November At the Threshold: Reign of Christ and the Beginning of a New Liturgical Year
Dear Friends,
As the crisp November air settles in and the last stubborn leaves cling to the branches, we find ourselves standing at another profound threshold in the church year. November asks us to pause, take stock, and remember who—and what—truly holds our allegiance.
Back on October 2, I had the distinct privilege of visiting Temple Beth Am with my dear friend Shelly for a special Shabbat service. Alongside their weekly worship, they were celebrating Simchat Torah—Hebrew for "Rejoicing in the Torah"—a deeply joyous holiday marking the completion and immediate restarting of the annual Torah reading cycle. Defined by singing, marching, and dancing with the scrolls (Hakafot), the service reads the final lines of Deuteronomy and immediately rolls back to the opening verses of Genesis, symbolizing that God's word is endless and continuous.
I can’t begin to describe the big, untamed emotions of watching a whole community literally dance with the Word. I mean, seriously—when was the last time you danced with your Bible? Seeing such unbridled joy, singing, and deep communal blessing for how scripture is passed down across generations was beyond moving.
Not only was I treated like an honored guest, but I was invited to sit right inside the unrolling of a Torah scroll—one on loan from a synagogue destroyed during World War II, no less—completely encircled in the Word alongside young worshippers preparing for their b'nai mitzvah. All the adults take a turn holding up the scroll, a tangible symbol that we are collectively responsible for its care and its continued life. Then came a breathless, five-minute fly-by of the entire Torah narrative, ending on the final verse of Deuteronomy chanted in Hebrew. And the next day? They start right back at the beginning with Genesis.
To top it all off, the service ended with shots of schnapps and root beer floats. I mean, come on!
My friend Shelly asked me if there was anything quite like this in our Christian tradition. After a not-so-quiet chuckle, I explained that Christ the King Sunday, celebrated on the last Sunday before Advent, is sort of our equivalent—only, let’s be honest, no one really knows much about this festival day, and we certainly don't dance in the aisles or do shots of Mogen David afterward.
Dancing with the Word in a Divided World
So, here is my first invitation to you: on November 22, we celebrate Christ the King Sunday, or the recently renamed Reign of Christ Sunday. Though a relatively recent festival day, it serves a vital purpose: it regrounds us, realigning our hearts away from the world's noise and back to our true King and Savior, Jesus Christ. In a culture driven by power, status, and division, this Sunday calls us to proclaim that Christ alone reigns over our lives, our church, and our world.
Goodness knows we need this grounding. As we emerge from a high-stakes midterm election, with our country still caught in bifurcated, tribalized politics, maybe it’s time to pick up our Bibles and actually dance with them. I triple dog dare you!
Let's take a page from Anne Lamott—finding that fierce, holy, slightly irreverent grace that lets us laugh at our human ridiculousness while clinging to what is true and good. Let's celebrate the wild joy of God’s Word with absolute abandon, and then—just like our Jewish siblings—turn the page and start right back at the beginning.
Turning the Page: The Urgent, Present Kingdom of Mark
As we cross into Year B, we turn the page to the Gospel of Mark. If Luke is a contemplative walk through parables, Mark is a sprint—no cozy introductions, just a lean, urgent story where everything happens "immediately."
Written for a community enduring disruption and anxiety, Mark gives us a Jesus who steps straight into our mess. Rather than political pageantry or partisan posturing, God’s power appears in radical, suffering love on the move—tearing down boundaries and healing the broken. In an election season that pushes us to pick sides and build bigger walls, Mark calls us to drop our nets of fear and join in God's urgent work.
A Moment for Spiritual Reflection:
Where is God breaking through your political dread right now, and how can you step in?
Grounded in Sacred Word
Turning to Mark’s Gospel for the coming year, we are grounded by Jesus’ very first words at the start of his ministry:
"The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news." — Mark 1:15 (NRSVUE)
To "repent" in Mark doesn't mean hanging our heads in shame; it means turning around—realigning our vision and shifting our focus away from the anxious powers of this world toward God's unfolding kingdom.
This passage reminds us that our true allegiance does not belong to any political party, cultural platform, or nationalistic identity. Our allegiance belongs to a God whose kingdom is near, whose love dismantles fear, and whose call to follow is active and present today.
Finding Words to Pray
During times of political whiplash and anxiety, I often turn to Anne Lamott’s honest, brilliant little book, Help, Thanks, Wow: The Three Essential Prayers. In it, Lamott strips away polite church language and offers three simple words that lay bare the entire arc of human prayer:
"Help" — The Prayer of Survival: When the news gets too loud and political noise overwhelms us, our first honest prayer is often a ragged cry for rescue. As Lamott writes: "Asking for help means... we are willing to drop our arms, at least for the moment, and accept that we are not in control." To pray "Help" in November is the brave act of putting down our weapons, letting go of frantic striving, and letting God step in.
"Thanks" — The Prayer of Grounding: Once we breathe through the panic, we notice the good right beneath our feet. Gratitude is a holy resistance against despair—giving thanks for friends, autumn light, unrolled Torah scrolls, root beer floats, and a God whose love outlasts every election cycle.
"Wow" — The Prayer of Wonder: Every so often, grace catches us off guard. As Lamott puts it: "When we are stunned to the place beyond words... when all we can say in response is 'Wow,' that's a prayer." "Wow" is the awe we feel realizing that despite all our human messiness, God is still at work in radical love.
When election noise leaves you speechless this month, remember that Help, Thanks, and Wow are more than enough. God knows exactly what you mean.
The Quiet Liturgy of Nature
Out on my daily walks lately, I’ve noticed that I’m leaving the house earlier and earlier as the daylight thins. I find myself reaching for more layers to keep the chill at bay, even while holding onto a stubborn refusal to fully surrender to the changing season by continuing to wear my shorts.
There is a distinct, moody shift in the air right now. The trees are giving their last brilliant burst of color, releasing leaves that swirl onto damp pavement. The world smells delightfully like rot, wet earth, and sea salt. To stay warm, I’ve picked up my pace—swapping my usual audiobooks for Tchaikovsky’s symphonies, which provide a swelling, emotional soundtrack mirroring the wild beauty of the season.
All around the neighborhood, there is a quiet, collective tidying up: neighbors raking leaf piles, sweeping steps, and leaving out carved pumpkins that fill the air with that sweet, earthy scent of autumn decay.
Walking through it all, I am savoring this pale November light. It feels like a holy sanctuary. I find myself repeatedly pausing just to breathe it in, overflowing with quiet gratitude for this past month—for the incredible gift of my ordination, the sacred steps that brought me to this threshold, and the simple grace of witnessing nature's unhurried liturgy.
Questions for Your Heart & Household
As we step across this threshold together, I invite you to pause and consider these spiritual practices for your own journey this month:
What are you reading, listening to, or praying right now that is keeping you anchored in God's peace amidst the political noise?
Which of Anne Lamott’s three prayers—Help, Thanks, or Wow—does your soul need to pray most urgently today?
Where can you practice Mark’s urgent call to "turn around" this week by letting go of fear and stepping directly into an act of love or service in your neighborhood?
Gathering in Community
As the autumn daylight thins and the season draws us closer together, you are warmly invited to step into these upcoming gatherings in the life of our congregation:
Darkness into Light: Bach Chorale Preludes | Sunday, November 22 at 3:00 PM | Artist at the Organ Series, featuring David Buice. Experience a transcendent musical journey tracing the soul’s passage from life’s shadows into divine radiance. Echoing the church year—from Advent’s quiet expectation to Easter’s brilliance—this rich organ program explores longing, repentance, and eternal hope.
Thanksgiving Eve & the Threshold of Advent | Wednesday, November 25 at 6:30 PM | Gather in shared gratitude as handbells ring in the season of Advent. Together we will reflect on grace, thanksgiving, and holy reconciliation on these ancestral lands—followed by warm fellowship and, of course, pie.
A Heartfelt Word of Thanks
Finally, I want to express my deepest, most heartfelt gratitude for all of you who gathered to celebrate my ordination on October 24.
I am still floating in a state of unimaginable, joyful overwhelm thinking about everyone who showed up, sang, prayed, and bore witness to the ancient, sacred, and wonderfully mysterious rites of our Lutheran tradition. I am slowly making my way through your cards, letters, and thoughtful gifts—and I’ll be honest, every single one brings tears to my eyes.
To walk alongside you in this shared ministry is a profound honor and a humbling gift. You are truly my church family. We have so much beautiful, vital work ahead of us—so take a deep breath, rest up, and get ready!
A November Blessing
May you stand gently at this threshold,
as daylight thins and leaves swirl down,
learning from the earth how to let go without fear.
When political noise grows loud and draws you into dread,
may you remember whose image you bear.
May you find the holy audacity to take your Bible in your arms
and dance with the Word,
trusting the story that begins again today.
May the urgent grace of Mark’s Gospel awaken your feet,
calling you out of division and into revolutionary kindness—
where tables are widened, outcasts embraced,
and love is our only law.
On crisp walks wrapped in Smartwool and stubborn joy,
may the music of the season soundtrack your breath,
and autumn’s sweet, damp scent remind you
of the holy mystery of decay and rebirth.
And as you gather around tables of pie and prayer,
may you feel the deep weight of community holding you fast—
a cloud of witnesses walking beside you as you
step boldly into the new year.
Amen.
In Christ,
David Horton
Deacon of Liturgy & Spiritual Formation
