Thanksgiving now resides in our short term memories.  Americans celebrate that day with family, feasting, and football.  Now, we're back to work. What lies before us is a month long season of buying and wrapping and listening to Christmas music until we can hardly stand it.  December 26th can't come soon enough.  And that is no way to enter the season of Advent.  What Christ the King Sunday announces, Advent will accommodate.  The Shalom promised in the Reign of Christ will come to the people of earth as a baby,  But first, there will be signs and warnings and angels.  There will be anxious wonder and fearful plotting and bewildered shepherds.  God has ordained a season of patience as we watch for the coming of our salvation.  Advent provides us time to remember and prepare.  It sneaks onto history's calendar and seeps ever so slowly into our hearts.  It is for the Church to demonstrate its faith to the world.  God's time is always gracious.  God's promises are always kept.  God's salvation will come.  And for a while, we wait.

This year Thanksgiving brings an extra bit of joy to the Henry family.  Jack Callum VanVlerah came to us November 11.  As I sit across from him this Tuesday morning before Thanksgiving he's sleeping.  I'm trying to remember when his mother was only ten day old.  I can't do it.  My memories of when Sarah was only days old are lost somewhere in my mind.  Same with our two sons.  Those very first days of their living aren't easily brought to mind.  However, in those days and in every one since, they brought joy and grace to their family.  Jack is continuing that giving to his family.  Grandparents and aunts and uncles are making room in their hearts for this new gift.  Our various Thanksgiving tables will have one more life for which to give thanks.  Welcome to the family, Jack Callum VanVlerah.  May all your Thanksgivings be memorable.  Even if you'll have to be told about the earliest ones by your folks and your grandpa.

Sunday’s worship service was blessed with seven of our Calvary Veterans receiving blankets made by our Purple Hearts women.  The blankets were of patriotic colors and blessed with prayer after they were made.  This blanket ministry has become a mission at Calvary.  A couple dozen women and benefactors make it possible for these warm blankets to be given to an assortment of people; those recovering from surgery or illness; those who are mourning the loss of a family member; those who are home bound or in nursing homes.  I am blessed with the privilege of being able to present many of them.  I'm expected to keep one in my car for "emergencies."  Just in case I see someone who needs one.  In this, I am your ambassador.  And with the blankets, we spread a message of love and comfort and compassion and thanksgiving across our community.  I can think of no more gracious way to be known, for that sums up the Gospel in a nutshell. 

Armistice Day marks the end of World War I.   At the 11th hour on the 11th day of the 11th month in the year 1918 a grisly war came to an end.  This 11th of November will mark its 99th anniversary.  Today the United States marks the end of WWI noting it Veterans Day.  My Great Uncle Raymond N. Crull fought in the War To End All Wars.  He gave me his dog tags and his Victory Medal one summer before I was graduated from high school.  I also have his shaving kit, his spats, and a field typewriter he picked up off the battle field.  Little did I know of his war record.  His dog tag number was 36003.  He was among the very first of the over 4 million US service men who served. WW I was a nightmare of a war.  The Battle of Verdun began February 21, 1916 and raged for 303 days until December 18^th.  It's estimated there were over 97,000 casualties each month in that battle; killed, wounded, missing.  The Battle of the Somme began on the 1st of July that same year and finally came to an end 141 days later, on the 18th of November.  The British Army suffered 57,470 casualties the very first day.  The artillery barrage, which was supposed to soften up the Germans, was so loud, it was heard across the English Channel that morning before dawn.  Over all there were approximately 39 million killed, wounded, or missing in the war.  It is thought there were more that 68 million combatants.  We remember the sacrifices of those who served and those who suffered death or wounds or whose fate remains unknown.  It is a solemn thing for the living to remember and to honor our veterans.  Having my uncle's dog tags, I will wear them every day during this 99th year.  I will do it to remember him and his comrades.  Thank you for your service Uncle Raymond.  And Rest In Peace.

Today, November 1st, is All Saints' Day in the Church.  It is the day the Christian family of faithful members celebrates the lives and the witness of her saints.  The whole of the Church of Jesus Christ recognizes this day as a feast day of extraordinary importance.  There are well known saints, of course.  Saints Matthew and Mark and the Apostles (but not Judas).  Jesus' parents Saint's Joseph and Mary stand along countless others whose lives were, and still are, examples of devotion to God's Son and His Kingdom.  While there are official procedures for "making" saints across the Christian community, we need not rely only on the official list of saints as being exhaustive.  This Sunday we will name and remember our saints; those of our loved ones who have died and now rest in peace with Jesus.  We will light candles, a bell will toll, and our hearts will pause.  A flicker of light will draw our eyes to something more precious than words can describe.  The gift each of our departed saints has been to us will be honored.  While their earthly form will not be in our midst, their presence will not have departed from us.  In their baptism they live as surely as do we who breathe.  Their status as saints of the Church isn't a reward for good living.  It isn't a consequence of merit of any kind.  They join the angels and arch angels and the entire Host of Heaven singing praises to God at the Throne of Grace.  This we remember.  This we claim to be true.  This we await one day for ourselves.  Praise be to God: Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

One of the skills I learned in the Boy Scouts was how to read a map and use a compass. It was way back in the 60's, before the Global Positioning System; GPS from here on.  Off we'd be in some kind of wilderness and we had to find certain landmarks and bring back items our Scoutmasters left on the trail.  That was to prove we actually followed the map.  We were, after all, learning skills necessary for advancing toward our next award, be it a Second Class or First Class Scout.  Remember road maps and how it took a genius to refold them once they were used?  I remember my dad trying to read a road map while driving and my mom telling him it wasn't safe.  He'd hand her the map and keep driving.  I'm sure we were lost once in a while, but i never remember not getting where we were going.  Now we have Garmins and TomToms and cell phones with GPS tracking capabilities.  We can go anywhere from wherever we are and needing to read a map seems an antiquated skill.  I don't even know if the Boy Scouts teach using a map and compass anymore.  Once in a while I'll read of someone being "misdirected" while following their GPS devise.  They would find themselves either simply off road or in a lake.  That would be tragic, of course.  There are other kinds of "map reading" which has nothing whatsoever to do with knowing North and South or miles or the terrain.  For example, navigating a career or a tragedy or a betrothal.  What map helps when traversing the dilemma of choosing the correct decision when conflicting ethical demands are at odds?  Like some elections when we think none of the candidates should be considered for sainthood?  In closing, just remember this: Jesus not only invites us to follow him, He not only knows the way, He is The Way.  And He can't be folded up and stuffed back in the glove compartment.

I want to apologize for miss-leading our congregation Sunday.  Near the beginning of the service I quoted the 8th Commandment "Thou shalt not steal."  I should have known that would be a jarring statement.  And it was, as I have heard.  My attempt at a very inside joke was inappropriate.  I am sorry for the concerns it generated.  I can assure all of you we do not have a theft problem at Calvary.  I know of no incidents that would give us reason to be worried about theft.  Our offerings are safe.  Our property is safe.  Our offices are safe.  No one should believe we are at risk for theft.  No accusations have been made.  I was too flippant Sunday morning and I regret it deeply.  I am available to anyone who wishes to discuss this further. 

Pastor’s Memo… Most humans have a tolerance level beyond which they cannot function.  It's as if they've come the end of the rope and all they can do is hang on.  It's not a comfortable place to be; at the end of one's rope.  The choices there are few.  So we just hang on.  We hope to recover some strength and either pull ourselves up, or receive a helping hand, or take a chance the fall isn't fatal.  I wonder if our nation doesn't feel that way; at the end of our rope.  Hurricanes and flooding and mass shootings and North Korea (still) and civil unrest in Spain and 1500% inflation in Venezuela and yet more hurricanes...I could go on.  We all have our list of events that take hold of us and preoccupy our living.   The list of events that traumatize entire communities and cause us to wonder about the sanity of life seem never to abate.  It's in times like these the Church must show forth a witness that both understands the world and offers hope for its reconciliation.  We must remember the Gospel is not just a story in four parts lived and written about twenty centuries ago.  The Gospel is a promise; a divine promise.  It is THE promise "sine qua non" (that which is absolutely necessary, or beyond which nothing is greater).  However confused one can be about our world, the Church can be a beacon of life and strength and hope.  The Church never reaches the end of its rope.  When we give blood or donate blankets or fund relief efforts or say our prayers we are in league with the God who is ever faithful and loving.  We can be in no better company.

How many times can the human family absorb the shock of deadly violence?  How many times can a community have its heart broken?  How many times can a person survive malevolent atrocities?  Is there a limit?  Is there a boundary beyond which there is no way back?  Our human condition is too often saturated with sights of death and destruction.  We can find such depictions almost every day on any electronic platform; television, Facebook, Twitter, especially our telephones.  Being so regularly inundated with the sordid side of living so often and so graphically must surely take its toll.  Where can we go for relief?  Where can we turn to be safe?  Where is the oasis in which we can swim to wash away the grit which tatters our living?  Nearly three score dead and over five hundred wounded in Las Vegas not only grabs our attention, they maul us.  Even though we are not actual casualties, every community in our nation will bear a share of the burden of that murderous nightmare.  We will not be able to escape the reports and the pictures.  We will not be allowed to put it behind us.  That is, not until the next monstrous event.  And that is the issue.  We seem to be pushed along a path of one tragedy then the next and the next and the next, ad nauseam.  My word to you is this: Remember your baptism; remember to whom you belong; remember to be faithful.  Help where you can and pray wherever you are.

Only twenty-four human beings have ever ventured beyond Earth's atmosphere.  Of them, only twelve walked on our moon.  The first, Neil Armstrong, is dead.  So too, the last, Eugene Cernan.  Four others of their moon-walking colleagues are also dead.  That leaves only six human beings alive who walked on our moon.  That's a very exclusive club.  I remember that day in July, 1969 when The Eagle landed on the moon.  I was a caddy at the Kokomo Country Club that day and had a transistor radio at my ear.  Everyone else on the golf course was listening to the news and it was very quiet in those moments before the landing.  Then, all of a sudden, a cheer arose from every green, tee, and fairway.  You could hear it roll across the course.  Man was on the moon!  Later, that night, Armstrong took that "one small step."  Never has the world been so united.  Never has the human family held its collective breath for one human being.  Alas, I fear, we will never do it again.  Not because we won't go back to the moon, but because I cannot imagine a single human endeavor that will unite us again as one family in celebration of one feat of daring.  There is nothing that brings the human family together as did that "one small step" in July, 1969.  Not the Olympics, not Earth Day, not anything day.  I cannot even imagine what event might unite us again.  Soon enough the remaining six moon walkers will be no more.  And we will note and remember that last man's passing.  But will we ever dream again something bold enough and daring enough and magnificent enough to cause our human family to hold its breath again?