This time of year, many congregations share Epiphany words printed or written on star-shaped pieces of paper. Like the Bethlehem Star guided the Magi, the word an individual happens to select may shed light on the journey in the upcoming year.
I grew up in the Moravian Church with the tradition of giving watchwords for the new year. A watchword is a verse of Scripture that each worshipper picks from a basket — just like they would an Epiphany Star. The early Moravians believed the selections were not random but a divine gift.
I shared the practice of watchwords with the previous church I served on the Sunday closest to the new year. That Saturday evening, I hurriedly snipped verses out of a Moravian Daily Text — the book that contains a verse from both the Old and New Testaments for each day of the year. I glued Scriptures onto index cards and passed the basket around in worship the next morning.
One young man drew a blank card! I was so embarrassed! But he was gracious and wise: “Maybe God’s telling me to read the Bible until I find the verse that speaks to me.”
This year, I’ve purchased watchword cards from the Moravian Church. I downloaded a PDF, then printed and cut out the verses. There will be no blank cards!
But I plan to tell the story of that young man’s experience. He chose to make meaning from my mistake. Though his card was blank, he saw an opportunity.
I’m careful with the word “opportunity” when talking about the past year. Whether from COVID-19, the economic recession or racially-motivated violence, terrible tragedies have occurred. As William Sloane Coffin said about the death of his son, “God’s heart was the first of all our hearts to break.”
All our hearts must break for those who suffer and grieve.
It is also true that the trials and tribulations of 2020 have prompted creative responses, resourceful adaptions and reprioritized the mindsets of both individuals and congregations. God’s Spirit moves our hearts and minds.
This year, our watchwords will be part of a drive-in service. Members and friends are invited to register for one of two time slots on the Sunday after the new year. Upon arrival, they will remain in their parked cars as I lead the Prayer of Great Thanksgiving over an FM transmitter. We will break our own bread and partake of the beverage that we have brought from our individual homes.
On the drive out of the parking lot, a masked and gloved volunteer will pass a watchword to each person through their slightly cracked car window.
My watchword from the past year was Psalm 27:14 — Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!
When I first laid eyes on this verse, I thought: “Well, that’s nice. Maybe a little repetitive.”
As I have waited and waited to gather as a congregation in our sanctuary, I have returned to this verse again and again. I’ve thought about how the heart for ancient Semitic people was the seat of reason and rationality. In planning worship, whether online or through methods of social distancing, I’ve tried to think courageously — how we might share meaningful worship, how we might make meaning safely together.
The watchword cards are ready and waiting on my desk. I pick up a handful and read, returning them to the basket one by one. Certain verses speak readily and immediately to my heart and mind — a sudden epiphany! Yet, it is the Scriptures that I have returned to and reflected upon that have meant the most over time. Maybe that’s the gift.
