Happy New Year, PUMC!
I am praying your Advent and Christmas have been blessed by moments of realizing how very near and present God is to you, to each person who lives and breathes, to all of Creation! We are so loved.
For many of us, our faith is of great importance – it is our very life, our knowing God, our getting to know Jesus through the work of the Holy Spirit. Our church is very important to us – it is the community that helps us grow in our faith, serve others as Jesus taught us and with whom we worship, study, reach to others and share fellowship. Some questions around these important facets of our life together have come to my attention as of late. What difference does being part of a church make in our life, in the lives of others? Where is God in all of it?
To help us better answer those questions this year I’ll be sharing this space with…you! Throughout 2025 you will find here the stories of lay people exploring the many facets of life as a disciple of Jesus. I pray they will both encourage and challenge you, as they do me!
Rev. Abby Lietz
Associate Pastor
And Who Is My Neighbor?
by Larry Rudy
This fall we concluded the all-church study “Short Stories by Jesus.” In response to the lawyer’s provocative question and his attempt to redefine who qualifies as his neighbor, Jesus tells the parable of the Good Samaritan. Jesus makes it clear in this parable our neighbor is anyone around us, no matter their ethnic, religious or socio-economic status.
It was about one year ago the Presbyterian Church near my home became the Sikh Gurdwara Shaheed Akali Baba Phula Singh Ji. I was pleased to see the church property finally occupied, but just who were our new neighbors? A gurdwara, as I looked up, is a place of assembly and worship in Sikhism. I also noticed they left in place the Presbyterian church sign statement, “GOD IS GOOD ALL THE TIME.”
In the months that followed their arrival, I observed frequent daily activity and large numbers of cars filling their parking lot. This past fall my interest in “my neighbor” peaked as, passing by, I saw two workmen very active on a project at the entrance of their Gurdwara.
In late October I harvested a bumper crop of canna lily rhizomes, so I took two grocery sacks full with me to meet my neighbor! Hi neighbor! My name is Larry. Would you like to have some canna lily rhizomes for your garden? I found the two workmen did not speak English well, but we were soon joined by a fellow named Surinda who welcomed me graciously and offered me delicious hot tea with milk. We exchanged pleasantries, and Surinda answered several questions I asked about the Sikh religion. He then gave me a tour of the Gurdwara. Shoes were removed at the entry and a cover wrap placed on my head. Surinda explained this was in reverence for being in a holy place of worship. I noticed the Sikhs had no furniture for sitting, no pews in their large prayer room. Every room was lushly carpeted for worship as well as for eating. Worshipers come and go throughout the day and food is always available. I met two ladies who prepare all the meals. They smiled but spoke no English.
I was invited to attend their “Festival of Lights” celebration two days later, Diwali. I did not know anything about Diwali, but Surinda explained it was like our New Year’s Eve, a celebration of coming out of darkness into light. That sounded very good to me and I accepted his invitation to arrive at 6:30pm. In the meantime I did some research on Diwali and Sikh history to prepare.
I arrived on time, removed my shoes at the entry and struggled to secure the head covering until assisted by someone who was also entering. I did not see Surinda but followed a line to the central room where there was a buffet of food ready. Everyone was dressed in traditional Indian/Pakistani garb with men wearing turban headwear and full beards. I saw no Sikhs greeting visitors like me, but met a Plainfield policeman on duty for security. I followed the officer through the food line, sampling each item prepared, without any idea what it was!
After the meal I entered into what used to be the sanctuary of the old church. Music was played and there was singing in a language foreign to me. I sat with others on the outside wall and observed. Worshippers entered and proceeded to an altar where they knelt in a prostrated position for prayers. After a short time of observance, I quietly left the building.
I had only been in the Gurdwara for about 45 minutes and never saw my host, Surinda. I returned home having met my neighbor, rewarded by the welcome, but without the feeling of acceptance in the sharing of Diwali.
We might consider my singular experience at the Sikh Gurdwara if the role was reversed. What do visitors to Plainfield United Methodist Church experience when they enter? Are we open to accepting those who may be different from us in ethnicity, race, sexual identity, social sophistication or language? Do we venture to meet those we do not know on a Sunday morning, or only speak to those we call close friends? In our daily living, are we willing to risk our discomfort to reach out to someone who is unlike ourselves to become more neighborly? Who might we seek to connect with this year, who might we learn from as we reach beyond ourselves?
I believe the question of “who is my neighbor” leaves much for each of us to think about.
Plainfield UMC Today 