Minister's Message: The Season of Magic and Miracles

Welcome to the Season of Magic and Miracles

Friends, we are now officially in the winter holiday season. Advent begins this Sunday, Hanukkah begins in two weeks, and we are entering the longest nights of the year as we approach yule and the winter solstice later this month. These are days of storytelling and star gazing—days for lighting candles and preparing our hearts to receive the sacred wisdom of this season. These are days for embracing mystery, but that’s sometimes easier said than done. 

Recently, I decided to get in the holiday spirit by watching “A Christmas Carol.” I’ve heard the story countless times, but somehow the particular economic circumstances of the Cratchit family had never occurred to me. Clearly the family struggled financially, but Bob Cratchit must have some education to be able to manage Scrooge’s correspondences. What exactly did it mean to be a “clerk” in Victorian London anyway? Was it more like a secretary or an accountant? Was it that Scrooge paid significantly less than other businessmen who hired clerks? Or was 15 shillings a decent salary but with 4 kids, one of whom had significant complex health challenges, it wasn’t enough for the Cratchit’s particular circumstances. 

So now rather than watching the movie, I was furiously googling articles about the economy of Victorian London. Ultimately, a Christmas Carol is an allegory and a morality tale. It’s a ghost story for goodness sakes, with spirits who facilitate time travel! As much as Dickens was concerned with the plight of London’s poor, the exact and accurate mechanics of the Victorian economy is not what makes the story so enduring. “I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year,” reads the famous line from the original text. Although I got distracted during this watch, I’ve read the story enough times to know that the lessons it holds are not about the history of clerks in London. 

It’s hard to remember a time when I didn’t have access to all of human knowledge in my pocket. When I would have a fleeting question or wondering and would just…wonder about it, then let it go. I think our recent ability to know everything immediately has somehow rewired our brains. We don’t have to experience not knowing little things anymore, so it makes those times when we don’t know big things especially anxiety producing. Who will win the midterm elections? How will we preserve democracy? How will we manage the climate crisis? Why are we here and what does it all mean? We lost the equivalent of practice tests or training runs for the very human experience of not knowing something.

The era we live in is called the information age for a reason. We worship at the altar of information, provided at lightning speeds. We stream events as they’re happening. We ingest this information like a sacrament. In this era, not knowing is increasingly unfamiliar and thus, increasingly uncomfortable. So, we try to get as much information as possible, even if it isn’t always helpful or true. We rush to answers, to explanations and certainties. But in the process, we lose our capacity to wonder and imagine. We forget that revelation isn’t closed and that we haven’t found all of the answers we need. 

I’ve heard some people express dismay at the idea of celebrating the winter holidays too joyfully during a time of economic and political uncertainty. We face serious problems, they say, and now is not the time for flying reindeers, twinkling lights, and fantastical stories. But I think we need to lean into our holiday tradition now more than ever.  Not as a form of escapism but as a way of keeping our hearts open to new possibilities. 

So friends, this December, give yourself over to the mysteries and miracles of this season. Just live in them. Don’t try to explain them. Don’t spend too much time googling their historical origin. 

Tell ghost stories that encourage us to be more giving and more joyful. Do not worry too much about if this ghost story is compatible with your theological beliefs about the afterlife. Believe the oil burned for eight days and in doing so, remember there is always time enough to preserve what is sacred. Believe that God incarnate came into the world by way of a young, unwed Palestinian girl and for the purpose of toppling empires. 

When we let ourselves believe these stories, even if just for a season or a night, our hearts and minds are opened to the idea that another world is possible—to the idea that there are ways forward we don’t know about, that something new can be born at any moment, and that our capacity for love and hope and justice isn’t at its limit. And In that opening of our hearts and minds, we make space for something new to be born in us. 

So during this season of magic and miracles, long-nights and twinkling light, let’s just let the mystery be. 

Happy Holidays, 

Rev. Danielle 

© Rev. Danielle Garrett, 2025

Minister's Message: A Poem for Thanksgiving

Several of you asked about the poem that Marlene so adeptly read during worship last Sunday. The poem was “To the Fig Tree on 9th and Christian” by Ross Gay. You can listen to Gay read the poem himself here.

I’m holding this poem in my heart as we move into Thanksgiving week. This year, like many in recent memory, it can be difficult to summon an uncomplicated gratitude. So many in our communities are struggling and fearful. We are tending our own hurts and losses and lamenting the many injustices we witness in our country right now. For me, Gay’s poem is not a forced or saccharine kind of thanksgiving that ignores the suffering of the world. Rather, it represents an authentic and spontaneous experience of delight, generosity and community amidst the ever present realities of pain and division. Gay is someone whose poems often remind us that joy and gratitude are not fleeting feelings, but rather practices and disciplines. They provide us a way of orienting ourselves in the world so that we stay grounded in something deep and lasting throughout changing seasons of grief and happiness—so that we too can delight in unexpected grace when we find ourselves under the canopy of a fig tree.

May these words bring a small measure of joy to your week. Please know that your presence in this beloved community is one of the things I am most grateful for during this season of thanksgiving.

In faith,
Rev. Danielle

Minister's Message: Casting Your Lot with First Church

“I thank God that my own lot is bound up with that of the human race.”
-Rev. William Ellery Channing 

We are the first church governed by congregational polity in the United States. That may sound like jargon or a piece of obscure church-nerd history, but it really is remarkable! It means simply that, starting in 1629, this congregation chose to be responsible for governing itself. Our predecessors decided to answer to one another and to their highest spiritual values, rather than to a higher ecclesial or denominational body. Yes, we receive guidance and resources from the Unitarian Universalist Association. And as your current minister, I provide spiritual leadership and insight from my professional training. But at the end of the day, it is the members of this church who inherit its past, make decisions that govern its present and chart its course for the future. That was radical for its time and it’s still radical today. Our national politics are drifting further toward authoritarianism, showing less respect for democratic governance and the will of the people. And our social culture is highly individualistic, valuing personal choice and independence over collective care. With such strong tugs toward these two poles, your coming together voluntarily to be part of a covenantal community that makes democratic decisions for the good of the whole, is downright revolutionary.

There is no membership requirement to participate in most activities at First Church. We are an open and welcoming community and we invite folks to attend on Sunday, participate in our lifespan religious education programming, volunteer and attend events without becoming official members of the church. Particularly early on in your time here, we encourage it! No religious community will be a perfect fit, but we want you to have a chance to get to know us, learn more about our faith and history, and feel out if this might be the right spiritual home for you. 

So there is no rush to membership, but there is much to gain from making that commitment when it feels right. Choosing to become a member of this church is a spiritually meaningful decision. It means you get to vote on the matters that shape the future of our community and perhaps take on a leadership role yourself. But beyond matters of governance, it is about freely choosing your spiritual path and the travelling companions you want to accompany you on that journey. It’s making a commitment—to yourself and to one another—to work together in service of a shared vision, and it’s about knowing you have a community around you to support you in that commitment. It’s the joy and responsibility that comes with knowing you are now a steward of this community that has existed for nearly 400 years. 

If you are already a member, then let this be a reminder that your membership here is meaningful! It is a source of great joy for me and for your fellow congregants! Perhaps you want to take some time during this season of welcoming new members to think about what your membership means to you and how you can continue living into your own commitments here at First Church. If you aren’t a member, but have been thinking about becoming one, this is a great time. We will be offering a new member information session after church on November 16th and welcoming in new members on December 7th. 

Our bylaws state simply that, “Any person desiring to become a member may sign an application stating that he or she sympathizes with the purpose of the First Church, wishes to affiliate with it, and intends to aid in its support.” Once you’re a member, any person who has made a donation of record in the past year may vote on church matters. (Note: This is where the Stewardship team would like me to remind you that this whole “congregational polity” thing means we are also self-funded. This is part of how we maintain our freedom and autonomy as a democratically-governed congregation. Finances are never a barrier to participation here, but it is member investment in our mission that keeps the lights on and our staff employed!)

As the minister of First Church, you might assume I’m biased in thinking this is a wonderful community to join. And that’s true! But remember, it was not that long ago that I myself was deciding which congregation in our denomination to “cast my lot,” with. From my very first interview with First Church in Salem, I was so impressed by your welcoming spirit, creativity, good humour, rich history and commitment to congregational health. My admiration for these gifts has only grown in the three months I’ve been here. I’ll be so delighted in December to welcome more of you into this vibrant and caring community. 

If you have questions about membership or what it means to make a more formal commitment to this church, feel free to reach out to me or Membership Committee members Holly Chase and Eric Kenney. We look forward to chatting with you! 

© Rev. Danielle Garrett, 2025

Minister's Message: Caring for Our Community Amidst Cruelty and Crisis

“If a brother or sister is naked and lacks daily food and one of you says to them, “Go in peace; keep warm and eat your fill,” and yet you do not supply their bodily needs, what is the good of that?” - James 2: 15-16

Friends, a cornerstone of my own faith is that everyone—literally everyone—is deserving of food, shelter, healthcare and community. I do not believe there are any circumstances under which it is just or moral to deny these basic human needs. And I believe that when we are able, it is our calling, as people of faith and members of the interdependent web of life, to help provide these necessities. Sure, I love book clubs that help educate us about social issues and I think it’s important that we work towards broader changes to eradicate system injustice. But I think there is something deeply holy about providing for one another’s immediate, tangible, bodily needs. I believe Jesus meant for us to take his assertion in Matthew chapter 5,  “For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat” literally.

Starting on November 1, SNAP benefits will be abruptly cut off, leaving many in our community without access to affordable food to feed their families. Over 83,000 households in Essex County rely on SNAP. This is not an inevitably, but rather a policy choice and an exceptionally cruel one. As Unitarian Universalists, who believe in the inherent dignity of each person, we are called to respond in this moment. So many of you are already giving, organizing, and sharing resources with your friends and family. Many of you have also asked how our congregation can care for our community during this time of need. I have been in touch with area organizations, including staff at the Salem Pantry, to let them know our church stands at the ready to serve our community in the coming days and weeks. Here are some of the most immediate ways we can help:

• Contribute money at church: Cash donations are the most effective ways to support food pantries. With cash donations, food pantries can save time and money by buying in bulk and focusing on the items people need the most. To support these efforts, over the next two months we will be sharing 50% of our Sunday morning plate collection with area organizations. For the month of November, we will give half of our plate collection to the Salem Pantry. In December, we will contribute to LifeBridge. 

• Donate non-perishable food items: While money is most effective, food donations are always welcome. This is a great option for children and youth, as the exercise of shopping for, pricing, and donating physical items helps kids learn about food insecurity and feel more tangibly connected to their giving. Our Religious Education staff and volunteers are organizing a food drive for the month of November. You are invited to donate non-perishable food items at church on Sunday mornings or at our Nov. 16th Potluck. 

• Volunteer: As food pantries anticipate an increase in donations to process and guests to serve, they also anticipate needing more volunteers. The Salem Pantry is eager to welcome volunteers from First Church and plans to open up new volunteer spots at their market and warehouse in the coming days. You can sign up to volunteer here. 

• Education and Advocacy: The most immediate action from food security advocates is a call for the USDA to release contingency funds that could help keep SNAP benefits going as the government shutdown continues. The Massachusetts based Project Bread has a letter you can fill out here. And the national Food Research and Action Council (FRAC) has a social media kit on their homepage if you’d like to use your channels to share information with family, friends and followers. 

• Spiritual Grounding: While the crisis is immediate, the work to build a more equitable economic system where no one goes hungry is long-term work. We are more likely to stay committed for the long-haul if we have practices that renew us and spiritual grounding that reminds us why we are working for a more just and loving world. Maybe you’d like to spend some quiet time each morning meditating on our Unitarian Universalist values and discerning how you are called to live into them. Maybe you make time to engage with sacred scripture through a justice lense. Or perhaps you join us in reading and discussing our UU Common Read, Social Change Now: A Guide for Reflection and Connection by Deepa Iyer (see Theo’s message for more details!). Whatever you choose, don’t neglect the spiritual and theological dimensions of this important work.

I welcome your additional ideas for how First Church can show up to meet this moment and care for our community. And if you find yourself struggling financially, emotionally, or spiritually during these difficult days, please do not hesitate to reach out and set up an appointment with me.

Thank you for your care and courage.

In faith,

Rev. Danielle

Minister's Message: Organized Belonging

Two weeks ago, I preached about the ways authoritarian regimes derive power from our loneliness, isolation, and fear of one another (if you missed it, you can read a transcript here). Because of that, showing up here to gather in community is a counter-cultural act of resistance. I joked that perhaps we should affix the famous words from folk singer Woody Guthrie’s guitar, “This machine kills fascists,” to the coffee carafes at fellowship hour. On a more serious note, I cited the work of political philosopher, Hannah Arendt, who in the wake of the Holocaust in Nazi Germany, devoted her life to studying the nature of evil and power. Arendt concluded that totalitarianism was “organized loneliness.” I said if that was the case, it was time for us to get serious about organized belonging. And I meant it. So I have two requests this week:

1. Lean into the organized part:
It takes work to sustain this congregation as a site of belonging, connection, spiritual nourishment, and holy resistance. Yes, that means dedicating time and energy to our social justice efforts as a church, but it also goes beyond that. A church community that rejects a culture of isolation and division requires many skills and gifts. We need people who will volunteer for the pastoral care team, teach our children, host game nights, help us keep track of finances, and help us learn how to navigate conflict so we can hold differences without fracture (this work is often referred to as “right relations” in UU jargon). Each of you has a role to play in this work, whether you can commit to weekly meetings or to showing up once a year for a volunteer event. This year we will be embarking on some important endeavors. We will begin articulating our mission and vision and building out a right relations team. I’ll be sharing more details about these efforts in the coming weeks. There is no better time to get involved. You don’t even have to know how you want to contribute yet. If you’re feeling called to get more engaged at church, in small or large (or different) ways, reach out (dgarrett@firstchurchinsalem.org) and let’s talk.


2. Enjoy the belonging part:
There is a lot of good work to do, but church isn’t all work. This is a place to rest, play, pray, learn, cry, question, contemplate, find joy and cultivate friendship. Don’t ever feel guilty about doing those things. You all have worked so hard over these past three years to move this congregation to a place of greater health and financial sustainability. It was difficult and slow work, but you committed to it. You kept showing up even when church wasn’t always a fun place to be. The work isn’t done but you have so much to be proud of. So take a deep breath. You deserve to enjoy this place and each other. And there is so very much to enjoy. Behind your self-deprecating statements about being reserved New Englanders, you are funny, warm, welcoming, creative, talented, and smart in a million different ways. I see the ways you greet newcomers, take joy in our children and youth, engage in our wider community, and cultivate a wicked sense of humor. I am constantly delighted to spend time with you! Truly! And I want you to be delighted to spend time with one another. If what you need to do this church year is just remember how to love church and enjoy one another’s company, that’s more than enough. 


It is such a joy to be your minister. We live in difficult times, but I have so much hope that we have what we need, here in this beloved community, to navigate them together.

In faith,

Rev. Danielle

© Rev. Danielle Garrett, 2025

Minister's Message: Our Unexpected Theological Teachers

This week, I’ve been thinking a lot about our unexpected spiritual teachers—the people, places and texts outside of sacred scripture and church teachings where we find deep theological wisdom. One reason this has been on my mind is the wonderful “Thirsty Thursday Theology” discussion many of us shared last night, where we explored the ways ghost stories and horror movies help us understand our relationships with one another and our ancestors, wrestle with grief, process death, and contemplate good and evil and the vast grey areas in between.

The other reason it’s been on my mind is a recent conversation between journalist Nicole Wallace and actor, activist, and devoted Catholic Martin Sheen. The whole podcast is worth a listen. He even mentions Unitarian minister James Reeb! But I was especially moved by this statement, “If we’re lucky enough to surrender and accept the responsibility that we start as a nothing basically, except our humanity, and then we realize, oh, my God, being human is all we need. We’re broken. It’s beautiful brokenness, because if you weren’t broken, nothing could get in to change you. Whether you believe in one, the other God, it doesn’t matter. The spirit cannot get in you unless there’s an entrance point.”

Sheen was an early hero of mine. I was 13 when The West Wing premiered and I was convinced that my calling in life was to become the White House Press Secretary. I already had a bleeding heart and the idealistic depiction of a group of people working for a common purpose and a President who led from a place of deep goodness struck a chord. I did eventually move to DC and spent a fulfilling decade working in public policy, but that was not my calling as it turns out. So, I left my West Wing watching days aside as I turned towards ministry and theology. Listening to this podcast, I realized that Martin Sheen was one of my earliest theological teachers. His commitment to non-violent resistance and his deep faith, both of which he speaks about often and publicly, influenced me before church-going was a part of my own life. As surprising as it sounded, it was Martin Sheen who introduced me to faithful activists and pacifists like Dorothy Day and Dan Berrigan and helped me realize that for many people, there was a deep connection between their religious faith and their commitment to justice. It was moving to listen to the podcast and realize that my teen years hero had impacted my adult faith formation and vocation in unexpectedly deep ways. 

Both of these experiences gave me quite a bit of hope and served as an important reminder about staying attuned to the wisdom all around us. We live in times that call for robust moral imagination. I don’t know the way out of the fear, isolation, and injustice we’re experiencing as a society. I don’t know how to solve the climate crisis, end systemic racism, or bring peace to the Middle East. I’m not sure if anyone does. And our beautiful little community here faces its own set of exciting but complex challenges as we discern how this church can grow and thrive in an increasingly changing religious landscape. We need all the wisdom and creativity we can get, so I want to stay as open as I can to all of the possible sources from which that wisdom and creativity might spring, whether it’s a 19th century gothic novel, a classic horror film, a fictional president, or a deeply faithful actor. This is no time to close ourselves off from sources of moral courage and spiritual insight just because those sources might not look like we expect. One way we can support each other in our collective work for justice and our individual search for meaning is by sharing that deep wisdom when we come across it, and inviting others into our own sites and practices of spiritual renewal.

So this week I have a request. I’d love for you to tell me about your “Martin Sheen.” Who are the unexpected theological teachers and surprising sources of spiritual wisdom in your own life? Where do you reach for inspiration when the “theology” shelf at the book store isn’t giving you what you need? And I mean this literally. This isn’t a question just to ponder on your heart this week. Send me your answers! E-mail me a few sentences about your favorite sources of sacred wisdom. I’ll compile them to share in a future column, so we can share in the wealth. It will help us get to know one another more deeply and it will provide new sources of inspiration when our wells are running dry. I look forward to hearing your own stories.

In faith,

Rev. Danielle 

© Rev. Danielle Garrett, 2025

Minister's Message: Rooted Firmly in Place

One of my favorite religion writers, Liz Bucar has a new Newsletter. If you’re interested in the intersections of religion, politics, and society, it’s well worth subscribing. One of her recent articles included a subheader that totally bowled me over: “You can’t meditate your way out of fascism.” Now I’m a huge proponent of regular spiritual practices. I preach often about filling our own cups and ensuring the well doesn’t run dry. I even talk about the importance of these practices to our social justice work. But I’m also, decidedly, not a fan of fascism, so I read on with attention. Bucar offered some observations that are crucial for spiritual leaders and people of faith to take note of at this moment in history.

She was critiquing journalist Ezra Klein’s discussion of his own meditation practice in an interview with author Ta-Nehisi Coates. Coates says that as a Black American, he’s always understood that “preaching love can get you shot,” citing MLK as an example. Klein responds to this painful truth of systemic suffering with a meditation from his individual practice that brings him comfort. Bucar says of Klein, “When confronted with a moment that demands moral and political clairty…he retreats into his practice. Not to deepen his commitment to collective struggle, but to find personal equilibrium. The meditation becomes a way to process overwhelming information internally rather than a practice that connects him to social obligation and action.” For Bucar, this represents one example of a larger problem known as “spiritual bypassing,” or using spiritual practices as a way to “avoid dealing with what’s actually happening” rather than to “transform ourselves or engage with reality.” 

Bucar’s piece is not a criticism of meditation or spiritual practices in general, but a criticism of the American propensity to remove these practices from their origins, contexts, and associated religious ethics, and package them into something easily consumed. To sell them as a tool to soothe and distract, no different from lavender bath salts or fancy chamomile teas. Bucar contrasts this with the “three-legged stool” of Theravada Buddhism that situates meditation and mindfulness practices alongside social engagement and ethics. The three can’t be separated. Bucar writes, “practices extracted from their religious contexts become tools for individual comfort rather than collective transformation.”

Dear ones, we are living in truly disturbing times. Fascism is at our door step. It is hard to overstate how horrifying it is to watch the President declare American cities “war zones,” as a way to justify mobilizing the U.S. military against its own citizens. This is only the latest in a long string of threats to freedom, democracy, human rights and human dignity. We are in a moment that demands moral clarity and spiritual courage. I keep looking at the picture of the Presbyterian minister in Chicago who was pepper-sprayed directly in the face for living into the call of his faith. I see videos of clergy and congregants there chanting at ICE agents, “‘Love your neighbor, love your God, save your soul and quit your job.” I know we too are called to live out our own faith in visible, tangible ways. There is no time for spiritual bypassing. 

This doesn’t mean we can’t make time for comfort, stillness, replenishment and joy. We have to make time for those things if we’re going to survive and flourish. But those things need to happen in a broader context that sees them as part of the work of love and justice rather than ways to avoid doing that work or to avoid confronting the realities that necessitate that work.

So our job now is to get really clear about all of the legs that hold up our own stool, as individuals and as a church community, and understand how they work together to support a full-hearted faith. We need to get acquainted with the unshakable truths that live in the depths of our soul—the truths that we feel in our bones and will keep us rooted firmly in place even when we’re confronted with the destructive weapons of empire. It could be a belief in a God of liberation, Jesus’s calling to “take up your cross and follow me,” the inherent worth of each human life, the radical interdependence of all creation, or the fundamental human calling to “tikkun olam” or healing the world. And yes, we need to know what practices sustain us, but we also must ask,”sustain us to do what?” Are those practices helping us to look squarely at the truth? Are they helping us confront our neighbors' pain and suffering or are they numbing us to those realities? We need a faith deep and resilient enough to help us meet this moment and that’s going to require us asking some hard questions of ourselves. This work is urgent, life-giving and life-saving, and impossible to do alone. Thank God then, that we have each other.

In these coming days, may we come together with courage and hope to practice a faith worthy of the times in which we live and the values we claim to profess. I’ll be here alongside you in the work. 

In love,

Danielle 

© Rev. Danielle Garrett, 2025

Minister's Message: Finding Nourishment in Community

This week, I came across an article on social media from Duke Divinity’s Leadership Education publication. It’s titled “Coffee hour and the beauty of lingering with one another,” by Presbyterian minister Mihee Kim-Kort and it’s worth the read. It immediately made me think of you all, because fellowship hour here is indeed something special. When I first moved to town, before I even began my official first day of work, a neighbor (who is not a member here) remarked, “You’re at First Church?! You know they use REAL tea cups at coffee hour?” 

After reading the article, I realized this is the first congregation I’ve been in where the receiving line at the end of service happens not in the lobby by the exit, but by the doors that lead into the fellowship hall. Here we don’t “exit through the giftshop,” we “exit through the coffee hour.” 

While I recognize that can be an overwhelming prospect for introverts, there is something deeply poetic about it. At the close of the service, I speak a benediction—words to carry on your heart as I send you forth. But you do not hear them and then go your separate ways. You very deliberately add another step. You literally funnel and filter what we share together in worship through a space of community before taking it out into the world. Between time set aside for prayer, learning and contemplation and then the work of going about our lives, you make space for fellowship, nourishment, lingering, rest, and joy. 

The time spent together matters, even when no church business is happening (although I have been impressed at the impromptu uses of announcements and democratic process during fellowship to keep the work of the church churning along). It’s a reminder that between the work of grounding in our sacred values and the work of living those values out in the world, lies the work of community. We need people to help us discern what work is ours to do, support us, hold us accountable, and work alongside us, adding their gifts to our own. We need people to mourn and celebrate with. Even when it’s messy and even when it slows things down, in between the sanctuary and the streets, we need to spend time in community.

And those blue and white cups matter! I especially delight when I see our youth drinking from them. In a culture of disposability, waste, and hurrying, they offer an alternative set of values that counter the “on-the-go” ethic we’re so steeped in. They say, “stay a while.” They say “everyone deserves a bit of beauty and delight in their day.” They say, “this place is committed to something deeper, slower, more-lasting, and more sustainable than garishly colored trendy drinks in plastic to-go cups.” 

When we take time to slow down, to nourish and delight in one another’s company, we come into the presence of the holy. 

This Sunday is World Communion Sunday. We will bring this practice of breaking bread together into the sanctuary, so that we can see clearly the ways this work is always and inherently sacramental—a visible sign of the invisible presence of the divine. And this week in particular, I hunger and thirst for that truth. As news stories of violence, fear, division, and rising authoritarianism continue to flash across the screen, I need to be reminded that we can still meet one another at the table—that we can still honor one another’s humanity through small acts of care, beauty, and grace. I need to know that the presence of God is close at hand and we can still find them in the simple act of breaking bread.

If you need those same reminders, I hope you will join us for worship and communion this Sunday morning. All are welcome at this table.

And of course, there will still be fellowship hour.

In faith,

Rev. Danielle

© Rev. Danielle Garrett, 2025

Minister's Message: Centering the Work of the Spirit

This week, I arrived at the office a few minutes later than I had hoped and planned. See, I’m trying to break myself of the habit of “doom-scrolling” on my phone first thing in the morning. I’ve committed to not looking at my phone until I’ve spent some time moving my body, some time in prayer or devotional reading, and some time in silence. I imagine I'll have to recommit again in a few days or weeks when I inevitably let the practice go. That too is part of the spiritual life. But on this day, I was still committed and I was running a few minutes late to work because I spent “too long” in prayer. 

When I arrived at church, and said those words out loud during my first meeting, I heard how completely absurd they sounded. Religious traditions are full of stories of monks and mystics who spent days, weeks, years communing with the holy! But here I was, a minister, apologizing for an extra five minutes. 

The obsession with urgency and productivity in our modern culture is so pervasive, that it invades our most sacred spaces and even I sometimes forget what exactly it is we’re doing here! I’ve found myself forgetting to begin meetings with a chalice lighting or opening reading, and jumping into long agendas without taking a moment for stillness or deep connection. 

We are, first and foremost, a spiritual community. That is at the heart of everything we do—from our social justice work in the broader world to the governance and finances that guide our internal operations. All of this is in service of building, tending, sustaining and growing a spiritual community. This is a place unique in that purpose and in its invitation to bring our whole selves. It is a place where the well-being of our souls take precedence and we are invited to connect with the still small voice inside and the sacred that is present all around us. If we forget that, we are rudderless. We are no different from a social club or service non-profit. 

I’m excited to do big things together! I’m ready and eager to tackle tasks you are prepared to undertake after three years of really good interim work. Together we can articulate the church’s mission, think about growth (not just in numbers but also in vision, depth, and connections), and attend to the long-term financial health of this institution and the sustainability of its campus and programs. This work requires timelines, strategies, agendas and budget crunching. But it also requires deep discernment and spiritual searching. It requires clarity around our values and time to listen for where the sacred is calling us.

So in addition to my own spiritual practices, I’m also recommitting to keeping our work together spiritually grounded. Even when it might feel silly or unnecessary, I will begin meetings with a reading, a prayer, or silence. I will ask out-loud things like, “what sacred value is calling you to that answer?” or “How is stewardship a spiritual practice for you?” I will go sit in the sanctuary for a few moments when I’m wrestling with an administrative or financial question. I invite you to do the same. Let the “soul work” live at the center of this place and the rest will follow from there.

I am also working on new opportunities for spiritual grounding and exploration as a community. In October, Theo and I will be launching a monthly drop-in "Thirsty Thursday Theology” series. On the third Thursday of each month, we will gather in the Cleveland room for a fun themed “mocktail” and I will lead us in conversation about a different spiritual topic. October will be “A Theology of Ghosts and Monsters!” Then in December, you’ll be able to sign up to receive a daily advent devotional in your inbox that includes a poem or reading and reflection questions. These are just a few ideas that are in the works! I always welcome your input on other ways we can deepen our spiritual lives together. 

In faith,

Danielle

© Rev. Danielle Garrett, 2025

Minister's Message: Memory, Vulnerability, and the Smell of Church Basements

In my second year of Divinity School, my classmates and I were required to complete “field education.” We worked part time in churches, hospitals, and non-profits to get practical experience and then met weekly in small groups with instructors to discuss what we were learning and go over case studies from our context. I was in a group with other students serving in various Nashville parishes of many denominations. We decided rather than meeting in our classroom on campus, we would rotate meeting in the various churches where we were serving. 

Our class meetings always included a tour. We stepped into baptismal fonts and took selfies and flipped through hymnals comparing and contrasting our denominations’ musical traditions. We tried out pulpits of various heights and discussed the pros and cons of stained glass windows. We commented on how all church basements and Sunday school classrooms smell the same; a familiar bouquet with notes of magic markers, old books and graham crackers. Some of the sanctuaries were indeed very beautiful and it was a blessing to spend time in them, but there was a particular tenderness in seeing the offices and classrooms and storage closets, in holding the prayer cards and offering envelopes. It was strangely moving to connect with the materiality of these places where our friends and classmates were learning to minister—where they were growing into their vocations, learning to serve their God and their people, and entering into a lineage of religious leaders who had handled those hymnals and offering envelopes before them. 

We noticed a new level of trust once we started meeting in these spaces. Our engagement with the case studies we brought to the group was deeper when we could envision the physical sites where those conflicts and questions were arising. It was a reminder that our religious lives are both spiritual and material, and the places where the two meet are powerful sites of energy and memory. Sharing those spaces with one another was intimate and vulnerable and beautiful. 

I was reminded of a 2016 blog from On Being by Sarah Smarsh  titled “The Enduring Power of Built Sacred Spaces in a Secular World.” Smarsh speaks eloquently to why physical sacred spaces remain important, even in a culture where church attendance is declining. She writes, “When we become so abstract in our experience that the physical realm becomes secondary, we dangerously dismiss and detach from our earth, our ecosystems, our fellow humans, ourselves. I’ve found a few physical spaces that might meet my needs for shared community, contemplation, reverence, and wonder apart from the traditional religious structure, but I’ve not yet committed to one the way a Catholic commits to Sunday Mass.”

Every Sunday we worship in a building that is beautiful and unique. Some parts are well preserved while other parts are well-loved and visibly worn by the shuffling feet and praying bodies of those who have called this place their spiritual home. It holds physical memories of our past and, within its walls, the spirit moves among us shaping the faith of our future. And on weekends this fall, we are opening it up to tourists and visitors. This Sunday at service we will be hearing from some of the volunteers who have been working so diligently to make these tours a reality. We won’t be hearing about their fundraising goals, as important as those are. Rather, we will hear more about how this experience has shaped their understanding of our particular sacred place. What does it mean to invite strangers into the intimacy of this space and what do we learn about ourselves in the process? It’s going to be a special service and I hope you’ll join us.  

In faith,

Rev. Danielle

© Rev. Danielle Garrett, 2025