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Having recently returned from walking the Camino de Santiago I am often asked the same questions. How was it? Great! Challenging. Inspiring. Tiring. How are your feet? Healing well, thanks be to God. How far did you walk? Over 80 miles in six days. These questions are easy to answer. But when I’m asked, What did you learn? I pause. Truth be told, I’m still processing. The last few days at home, I’ve been pretty quiet. Contemplative. 

When I agreed to the trip, I knew it was in part to prepare to lead a group of our own. So there was a work aspect there. But then there was the personal too. I assumed I’d process some of my loss over the past 1.5 years. I also thought I’d plan for the next year of ministry. Somehow that did not happen, even when walking 8 hours a day. So what did happen? Perhaps for the first time in a very long time, I simply allowed myself to exist in the present. 

It didn’t start that way. The first day we planned to walk 18 miles. I was anxious and unsure if I could walk that far. For the first 45 minutes of walking I had to talk myself down and just focus on one step at a time rather than the entire journey ahead of me. Eventually I fell into a rhythm. One step. One step. Before I knew it, I had reached the 5 mile mark. Maybe I could do this. It’s freeing ‘to let go’ of the finish line and instead focus on the journey. When I did, I discovered I also released self doubt and fear of failure. In the end, I proved to myself that I could do it. 

By day four I learned another valuable lesson. I’m not alone on this walk. I know that sounds obvious but let me explain. It’s easy to focus solely on yourself. On packing just enough water and snacks that you need so your pack isn’t too heavy. On getting your own two feet to the finish line so you can finally get those sore feet elevated. But when that’s all you’re thinking about, you forget there are others on the journey alongside you. Yes, their journey is their own–but they are on the Good Way too. And they might need your company or help. And you might need theirs. 

Blessed are you, pilgrim, if you discover that a step back to help another
is worth more than a hundred steps forward without looking at your side. 
~From The Pilgrim Beatitudes 

I’m still processing. But these two lessons I carry with me now: 

1. I can't change the past and I can’t predict the future. So how do I live today? I’ve missed a lot of God’s beauty around me and I’ve robbed a lot of people of my presence because I’m dwelling everywhere else but here and now. 

2. How do I recognize and honor the humanity of those around me? We are all on a journey through this life. As Christians we journey together in faith–wrestling, doubting, celebrating, hoping. We were created by a Triune God to live within the blessings of community. So yes, carrying extra snacks might weigh you down, but it might be the sustenance your fellow pilgrim needs. And yes, slowing your pace to the finish line might delay your arrival, but it means you aren’t celebrating that arrival alone.

Blessed are you, pilgrim, if what worries you most is not arriving, but arriving with others.

Growing up I had a wall hanging in my bedroom. It was a rectangle of felt fabric with wood at the top and the bottom and it had a poem printed on it. The poem was called Children Learn What They Live. It was written by Dorothy Law Nolte in the early 1950s. I wonder if this poem is familiar to you.

Essentially, Nolte, a parent educator, family counselor, and author, shows the correlation between what children are exposed to and how they will live in their lives. She presents this correlation:

If children live with criticism,
they learn to condemn.

If children live with hostility,
they learn to fight.

If children live with shame,
they learn to feel guilty.

If children live with acceptance,
they learn to love.

These are just a few examples.

And while I’m not a psychologist, I do find it amazing when we start looking at our own lives and when we start sharing our stories with one another, how much of our own value system and how we see the world is shaped, for better or worse, by the things we were exposed to as children.

Some years ago I took a test on implicit bias for the first time. Have you heard the term? This term is used to describe the attitudes we have toward people or the stereotypes we have without our conscious knowledge – without recognizing that we have them. Most implicit bias tests are used to help us understand our own implicit biases and then, perhaps, begin to examine the ways that those implicit biases affect our interactions with people in the world.

You can find lots of implicit bias tests on the internet, and they’re of varying degrees of complexity and length, but the ones I’ve spent the most time with are from Project Implicit at Harvard University. You can find the Project Implicit tests here. 

Harvard has more than a dozen tests that analyze implicit bias on a number of topics, from religion to race to physical appearance and age and gender. Like the Children Learn What They Live characteristics described by Dr. Nolte in her poem, these implicit bias tests are meant to help us understand how we’re shaped to see the world – and then how we live in the world – and how we interact with others. 

For me, that first time I took an implicit bias test, I was really upset and I was defensive after reviewing the results. I felt that the summary didn’t really describe me and I tried to explain away the results – as though I was a lawyer defending against the evidence.

For what, though? To what end? The value of this test, for me, was actually in learning more about myself – about what makes me do the things I do and what affects how I treat other people. That’s really what these tests are all about – how we treat other people – whether we know it or not.

Whether we’re aware of it or not.

This past Sunday, I asked us to each consider the people we might not see in the world. Who are the messengers, like Rhoda, whom we ignore because of their status in life or some other characteristics? I shared that I had to ask myself these same questions. Who do I not see? Who do I ignore who might be carrying the truth? I found it difficult, precisely because if I don’t see someone, how am I able to acknowledge that I don’t see them. I spent a bit of time thinking through this, and then, among other things, I sat down and took a few of the implicit bias tests and opened my eyes a little bit more.

While I acknowledge that these tests are not perfect and are subject to criticism, for my individual purposes I have found that the shift in perspective is helpful for me as I seek to do the difficult work of examining how I see the world and how God calls me to improve myself and love God’s world a little bit more. Give it a try!

Scene: A bustling beer garden in Lübeck, 1705. Dieterich Buxtehude and Johann Sebastian Bach sit at a wooden table, each holding a colorful, oversized stein of robust malty lager.

Buxtehude: (raising his stein) Well, if it isn't young Johann Sebastian Bach! I must say, I'm impressed by your dedication, walking nearly 400 kilometers from Arnstadt just to visit me. (chuckling) I hope your feet aren't too sore!

Bach: (grinning and taking a swig of beer) It was quite the journey, Herr Buxtehude, but well worth it to finally meet you in person. Your reputation as a master of the organ precedes you. I simply had to come and learn from the best!

Buxtehude: You flatter me, Johann. But I am curious, what route did you take to get here? Surely you didn't walk the entire way?

Bach: (laughing) Actually, I did! I followed the Old Salt Route. Took me a good while, but the anticipation of hearing your famous Abendmusik concerts kept me going.

Buxtehude: (looking impressed) That's quite the feat! You must really love music to undertake such a trip. Speaking of which, I've heard you're quite the talented organist yourself. What brings you to seek my advice?

Bach takes a sip of his beer and leans forward, a glint of admiration in his eye.

Bach: Well, Herr Buxtehude, I've been studying your compositions, and I'm particularly fascinated by your Prelude in C Major, BuxWV 137. The way you structured it is absolutely brilliant!

Buxtehude: (puffing up with pride) Why thank you, Johann! I like to think of it as a musical journey - you know, keep the listener on their toes!

Bach: (nodding enthusiastically) Absolutely! That opening pedal solo is a real showstopper. How do you manage to make your feet dance like that?

Buxtehude: (winking) Ah, the secret is in the shoes, my boy! I have special clogs made just for organ playing - they give me the perfect balance of flexibility and precision.

Bach: (chuckling) I'll have to get myself a pair! But seriously, the way you transition from the free, improvisatory style of the pedal solo into that tight, complex fugue - it's masterful.

Buxtehude: (grinning) The key is to keep 'em guessing! Just when they think they've got you figured out, BAM! Hit 'em with a subject entry in the subdominant.

Bach: (shaking his head in amazement) And don't even get me started on that chaconne at the end. The way you spin out those variations over the ostinato bass - it's hypnotic!

Buxtehude: (leaning back with a satisfied smile) It's all about building tension, my dear Johann. You've got to make them feel like they're on a wild carriage ride - just when they think they can't take any more, you bring it all home with a triumphant cadence!

Bach: (looking thoughtful) You know, I might just try my hand at a chaconne myself one of these days. Any tips for creating that sense of endless invention?

Buxtehude: (smirking) Well, you could always try my patented "Buxtehude's Bottomless Barrel of Ostinato" technique - just keep pulling out variations until the congregation cries for mercy!

Bach: (laughing heartily) I'll keep that in mind! That's invaluable advice, Herr Buxtehude. I can't wait to apply these concepts to my own work and career.

Buxtehude takes a long swig from his stein, then leans in with a mischievous grin.

Buxtehude: You know, Johann, there's another way to secure a good organist position… marry your predecessor's daughter!

Bach: (nearly spits out his beer) Wait, what?? Is that how you got your job?

Buxtehude: (chuckling) Yep! Married my wife Anna Margareta and got the gig. Speaking of which... (wiggling eyebrows) My daughter is still single, if you're interested in taking over when I retire.

Bach: (turning red) Uh, thanks for the offer, but… uhm… I think I'll pass. Didn't you try to pull that move on Handel too?

Buxtehude: (sighing dramatically) Yeah, he ran off faster than a fugue subject! Can't blame a guy for trying to keep it in the family.

Bach: (snickering) Well, I admire your commitment to tradition. But I'm happy in Arnstadt for now - plus, I've got big plans to become a famous composer myself someday!

Buxtehude: (raising his stein) I'll drink to that! Just remember, when you're the big shot, some kid might walk 400 km to learn from the great Johann Sebastian Bach.

Bach: (laughing) And I'll be sure to offer up my daughter's hand in marriage - it's only right! But in all seriousness, I can't thank you enough for sharing your insights. This has been a truly inspiring visit.

Buxtehude: (smiling warmly) The pleasure is all mine, Johann. But promise me one thing - when you're the toast of the organ world, don't forget the old master who taught you everything you know!

Bach: (placing a hand over his heart) I swear on my trusty walking shoes - the name Dieterich Buxtehude will always be synonymous with organ greatness!

The two composers clink steins once more, their laughter mingling with the intricate counterpoint of their musical philosophies - a harmony that will resound through the ages, long after the last notes of BuxWV 137 have faded into the Lübeck night.

….

Written in creative collaboration with Claude AI.

Last week, I had the opportunity to attend the Presbyterian Older Adult Ministry Network (POAMN) annual conference in Solana Beach, CA. POAMN has been around for a little over 40 years, having been established around the time of the “reunion” of the northern and southern Presbyterian denominations. In their own words, POAMN describes their mission: 

To promote the development of older adult ministries and the value of such ministries. POAMN’s mission includes nurturing the faith community, equipping leadership, and resourcing congregations and other organizations that minister to, for, and with older adults. POAMN seeks to encourage ministries that affirm the dignity and value of the multiple generations of aging adults with a focus on spirituality, wellness, care, and social involvement. Its purpose is to educate, advocate, develop and share resources, and train leaders by raising awareness around issues facing aging adults and those who serve those aging adults, all in a covenant relationship with the Presbyterian Mission Agency of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.). https://poamn.org/who-we-are/ 

When I first arrived at the conference, I wasn’t sure if I would know anyone, but I figured I’d had to know at least somebody; the Presbyterian world is actually quite small. As it turned out, there were two other folks from Arizona, a minister, Rachel, from de Cristo Presbytery and Larry, an elder from Casa Grande. We formed a little cadre, sharing stories and brainstorming ideas for promoting POAMN in our two presbyteries. There were about 70 other people there, from all over the US, everyone dealing with similar issues around the aging of the PCUSA. 

Our workshop choices for the 2-day conference dealt with issues around: retirement, caregiving of significant others, dementia, grief, loss, loneliness, isolation, intergenerational connection, spiritual growth, gratitude, and storytelling.  We talked and shared ideas about older adults’ involvement in mission, both local and global, like starting tutoring programs or making “quilts for those in need.” And amid all the discussion, I had the chance to reflect on how Pinnacle “scores” in terms of addressing the concerns of those living in their “third thirty.” What I can say is that we, as a church, are primed to build on what we are already doing: shaping community and connection where older adults are valued, engaged, and given resources to address changes and transitions with a depth of faith and love. 

And we can be more intentional about helping those in our community understand when they are feeling isolated, alone, and insignificant, and how to overcome these…through community connection. We have a number of Stephen Ministers who help the pastoral staff address these issues, one on one. We also have fellowship groups where learning and enrichment occur both socially and spiritually. And we would benefit from some more intentional programming around “navigating grief,” and rediscovering purpose as aging brings about change in health, ability, mobility, and mental acuity. 

One take-away from this conference that I look forward to working on here at Pinnacle is helping older adults tell their story. Having worked with SAGE (our Wednesday Senior Adults Gaining Enrichment) group for the last six years, I have heard amazing stories about all the things our Pinnacle members have done in their lives. Pastor Erik modeled storytelling in his first sermon in the “Women of the Early Church” series. I hope you got the chance to hear him talk about his Aunt Helen, who had multiple degrees, was a professor, wrote books, and she prayed for everyone in her address book, and prayed over stories she highlighted in the newspaper. And, Erik has asked for congregation members to send in pictures of women who have shaped their faith, and to tell their stories. 

In the coming year, here at Pinnacle, we’ll be doing intentional education around aging, health, and dying. In the midst of this, we will be seeking to form community across generations and help our older adults tell their stories to one another and the next generations. 

I am certainly glad to attend the POAMN conference, to see what we at Pinnacle are already doing well and what we can improve on. Please let me (mhegeman@pinnaclepres.org) know what ideas you have for telling yours and others’ stories, and how we can continue to build a loving and gracious web of faith-filled connection.

For me, summer has always been a time to recharge and find inspiration in the quieter moments that typically get overlooked during the regular season hustle. With the usual busy schedule winding down, there is finally space in the day to relax, reconnect, and reflect.

I cherish those peaceful mornings with a cup of coffee on our patio, enjoying the calm before the day begins. Even the birds tend to give into this slow hour before beginning their busy day of song. Our own toddler always seems to sense the tranquil AM and will simply gather herself and blanket on the couch and slow-rise the day with us. These moments of solitude provide a chance to gather my thoughts on the previous day as well as what's to come.

Connecting with family and friends takes center stage during these hot months. Whether it's a trip to the movie theater, a game night, or simply inviting loved ones over for a meal, times like these together are precious and sacred. It's about enjoying each other's company without the usual rush and non-stop go, go, go. 

On a personal note, summer is for reflection. Whether through reading, meditating, or simply stepping away from the usual routine, these moments help me recharge and refocus. They prepare me to return with renewed energy and enthusiasm for the next season.

The summer slowdown also sparks creativity. With fewer rehearsals and meetings to prepare for, there's room to explore new music and new styles. This is the perfect time to experiment and find fresh inspiration to bring new ideas to the music.

In essence, summer is about renewal. It's a time to rest, reflect, and get inspired. These months of relaxation and introspection are crucial for bringing new energy and creativity to our music when the busy season rolls around again.