by erinrobinsonhall@gmail.com | Aug 20, 2023 | Reflections, Uncategorized |
Ordinary Time. The time that counts. From the idea of ordinal, this is the time between and the time until. I have such appreciation for the time marked by ordinary days. What are the symbols for this liturgical season, in this very year? Ordinary time is historically known as the liturgical season to focus on practices that shape us as the people of God. Different than the seasons that focus on the great mystery of God, this time is more grounded and messy. Which elements for Ordinary Time might carry us along? The elements that seem near to me are what I want to share in these ordinary days. Let us consider: HEAT. Heat | Ordinary Time The afternoon heat enveloped us, a suffocating pillow that threatened a heat index of 115. As I sat in my van with the air conditioning doing its best, my school aged children jumped inside. Their little faces were red from waiting on me at the carpool line for just a few minutes. “No recess today, we had to do inside recess!” the littlest one announced. Though a huge disappointment to him, I knew this was the right call in the August heat of Macon, GA. Afternoon temps were simply too extreme to have children running outside. Extreme heat in our region, like most of the South, means we change up the expectations for outside activities. As we drove home, my son pouted. At the stoplight, we saw the construction site with workers toweling off their faces in the heat. Then, as we drove closer to our house, we looked for a home...
by erinrobinsonhall@gmail.com | Apr 3, 2023 | Prayers, Reflections, Uncategorized |
They held palm branches. Little hands, raised high among the gathered people held symbols of peace and protest. We wanted them to walk. We sang along as they enacted the gospel story. Palm Sunday tradition had them marching and laying their branches at the foot of a reasonably-sized cross. The children of our church waving palm branches. We read the scripture about people who marched with palms. “When he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, ‘Who is this?’” A city in turmoil reaches my heart today. One week ago, I was meeting on Zoom with my team, who calls Nashville home. My friend Eileen got a text from her daughter and froze. “It’s a school shooting.” Silence fell. A pause that held the question we parents ask these days: Did this latest shooting reach my child? She breathed and we realized, not this one. A school nearby, down the road. We learned that another team member has family in The Covenant School. They escaped, not physically harmed. Fear, anxiety, and grief washed through us. Within hours, my social media feeds filled with ads for bullet-proof notebooks and classroom walls that transform into bunkers. Bullet-proof barriers for sale, the commodification of our nightmares. The market is ready to respond. Stock prices on guns shoot up, while I stifle an honest Lenten confession: I want the power to protect my family. I need something in my hand so no harm can touch my children. One week later, a walk out is planned. At 10:13 am, the time the school shooting began, thousands of students across Nashville walked out....
by erinrobinsonhall@gmail.com | May 25, 2020 | Reflections, Resources, Uncategorized |
I love a good podcast. I’ve listened to them, hosted and produced them, critiqued them, used them for teaching, and listened with my children. Most of us have our favorites and we follow when new episodes will release. Why does this matter for the practice of ministry? Because we live in a time of digital connectivity. Digital connectivity, a term from digital theorist Douglas Rushkoff, refers to the ways in which internet resources and social media permeate both society and how persons relate to one another. It seems like connectivity would be such a needed thing in a time of social distancing. This may be one reason we love podcasts. But what does “community” mean in a society shaped by this kind of connectivity? When it comes to digital devices, the experience can be like what Rushkoff calls “digiphrenia.” The perceived necessity to keep pace with the onslaught of information available creates a “tension between the faux present of digital bombardment and the true now of a coherently living human.” If we didn’t believe this before #pandemicpastoring, we know it now. We are (faithfully and rightly!) distanced from in-person gatherings. We have Zoom Church, virtual gatherings and podcasts. These are a gift. And. Even as we are grateful for the opportunities that digital resources offer, we can name that technology can be exhausting. We can wonder which best practices will nourish and sustain a flourishing ministry. Digital connectivity is not an accessory to ministry but a thread that weaves throughout the lives of most congregants. Rushkoff suggests that the context of “present shock” in digital connectivity is incompatible with...
by erinrobinsonhall@gmail.com | May 6, 2020 | Prayers, Resources, Uncategorized |
It’s a gift to be able to share space with people who just get it. My friendEileen Campbell-Reed always offers me that space. We can shorthand conversations about things that matter deeply to the practice of ministry, and I know that we hear each other. That’s one of the reasons I am grateful to be part of 3MMM. These episodes offer a space for ministers to name the parts of ministry that are not easy to explore. One of those spaces, for me, is grief. Specifically, grief around motherhood. For a long time, that grief was marked by loneliness. My husband and I experienced many years of fertility treatments before our son was born in 2012. Followed by more seasons of infertility treatments, miscarriage and adoption loss. Mother’s Day has not always been easy. I am not alone in that grief. We know that 1 in 8 couples will experience infertility. Which means someone in your circle of friends. Someone in your family. Someone in your pews. Maybe someone in your pulpit. Chances are, they don’t want to tell you all the details of their grief around infertility treatments, miscarriage or infant loss. So much of this is extremely intimate and, frankly, makes no sense if you have not had to wrangle the emotions and fees and calendars and weight of this kind of loss. Those who know fertility grief know the wails of failed hope, and they walk into worship spaces where hope is spoken, sung and claimed. It’s a striking chord, and often jarring. Which is why we sing each other through it. At our first “Hannah...
by erinrobinsonhall@gmail.com | Feb 12, 2020 | Reflections, Uncategorized |
My mama has always done this. Since we were little bitty things, she has given us treats to celebrate special days. This week is no different. I am a grown woman, with a family of my own. And a box full of Valentine surprises arrived on my doorstep this week. Now, we don’t do simple or understated in my family. Sometimes, I have wished we could. I have envied those straight-laced, buttoned-up families from time to time. But, since subtlety is NOT our spiritual gift, I have come to accept that all gifts from Mimi will be chock full of more extras and fancies and sparkles than any child needs. (Need is not really the point when it comes to celebrating, my mom will tell you) We are just EXTRA. It’s a whole thing. As I looked through the box, I was in awe of what I saw. Not the array of stickers and markers and stuff. I was in awe of the attention she paid to each person in our family. Little things that were selected or hand-made for each person, my husband included. I mentioned ONE time that I saw an ad for a Valentine mailbox, and wondered aloud if Mom could make something like that for the kids. She did. Just like that. For the child who loves art, there were new markers. For the Mama who sometimes needs little ones to have a quiet thing to do, there were mess-free coloring books. For each of us, there was something to make us smile. She has always loved us well in this way. My siblings...
by erinrobinsonhall@gmail.com | Jan 16, 2020 | Reflections, Uncategorized |
I had a whole plan to get through Christmas Eve unscathed. In a pastor’s family, Christmas Eve is often a last hurdle on the 100 yard dash of this liturgical season. We usually arrive at this high holy moment in our congregation after a feat of planning that feels more like an American Ninja Warrior sprint than a sacred practice. Add to that pace the fact that this year our family was different. Doubled in size, actually. We have welcomed new children from foster care, age seven and younger, into our family in recent months. Their curiosity and wonder at all things Churchy should have given me a clue that my plans for a *calm* moment of worship were just . . . laughable. But sometimes we miss the glaring clues. So, into worship we went. My plan was to slip in right after the service began, because our little ones tend to take in every sound and sight that most congregants take for granted and . . . ask about it, touch it, pick it up, jump on it, or point to it. For this particular, no-seat-left-in-the-house kind of service, I wanted to maintain some level of chill. Since I knew the liturgy by heart, we waited until the organ prelude had quieted and my Pastor/Husband Jake began the invocation. He bowed his head, and in we walked. Quiet reverence covered the whole sanctuary. And then. My three year old looked up and saw WHO was giving the prayer. Even though Jake did not look up. This sweet little boy pointed and exclaimed in a shout, “Daddy! That’s...
