he knew, he did not believe a word of it and it meant nothing to him. He “ connaissance ”-d Scripture, but he was not known by it. Others, though not well schooled in Scripture, were clearly shaped by it. “ The Lord is my shepherd ” truly gave them the comfort of a pastoral God. They had  savoir  of the Lord. In order to know,  savoir , ourselves, we must first  savoir  the Lord. Barbara Brown Taylor, an Episcopal priest and author, names this distinction powerfully. She writes: The last thing any of us needs is more information about God. We need the practice of incarnation, by which God saves the lives of those whose belief has turned as dry as dust… Not more about God. More God. Though institutional religion may be waning in our society, a strong majority of people still believe there is more to reality than the empirical. According to Gallup, roughly 70 percent of people believe there is something spiritual beyond the natural world, even if it cannot be seen. We can come to know God more by knowing more about God’s creation. This is exactly what the author of Psalm 8 experienced. One can imagine him standing outside on a clear, cool night, gazing upward, overwhelmed by awe:  When I consider the moon and the stars… what are human beings that you are mindful of them? He gazed in slack-jawed awe at creation, but the awe that you and I have should be multiplied many times over. He had no idea just how astonishing the universe truly is. Those tiny points of light are massive balls of gas ignited by gravity. Stars are formed by microscopic dust drifting through endless space, colliding slowly until—suddenly—light bursts forth. He did not know that all physical matter is composed mostly of empty space. Atoms are infinitesimally small, yet only about one trillionth of their volume is actual solid! Imagine placing a marble at the center of a football field. That represents the nucleus of an atom. The electrons swirl around the outer edges of the stadium. And here is the truly astonishing thing: you can levitate. I can levitate. Every time we walk, we are floating one angstrom—one ten-billionth of a meter—above the ground, held up by repulsive forces much like two positive poles of magnets pushing against each other. When the psalmist looks at creation—and when we do—and then realizes that God has made us greater than all of it, simply astounding. So the challenge before us is to live as beings of lofty light. Brian McLaren, a leader in the Generous Orthodoxy movement, puts it this way: Spiritual practices are about life—training ourselves to become the kinds of people who have eyes and actually see… so that we experience—with increasing consistency and resiliency, even in economy class—not just survival, but Life—abundant, examined, conscious, worth living, and good. He wrote those words twenty years ago, before economy class became what it is today. Imagine being stuck in the middle seat on an eleven-hour economy airline flight with no legroom and a screaming baby. McLaren’s point is not merely that we survive such a flight—but that even there, life can be abundant. You might rightly say, “ Tom, this sounds wonderful—but it’s not possible. Not in this world .” I sympathize. My instincts tell me the same. But note the context of Psalm 8; it follows a series of psalms filled with anguish and despair, typified in Psalm 6:  “ I am weary with my moaning; every night I flood my bed with tears; I drench my couch with my weeping. My eyes waste away because of grief; they grow weak because of all my foes. ” (Psalm 6:6–7) These psalms (including Psalm 8) were written in a time of war and threat, when Israel was surrounded by enemies. Yet Psalm 8 lifts our eyes beyond the immediate moment to deeper truths. Psalm 8 was revolutionary in the midst of war, hunger, and inequality. In ancient cultures, only kings were believed to bear God’s image and thus they held all the power. But Psalm 8 declares that all people are crowned with glory and given authority. We acknowledge suffering—but as people of faith, we also acknowledge greater realities that center us and give us strength. The Lord knows every hair on your head. And God has entrusted you with authority over this extraordinary world; that is what Psalm 8 tells us. What greater compliment could God offer? We understand the power of nurturing. That is why classrooms keep pets—to teach children responsibility and care. And this nurturing mirrors the work of Christ himself. Jesus comes down, loves us, and gives his life for creatures who are, in all honesty, far beneath him—yet he chooses to remain with us. The psalmist knows our flaws. God knows them too. We are greedy. We blame others. We push people aside. And yet—we are crowned with glory. There is a hunger, Harvey Cox, a Harvard professor and author of  God in the Secular City , saw a resurgence of spiritual curiosity at Harvard—students wearing crosses and yarmulkes, flocking to a course on Jesus not taught since 1912. But the enrollment was only bested by Econ 101. And I suspect this hunger for more God is in part a hunger to know, to  savoir , ourselves. What are human beings? I leave you with this quote, the attribution of which I could not find: “ A human is dust lit by the breath of God—a fragile frame carrying immortal longings .” May we all truly know God, and in so doing even come to know ourselves. Amen.

Ephesians 1:3-14 Every morning in Africa, a gazelle awakens. It knows it must run faster than the lion or it will be killed. Every morning in Africa, a lion awakens. It knows it must run faster than the gazelle or it will starve. It doesn't matter whether you are a lion or a gazelle  —  when the sun comes up, you'd better be running. This parable has become the theme song for modern American life. We wake up on the run; we leap out of bed, take our showers, wolf down breakfast, if we have any,that is, get the kids off to school, and throw ourselves together on the way to work. Even if you’re retired, you busily jump from one activity to the next, and it’s common knowledge that retirement is no retirement at all, but simply a shifting of chores. The frenetic activity stays the same, but without any of the pay! There is a beetle in Africa who, I think, epitomizes the modern struggle. It spends all day every day shaping, molding, rolling, patting, creating perfectly round balls of... you guessed it, elephant dung. We frantically jump from one task to the next, and at times we feel as if our lives accomplish nothing more than putting a good face on a pile of, ahem, refuse. Unfortunately, this hyper useless activity does more than keep us busy, it corrodes our well-being. The  American Heart Journal  suggests it can lead to a heart attack. It lists the following as contributing factors in heart disease: time urgency; being warned by others to slow down; haste in walking, eating, or leaving the table after a meal; intense dislike of waiting in lines; loss of temper while driving; teeth grinding, and excessive irritation at the trivial mistakes of others. This dis-ease results not simply from over activity, but a deeper sickness of the soul, loss of meaning, of purpose. This void causes pain, which we try to ignore through toiling at vain tasks. When we discover ourselves toiling away uselessly, our pain multiplies, which leads us to increase our activity even more, thus trapping us in a vicious cycle. By ignoring our lack of purpose, our spirits wither and decay, eventually leaving a blackened, mean-spirited soul, much like Liza Hamilton as described in John Steinbeck’s  East of Eden : ...a tight, hard little woman, humorless as a chicken ...with a dour Presbyterian mind and a code of morals that pinned down and beat the brains out of nearly everything that was pleasant to do. If you can sympathize with Liza, if you feel anxious or sad for no good reason, if you simply cannot slow down, if you find yourself asking, “What’s the point?”, then I have great news. Ephesians shows us the way of meaning, thereby showing us how to make the fleeting states of love, joy, and peace that pop up when the conditions are right into stations, which are those same qualities now integrated and installed into our daily lives. In Ephesians 1:12, the apostle Paul tells us the meaning of life, “that we...might live for the praise of God’s glory.” Paul claims our purpose in life, our reason for being, is to offer praises to God’s glory. Admittedly, a lofty, esoteric answer, which at first glance seems to have at best a tenuous connection to humanity’s struggle for food, shelter, peace, and health, much less your daily battles to simply not go mad from the onslaught of pressures in modern life. However, we come here professedly as believers, and if you’ll have a little faith in Paul, we can see how one simple objective can change your life for good! Paul teaches us that we must live for the praise of God’s glory, but you and I have forgotten how. We have allowed ourselves to be distracted. Before we can live for the praise of God’s glory, we must be aware of God at all times. Theophan the Recluse, Orthodox mystic, hints how we might recall: Remembrance of God is something that God Himself grafts upon the soul. But the soul must also force itself to persevere and to toil. Work, making every effort to attain the unceasing remembrance of God. And God, seeing how fervently you desire it, will give you this constant recollection of Himself. Mostly, we think of God once, twice, maybe three times a week. George Herbert, 17th-century English poet, suggests otherwise, Sev’n whole days, not one in seven, I will praise thee. In my heart, though not in heaven, I can raise thee. Small it is, in this poor sort To enroll thee: Ev’n eternity is too short To extol thee Despite Herbert’s lofty ideals, our attempts to remember God for the most part amount to feelings of guilt and confusion concerning God’s will. Nevertheless, if you remember anything from this sermon, please remember this, praising God through your life, being faithful to God, does not mean you must spend all of your time teaching Sunday School or going to church or volunteering in some service project. God does not want us to spend all our time in church. Rather, God invites us to live out our lives, our normal routines, as acts of praise to God! Brush your teeth, for God! Kiss your spouse and praise God! Clean the house, call your friends, eat a grand feast, share something with your neighbor, and do it all for God’s sake! This is where our work enters in. This is the hard part. C.S. Lewis observed: That is why the real problem of the Christian life comes where people do not normally look for it. It comes the very moment you wake up each morning. All your wishes and hopes for the day rush at you like wild animals. And the first job each morning consists simply in shoving them all back; in listening to that other voice, ...letting that other larger, stronger, quieter life come flowing in. The challenge is to make the intellectual acknowledgment that we live to praise God a genuine, spontaneous thankfulness of the heart. Thomas Kelly, Quaker, insightfully comments, “ What is urged here are secret habits of unceasing orientation of the deeps of our being about the inward light... while we are also very busy in the world of daily affairs... ” A classic tale of Russian spirituality,  The Way of the Pilgrim , tells how to turn this desire of the mind into a prayer of the heart. It offers a path to make those fleeting states of love, joy, and peace, into permanent stations. It tells of a peasant whose first concern is to fulfill the biblical injunction to pray without ceasing.” Seeking for someone who can explain how, he wanders through Russia and Siberia with a knapsack, finally, he finds an old man who teaches him a constant, uninterrupted calling upon the name of Jesus, “ Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, ” during every occupation, at all times, in all places, even during sleep. At first, he says it 2,000 times a day, then 4,000, but still it is only a prayer of the mind. Eventually, he can repeat it more than 12,000 times daily without strain. This frequent service of the lips imperceptibly becomes a genuine appeal of the soul. The prayer becomes a constant warming presence within that brings a bubbling joy. Soon, he discovers he no longer needs even  to  say the words, for they truly have become a prayer of the heart. The ancient practice of reciting the Jesus Prayer, called Hesychasm, stems all the way back to the fourth century. Huston Smith, expert on world religions, wrote, “ Washing or weaving, planting or shopping, imperceptibly but indelibly, these verbal droplets of aspiration soak down into the subconscious, loading it with the divine. ” Once we become deeply aware of God within us, through us, and around us, then what we do inevitably takes on the cast of acts of service to God and moments of praise. Suddenly, the meaning of life becomes clear to us. The sense of purposelessness disappears, even though for the most part we still perform the same tasks as before. Even though our daily routine remains unchanged, but for one small detail, the unceasing recitation of the name of the Lord. Our purpose is to simply do what we do each day for God. Paul is so excited over these truths that our entire scripture is one long sentence! And  it  all builds up to our climax: We were chosen in Christ, destined for adoption,instilled with wisdom, blessed with every spiritual blessing, forgiven, and redeemed... All so that our meaning of life might be fulfilled, so that we might live for the praise of the divine glory! Simply by existing, by walking, eating, crying, laughing, living, dying, we are a witness to the praise of God’s glory! Frederick Buechner said it very well, “ Each life is not just a journey through time but a sacred journey .” Amen.

We are delighted to welcome our new Wilson Family Sacred Music Intern, Kingsley Wood! Kingsley will be with us for the month of January. Hailing from Leonia, New Jersey, Kingsley is an organist, pianist, and vocalist. He is currently enrolled in his fifth year in the dual-degree program at Oberlin College, where he studies organ performance with Professor Christa Rakich, as well as mathematics. He is presently serving as organist at the First United Methodist Church of Elyria, Ohio. Outside of music and academia, he is an advocate for sustainable urban development. The Wilson Family sacred music internships allow students from Yale and Oberlin to work at Brick from September through May, developing musical skills in performance, accompanying, and conducting, and enriching the life of our congregation. Brick Church is deeply grateful to Don and Lynn Wilson for their continued support of this valuable program.

Registration is now open for Winter Musical Theater classes! Featuring artists from Brick Church Community Theater, these performing arts classes will help students increase their confidence, build self-esteem, and explore self-expression in a supportive environment. View our 2024-2025 class photos and video below! Winnie-the-Pooh - Photos | Winnie-the-Pooh - Video  (Ages 4-6) Matilda – Photos  | Matilda - Video (Ages 7-10)

Shared during Sunday Worship on December 28, 2025. Incarnate God, with the angels we glorify your name, and with your servant Mary we treasure the good news of your coming in our hearts. We thank you for all that you have given us. For times of rest and relaxation; for friends and family to cherish; for warm shelter on cold days; for communities that nurture us. We are especially thankful for your presence with us. You have spoken to us through your prophets and lived among us in Christ. And you continue to dwell among us, speaking to us through your Word, guiding us by your Spirit, and drawing us to you through worship and the sacraments. It is easy to forget that your presence is a precious gift. For that gift, dear Lord, we give you thanks and praise.   Glorious God, when the angels announced your Son’s coming, they proclaimed your will for deep and lasting peace. We pray for the redemption of the world from the forces of evil, for the growth of your Kingdom, for reconciliation and renewal.  We lift up all the nations of the world, especially Ukraine and Russia, Israel, Palestine and Syria, Nigeria and Venezuela, and all other countries facing violent conflict.  We pray for our own nation, that our shared life will be characterized by justice and that we will be a source of peace throughout the world. We pray for New York City and its leaders, that they will seek the common good in all that they do, and that they will promote harmony and the flourishing of all the city’s residents. We pray for the church universal, its mission, and its leaders, that together we will bear fruitful witness to your grace for all people. And we pray for our congregation, especially for our ministries and ministry partners. May we be a beacon of hope and a source of light for all those who need it. Finally, Lord, we pray for those with particular needs during this Christmas season: for all who are sick or suffering; for all who are isolated or lonely; for all who are weighed down by anxiety or sorrow. Comfort, comfort your people, O God.   Gracious God, make your presence felt in each situation, and empower us to be instruments of your peace. We pray this in the name of he who took on flesh and lived among us, Jesus, our Lord. Amen.

Shared during Sunday Worship on December 21, 2025. Lord, Your joyful radiance shall be born into our world sooner than we can imagine. It is good news of a great joy for all people.  Good news that came first to a young girl named Mary, who shouted with joy at Your love and justice for all people.  It came to Peter and Paul when You called them by name and forgave them for their weakness and sin. This joy could not be contained into one time and place and so it spilled over the world and down through history, though there have been many dark times which threatened to dispel it.     The depth of human sin has sought to quiet it, greed, lust and war have tried to pervert it.  Others try and hold onto it so that it is all their own and no one else’s.  But thanks be to You O God that it cannot be quenched because the songs of angels reach through the clouds into many surprising places. When we see this joy on the faces who have so little; we realize that our own joy, peace, and love could be so much more. It will come not through more things but through greater justice, and deeper sharing— sharing not just what we have but who we are. We pray that this good news of great joy might work to heal the wounds which so trouble our lives and our world.   We pray that reconciliation might come to our world. We pray that Your forgiveness and the gift of the Christ child might serve to heal the breach of politics in our land.  Make us one people again and help us to work as one for the betterment of the whole planet. Be with those who dive into places that are most bereft of this joy. Our military, keep them safe. Give those serving overseas and away from family a special measure of your Spirit’s presence that they may not feel alone though they are an ocean away.  We pray for all of those who work deep into the night when others are at home, warm in their beds: utility workers, emergency room nurses, doctors and technicians; janitors who clean our building buildings until late at night, and truck drivers who travel on dangerous roads to bring our goods. Keep all of them safe and help them feel a measure of our thankfulness.   We pray that each one of us might know the fullness of the good news in the depths of our hearts that our own joy might infect all with Your grace and love, the name of the one whose life gives us life. Jesus the Christ, Jesus the Christ, the one who was, who is, and who is to come, world without end, amen.

The All-Church Nominating Committee (ACNC) is seeking your suggestions for Brick Church officers. Your involvement is crucial to identify the best possible candidates whom God is calling to take positions of responsibility at The Brick Church. The ACNC is identifying candidates for Deacons, Ruling Elders, Trustees, and 2027 ACNC members . Please prayerfully consider recommending members of The Brick Church as candidates for these positions. Important criteria to consider include a commitment to the Church, regular attendance at Worship, time, and willingness to serve, and personal characteristics of dedication, good judgment, and the ability to work well with others. Self-nominations are also accepted. The deadline for recommendation submissions is January 18.