^“Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old. 

I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?”

– Isaiah 43:18-19a

Beloved of God,

It’s called “S.O.B. DAY”—but it’s not what you may think.  At Holden Village, S.O.B. DAY = Sun Over Buckskin Day—the first time in the New Year that the sun, in its circuit across the sky, rides high enough that its light is no longer blocked by the pinnacle of Buckskin Mountain, allowing its rays to shine directly on the Railroad Creek Valley floor and illuminate the heart of the Village.  Occurring later in February, SOB Day is an occasion for celebration as Villagers dig shorts and tank tops out of their closets, pull out the barbecue, and bask simultaneously in the long-awaited sunshine as well as in the astronomical certainty that summer warmth will, in fact, return.

Within the life of our parish, when the calendar flips to February it means that the Annual Meeting is now behind us.  We’ve reviewed the year past, shared a snapshot of the present, and have begun turning our focus toward the NEW THING that awaits in 2022.  The prophet’s words (above) remind us that keeping our attention mired in the past is not a good strategy.  True, we draw lessons from the past—but if we allow ourselves to be anchored there we run the risk of missing that “new thing” springing forth from God’s hand.  Congregations that dwell on the past instead of focusing on the future tend to languish.

One of the items that reached my email inbox this week was an article on assisted migration for trees from the Trees for Seattle program.  The article points out how populations of trees migrate to areas with more favorable conditions after change occurs in their environment, especially climate change.  Human-caused climate change is more extreme than natural changes and is happening more quickly than many trees can adapt.  Communities and scientists are concerned that if tree species can’t keep up with these changes, they may be lost entirely.  One response to this reality has been to assist trees with migrating by planting them in places they would likely move to given enough time.  This process is called assisted migration.  Trees are planted in these new places with the hope that they will flourish and carry on the legacy of their species.  Like any intervention to natural systems, assisted migration comes with risks.  As the peril for tree species increases across the globe, communities, scientists, and land managers are forming networks to compare ideas for how to reduce risks and develop best practices for supporting tree survival in the face of our rapidly changing climate.

Reading this article set me to wondering whether we, as people of faith, could offer “assisted migration service” to folks who find it hard to adapt to the new realities constantly cropping up in our world.  Might we be the kind of forward-looking community that anticipates the challenges that 21^st Century realities bring and that offers up the resources of faith to help one another negotiate those changes and challenges?  It’s worth pondering.