A Reflection from Simone Monique Barnes
Dear People of St James’,
While some of you may know that I grew up in New York City, you may not know that I also spent much of my formative years and adulthood in and around New England where Native American foodways like quahogs, chowdah, oyster stuffing, cranberry bogs, cornbread, and three sisters–corn, bean, and squash, are commonplace. Where throughout the year there are indigenous celebrations of gratitude for different harvests or new moons. These thanksgiving celebrations–November’s is only but one–are punctuated by food, games, dancing, singing, stories, and language. Traditions. I grew up with friends and loved ones for whom Plimoth is not a story; it is an intrinsic part of the strong root system from whence they grow. There are lots of good memories rooted in the sharing of moments with friends, neighbors, and their families.
But there are also the shared experiences of hard histories, cruel realities, grief, mourning, and yes, death. These, too, are roots of Thanksgiving.
This year, like many of you, I wonder, with a global pandemic, unbridled racism and xenophobia, a country weary, and the future uncertain, how do we celebrate during these hard times? Sometimes, I find it is helpful for us to look back as we look ahead. By looking back with discerning minds and hearts, we can notice that our ancestors had fears and hardships, too, and still celebrated moments, growth, and milestones. Celebrating doesn’t mean that you stop being weary. Celebrating doesn’t mean that nothing bad will happen. It doesn’t mean that nothing bad is happening. It’s okay to have heartache, fear, and joy. They aren’t mutually exclusive.
As we move through these seasons of giving (stewardship) and thanks, and enter a new year that begins with Advent, let us remember that these traditions of celebration, joy, and gratitude, be it our family, culture, and communities stories or the Christian story, did not grow roots in soil nourished solely in peace and happiness. Our roots grew amidst rocks, hard places, and drought, layered in between tidings of great joy.
As we sit in our current season of waiting and concern, as people of faith we can look to the stories of Mary and Joseph to find empathy and compassion in the experiences of being away from cousins, and family, and friends during a time when family and community was needed most; we can look to the stories of those who unexpectedly made do with less; the stories of the prophets who oft found themselves in new lands and unprecedented times; the stories of living daily life with great fear and uncertainty. We can look to our recent past when our now beloved church, St. James’, was born from roots of adversity and birthed during Advent in 1941, and came of age during Jim Crow. And we can look to moments in our own personal lives when we experienced joy even in the midst of our sorrows.
Sometimes our celebrations aren’t just about joy, but are also about marking the roots of our existence, serving as markers of our growth and testimonies of our resilience. Let us celebrate that we are loved by a God who loves us with the fullness of our experiences and emotions. Let us continue to celebrate these moments that we harvest for ourselves, as our souls look back in marvel of how we made it through, and in recognition of being alive.
With love, rooted and thankful,
Simone Monique Barnes
Director of Family Ministries
