Faces of Faith: Shiprah and Puah

Dear Friends,
Join us for worship this Sunday June 14th at 10:00am to hear our second sermon in the Faces of Faith Summer Sermon Series. I’m preaching from Exodus 1:8-20, the wonderful story of the Hebrew midwives, Shiprah and Puah, who blatantly disobey the Pharaoh’s genocidal plan to kill all newborn males. As always, there will be beautiful music and great joy in seeing one another’s faces. In the midst of so much bad news in the world, we gather each week to be reminded of God’s good news and what that means for us, trying to live faithfully in a broken world.

Last week, the church was open for six days of protest hospitality, providing water, clean bathrooms, and a resting place for approximately 2100 people. Half of our volunteers were non-church members who heard about us from Twitter and Dcist. NYAPC also received a $10,000 donation from a local resident who asked, “how much will it cost to keep your building open for protestors?” Thank you to everyone who showed up to help or who supported the efforts with their prayers. Take note that the city has asked all protestors to get tested for COVID-19. Here are all the testing sites in D.C.

NYAPC will be OPEN for Protest Hospitality on Saturday June 13 from 5:00-9:00pm. Please check our social media channels for up to date details.
Some exciting news! The Session has called a Congregational Meeting for Sunday June 28th to elect the Pastoral Nominating Committee (PNC). The meeting will immediately follow the 10:00 am Zoom Worship Service. The Nominating Committee has worked diligently this spring to nominate a balanced slate of members who will do the work of seeking NYAPC’s next lead pastor. The nine-person slate will be announced next Friday June 19th. There will be “voter training” and a practice vote on Sunday June 21st following the worship service.

Finally, a powerful poem by Claudia Rankine to ponder this week:

On a scrap of paper in the archive is written
I have forgotten my umbrella. Turns out
in a pandemic everyone, not just the philosopher,
is without. We scramble in the drought of
information held back by inside traders. Drop by
drop. Face covering? No, yes. Social distancing? Six
feet under for underlying conditions. Black.
Just us and the blues kneeling on a neck
with the full weight of a man in blue.
Eight minutes and forty-six seconds.
In extremis, I can’t breathe gives way
to asphyxiation, to giving up this world,
and then mama, called to, a call
to protest, fire, glass, say their names, say
their names, white silence equals violence,
the violence of again, a militarized police
force teargassing, bullets ricochet, and civil
unrest taking it, burning it down. Whatever
contracts keep us social compel us now
to disorder the disorder. Peace. We’re out
to repair the future. There’s an umbrella
by the door, not for yesterday but for the weather
that’s here. I say weather but I mean
a form of governing that deals our death
and names it living. I say weather but I mean
a November that won’t be held off. This time
nothing, no one forgotten. We are here for the
storm that’s storming because what’s taken matters.
Weather by Claudia Rankine

Peace and Courage, Heather

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