Media Food Bank Benefit Concert, This Sunday and January's Poem

February 3 from 3:30 to 6:15 - Media Food Bank Benefit Concert - A fun afternoon family friendly event for a great cause!  See the concert poster here and feel free to send it to friends and family.

This Sunday Feb. 4 - The Dreams They Dreamed - Stewardship Sunday

This Sunday marks the kick-off of our annual Fund Drive and the launch of our new monthly theme of "Persistence." Rev. Peter and Worship Associate Nathan Rivera will reflect on the idea of "Legacy." What does it mean to stand on the shoulders of those who came before us, and what responsibilities do we have to both those who came before us and those who will come after us? Music at both services will be provided by Dr. Richard Veleta.

Rev. Peter's Poem for January's theme, "Intention"

"For Chester"
I am tired of writing poems
that make us feel good about
ourselves. Poems written from
the comfort of a La-Z-Boy in
my living room, where the house 
is a cozy 70 and my bank account 
is set up to pay off my credit card
in full each month without needing
to worry the balance.
I want to write poems from
the spot on West 7th Street
where Ronnie Lundy, 16,
was shot in broad daylight and
his blood still stains the sidewalk,
or from the KNF Market down
on 3rd at eleven on a Friday 
on the fourth night of a 
heat wave in August.
I want my poems – this poem – to
grab you by the throat and drag you
down to the William Penn project,
where grandmothers just like you
take their lives into their hands
walking to the corner store, and,
every day, hug their grandchildren 
when they leave for school like it 
might be the last time,
because it really could be.
I want my poems – this poem – to
be the ghost of Christmas present,
so you can sit, unseen, in the teachers’ 
lounge at Chester High and hear 
the sadness and frustration, 
and also the hope. 
I want my poems – this poem – to 
pry your eyes open to all the good 
people caught in the cross-fire of 
ego, nepotism and outright neglect, 
and who, despite apparent powerless, still persist. Men like Cory and Clyde, and all the Women of Strength, who stand up for the fallen.
But my poems – this poem – are written
from the comfort of a La-Z-Boy in
my living room, where the house
is a cozy 70 and I, like you, can easily
avert my eyes and ignore the terror.
On the first day of this New Year,
I vow to turn toward the carnage 
and desolation, toward the faith of the despairing, to speak the bloody, hopeful truth, to make us both uneasy, unaccepting, perhaps even beyond 
the end of this poem.