Reflections

That Was Fast

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 2 Comments
Clouds in the sky with sunlight illuminating from behind and to the side.

Having selected my Lenten discipline of giving up judgmentalism (and writing about it), I was promptly challenged to keep that discipline. I hadn’t even finished the first essay about the project when I encountered this story on Religion News Service by a reporter I follow on the BlueSky social network, Jack Jenkins: “400 Christian leaders urge resistance to Trump administration on Ash Wednesday.”

One of the reasons I chose to examine judgment and judgmentalism this Lent is that I’ve been challenged for judgmentalism. I’ve been taken to task for criticizing some behaviors while excusing others. I’ve been told that some of the things I protest in some have been done by others – did I protest them?

The critique has sometimes been fair. I can’t say I was aware of all the examples that I didn’t protest (which makes it harder to protest them), but it’s also true that those wouldn’t have circulated in places where I pay attention. Limit your attention; limit your awareness. That’s something to consider as I continue this Lenten reflection on judgmentalism.

There on the very first day I had to discern and judge, because the statement invited religious leaders to sign on. Whether I signed or not, I would be making a judgment.

I hadn’t expected it to happen so fast. I hadn’t expected to face a significant decision before I’d laid up some intellectual foundations. Ah, well. As Robert Burns wrote to a mouse:

But Mousie, thou art no thy-lane,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men
          Gang aft agley,
An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,
          For promis’d joy!

Robert Burns, from “To a Mouse”

So what to use to discern?

When I first considered this question over pork chops and mashed potato, the first thing I thought of as a feature of discernment was time. Before choosing, give it time. Before deciding, give it time. Before acting, give it time. I expect to spend more time on this element (see what I did there?) through the next six weeks, but even as I thought it over I realized that we make a number of decisions in the moment and rightly so. When I finished my meal I drove home. I made decision after decision in those few minutes without reflecting on it for more than an instant. If I hadn’t, I’d have run the front of my car into a car in front of me.

Likewise, I have to admit that I have spent long periods of time considering my actions and ended up deeply regretting what I’d chosen. Time is no panacea.

Nevertheless, I decided I would consider the decision over a day.

(I decided I would decide. See what I did there?)

I read the statement “A Call to Christians in a Crisis of Faith and Democracy” several times. It’s not a subtle piece. “We are facing a cruel and oppressive government,” it claims. “This political crisis is driven by people who have fallen for the temptation of absolute power,” it asserts. “Governance is being hollowed out and replaced with corruption, loyalty tests, intimidation, and the normalization of lawlessness,” it states. Strong words. Strong judgments. The authors of the statement have looked at the acts of the administration and made conclusions about the character of those acts: cruel, oppressive, corrupt, and lawless. Further, they have asserted that the temptation of absolute power is a driving factor for those who direct those acts.

I face the question: Do I concur with those judgments? Do I agree with their characterization of these acts? Do I accept the diagnosis of the motives?

Further, I read the list of signatories. Although I’ve been in ministry a long time, I didn’t recognize all the names. I saw many that were familiar, including quite a few whose words and work I’ve greatly admired. I also saw a number of people from organizations I’ve never heard of. I saw that representatives of the “mainline” Protestant churches clearly predominated, with a lot of leaders from ecumenical settings. A number of the people who signed come from my own denomination, the United Church of Christ, including our General Minister and President. Some of the signers are colleagues I deeply respect. Some are dear friends.

I face the question: Are these people whose discernment I trust? While I still have to do my own work, can I trust the work they have done?

The statement is not simply a diagnosis of our condition. It is also a call to action. Those who signed made eight commitments. The authors expanded more on them than I have here:

  • Protect and stand with vulnerable people,
  • Love our neighbors,
  • Speak truth to power,
  • Seek peace,
  • Do justice,
  • Strengthen democracy,
  • Practice hope, and
  • Ground our discipleship in prayer and inward journey.

I face the question: Are these commitments I can make? Are they consistent with my understanding of Christianity? Are they things I have the power to do? Are they things I have the will to do?

I slept on it. I read the statement again (and again). I reviewed the names. I found more names I knew. I considered the commitments.

Here’s the thing: I knew I was inclined to add my name to the list when I read Jack Jenkins’ headline. That was my first judgment, my off-the-cuff discernment. But was it judgmental? Particularly given the strong language about the political and spiritual condition of the nation?

Also, was I (am I) merely reinforcing my own pre-established conclusions? On the Sunday after the election, I said, “The United States has re-elected as President a devourer of widows’ houses. Plain and simple. Already his followers have sent messages to African American children telling them to report for sale as slaves. Already his followers have sent messages to women: ‘Your body. My choice.’”

Of the three areas of discernment I’ve named here, I had no problems with the commitments. I’ve held those as virtues consistent with Christianity for many years (which raises the problem of reinforcing my conclusions again). There were more than enough people whose judgment I trust in the list to make their willingness to sign compelling. The sticking point was: Do I agree enough with the diagnosis section to sign on to it? Do I need to learn more that either confirms or refutes that characterization of the administration’s acts?

This morning I sat with it again, considered it again. And I came to the same conclusion with which I’d started: I believe I know enough. I agree with the characterization. I need to make the commitment.

I signed.

Discerning a Lenten Discipline

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 4 Comments
A small plant grows from the top of a light pole with electrical and communications wires around it and just a hint of sunrise color in the clouds.

I take both sides of the annual Lenten argument about whether it is better to give things up or take things on. The point of Lenten discipline, I believe, is to invite God’s love, guidance, and compassion into your soul. That doesn’t happen the same way for every person, and for that matter, it doesn’t happen the same way for any one person at different times in their life. I’ve ruefully observed that when I’ve tried to repeat successful Lenten disciplines in later years, I haven’t been able to keep them. Familiarity may not breed contempt, but for me, novelty holds my attention better.

I still wish I could repeat the year I gave up anxiety for Lent. I’d like to give up anxiety for good.

Each year I choose two things. One is something to give up for the Lenten season. That has included different foods and beverages, activities, and yes, one year I gave up anxiety. The second is something to take on for the Lenten season. I’ve taken photos, written poetry, composed songs, exercised. With the two disciplines to either side, I’ve looked within each and between them both for the presence of God. Sometimes I just find myself – which isn’t a bad achievement, mind you. Sometimes I get a glimpse of eternity.

Another element of the practice is what I say about them. The “take on” projects tend to be visible (or audible, the year I wrote songs). I often acknowledge them and reflect on them during the season. In contrast, I say as little as I can manage about the “give up” disciplines. I’m trying to avoid public piety for public piety’s sake. It’s so easy to “look good” by spotlighting Lenten practice. Some people can do that and do that well. I prefer to keep a windy distance between my private devotion and public reputation.

That brings me (finally; what a long introduction this has been) to this year’s discipline. I’ve thought about things I could give up this year. I’ve thought about things I could take on. As I lingered over some delicious mashed potatoes with mushroom sauce, I considered giving up potatoes. That would have been quite a challenge for me, and definitely a challenging discipline. I may take it on in some other year.

Another challenge has presented itself recently, and I found myself lingering over that even more than over the mashed potatoes. Judgmentalism. It’s not a new struggle, and it’s not a new temptation for me. The first time I ever heard what I identified as the voice of God, it challenged a judgment I’d made. God told me I was wrong.

Given my inclinations, I’m not sure I can give up judgmentalism without great effort, even for forty-six days. I’m quite confident that the effort is worth it (is that judgmental?). I also think I need to struggle with it “out loud,” as it were, because I rapidly realized that it’s a complicated project.

Human beings can’t live without making judgments – quite literally. We have to make choices between options of food, drink, thoughts, approaches to tasks, even relationships. If I gave up making decisions for Lent, people would rightly accuse me of irresponsibility.

So what do I need to do to make an appropriate judgment that isn’t judgmental?

That is my Lenten project. I will write a series of essays on discernment, judgment, and judgmentalism with the goal of reducing the last and strengthening the first. I have no outline for the project other than to somewhat aimlessly predict that there will be six essays, one written during each week in the season. It’s possible there may be more, as one way of considering these questions is to work through actual issues I’m considering rather than consider the issues in the abstract.

So that’s my Lenten discipline, spread out before you. I pray God’s blessings upon you in your own practices through this time and all time.

Oh, one other thing. I decided that each essay would be accompanied by a new original photo. As I learned during last year’s sabbatical, photography has been good for my soul, so I need it in this project.

Photo by Eric Anderson

Video: Kilauea Eruption December 2024 – December 2025

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 4 Comments

Kilauea, whose peak rises just around 30 miles from my home, resumed erupting in the summit caldera in December 2024. As 2026 begins, there have been 40 eruption “episodes,” including some very dramatic fountaining reaching heights of over 1200 feet. Of the 40, I have observed 18 and captured a very large number of photos and videos. I began to create summary videos, and have settled on producing them in three month intervals.

My great thanks to Scott Buckley, composer of “Snowfall” which I’ve used as the background music for each video, both for writing a great piece and making at available for use with a Creative Commons license.

December 2024 – March 2025

This video includes material filmed from seven visits to the caldera during eruption events.

April 2025 – May 2025

This video includes material filmed from four visits to the caldera during eruption events. It probably includes footage of the highest fountains I have observed to date.

June 2025 – August 2025

This video includes material filmed from two visits to the caldera during eruption events.

September 2025 – December 2025

I visited the Kilauea summit nine times between September and December, including four fountaining events. There was visible surface lava during a couple of the other visits, and, of course, there were always the stunning sights of the Kilauea caldera. This video does not include the dramatic fountains of episode 40, which took place January 12, 2026.

2025: Sabbatical, Birds, and Passage

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 3 Comments
2025: A Year

In 2025 I took my first sabbatical since arriving at Church of the Holy Cross UCC in April 2016 – which was, shall we say, overdue. Several friends and colleagues have been either asking me about my plans or, shall we say, nudging me to make them. I won’t go into the reasons why I delayed it. Some of them are obvious given the world of 2020 to 2023. Some of them are, shall we say, entirely my own fault.

I took it in time.

The last time I took a sabbatical was from my position with the historic Connecticut Conference. I’d delayed that one, too, for reasons that seemed good at the time. It meant that when I did take it, I basically collapsed for quite a long time. I didn’t have enough energy to learn many new things or to do things that refreshed me. This time, I was able to make the journeys that nourished my soul.

I produced a video as part of my sabbatical report.

I traveled a lot during 2025, eventually becoming grateful for the times I wasn’t traveling. I made trips to O’ahu, Kaua’i, and the northeast during my sabbatical. For the first time since 2016, I celebrated Easter with family, attending church with my daughter Rebekah in Northampton, Massachusetts. We drove to Watertown, New York, to see my stepmother and her grandmother Shirley, and I also visited my son Brendan in Burlington, Vermont, and aunt and uncle in New Hampshire. The trips around the Hawaiian islands were related to one of my sabbatical projects, which was to visit all the islands – which almost happened. I didn’t make it to Maui (though I’d been there before) or Molokai, so that still needs to happen.

Me, Rebekah, and Shirley

In June I was back on Kaua’i for the Hawai’i Conference’s ‘Aha Pae’aina, or annual meeting. I took the opportunity to visit two birding sites and was rewarded with lots of new birds and amazing images. I also headed for the rear tables in the meeting itself to leave room for the new Conference Council Chair to do her work as moderator, which she did very well.

A week later I was back in New England for a cousin’s wedding, which I never attended as I came down with Covid and had to keep separate from everyone. It was a pretty bitter disappointment.

Two weeks later and recovered I was off again, this time to the General Synod of the United Church of Christ, held in Kansas City this year. I had a brand new set of responsibilities: as a member of the Board of Directors of the UCC Media Justice Ministry, I was one of the leaders of a workshop led by the Ministry and helped staff our exhibit hall booth. I’ve attended quite a number of Synods as a reporter/photographer, and a couple as a delegate. This was a much more relaxed schedule, but it still kept me busy.

Members of the UCC Media Justice Ministry Board

Back from Synod, I was able to turn my attention to a gap in our church staff. Our choir director, Doug Albertson, retired at the end of 2024. With me absent we’d put off the search for a new director. In the fall we brought on Bob Grove, a wonderfully talented and tender person who brought our choir to a lovely debut on Christmas Eve. With the choir working up, I continued to sing a solo one Sunday a month during the anthem time.

I took something of a musical break during my sabbatical. I wrote no songs at all during those three months, which suggests to me that composition had lost some of its creative release for me. Over the course of the year, however, I did write seven songs, which are collected in 2025: The Songs. In the fall I rejoined the Big Island Singers (I didn’t sing with them in the spring) and even took their portraits for the electronic program. As the year ended, illness took its toll on some of our planned performances. Bob Grove gathered a men’s trio for a Sunday, and one of it members couldn’t sing and we had to cancel. On Christmas Eve Bekah and I planned to sing together, and illness brought her low.

August brought a terrible shock: the death of my stepmother, Shirley Anderson. She had been my stepmother, in fact, longer than I’d had my mother. Shirley was one of the world’s great souls, bringing love and cheer and compassion with a quiet determination that I’ve never seen match. As her son Ken said, she was one of the best of us. We all miss her terribly. In October I made yet another trip to New England – the third of the year – to lay her to rest.

During and after my sabbatical, photography provided my creative anchor and outlet. A lot of those photos featured birds. I added thirty-two species to my official “life list,” but that’s partially because I only started keeping one a couple years ago. A species I grew up with, the Northern Cardinal, I “officially” recorded for the first time in 2025. Still. I saw several birds I’d simply never seen before and got photos of nearly all of them. I got really satisfying images of i’iwi, ‘akiapola’au, ‘apapane, kolea, ‘akekeke, kioea, and more. At year’s end, I produced a self-published children’s story book of “The ‘Apapane’s Christmas Pageant.” I took most of the photos for it this year. There’s some excitement about it within the church and we hope to make it more widely available in the coming year. You can read the story here.

A koa’e kea flies near a lava fountain (one of the images in “The ‘Apapane’s Christmas Pageant”)

It wasn’t just birds. I still like to take pictures of flowers, and I took quite a few. Over and over again, the Kilauea volcano drew me to the summit. There have been 39 eruptive events since last December, and I have seen around half of them. The result is hundreds of photos and videos.

Twin fountains on March 23, 2025.

The year ended with a deep delight: my son Brendan and daughter Rebekah visited from just before Christmas until New Year’s Eve. As I hinted above, Bekah promptly fell ill and left Brendan and I to do some exploratory hikes while she recovered. Regrettably, they missed a fountain event the night after they arrived, but the timing was really poor to drive up to see it, and the next morning Bekah reported she was sick.

Brendan and Rebekah at the Kilauea summit.

My tenth anniversary as pastor of Church of the Holy Cross UCC comes up this April, a solid decade of life and work and music and photography in this precious place, a literal thin spot of the Earth. May it bring life, work, music, and wonders.

6A521321-89CE-452F-849C-1E214395F3AF

Birds of 2025

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 6 Comments

I’m a neophyte birder. I give credit for prescience to former Connecticut Conference Minister the Rev. Dr. Davida Foy Crabtree, who gave me Hawaii’s Birds (Audobon, 1997) as I was moving to Hilo. As I’ve said elsewhere, I began learning about local birds in order to tell stories during worship services. Most of the creatures that I grew up learning and knowing about simply don’t live here. On an island with very few native mammals, I turned to birds as the inspiration and characters for these stories. Many of those stories are archived here.

It was only last year that I began formally recording bird sightings through a service of the Cornell Lab of Ornithology called eBird. In 2025 I completed 43 checklists, attaching photos to twelve of them. I took 1,191 photos and 107 videos that I’d be willing to show somebody else. The sightings covered 45 species on three of the Hawaiian Islands and in Connecticut.

That’s not a lot of species for a serious birder, but that’s a part of living in Hawai’i. It is a lot of photo and video material. As the end of the year approached, I realized that I had more bird material than I could include in my annual “A Year” video. The result is the video above, featuring some of the birds I saw and photographed in 2025.

Some of my favorite photos are, of course, in the video, but here they are in a gallery as well.

Enjoy!

Photo Gallery: Birds of 2025

Gallery of Hawaiian birds.
‘Amakihi
Chinese Hwamei
Zebra Dove
‘Apapane (juvenile)
Saffron Finch
Nene
Nene
Erckel’s Spurfowl
Mejiro (Warbling White-eye)
‘Alawi (Hawai’i Creeper)
Oma’o
‘Apapane
‘Akiapola’au
‘Akiapola’au
‘Akiapola’au (juvenile or female)
‘Amakihi
‘Amakihi
‘Iwa (Great Frigatebird)
Koa’e ‘Ula (Red-tailed Tropicbird)
‘A (Red-footed Booby)
‘A (Red-footed Booby)
White-rumped Shama
Mallard
A’eo (Black-necked Stilt, Hawaiian)
A’eo (Black-necked Stilt, Hawaiian)
Ala’e Ke’oke’o (Hawaiian Coot)
Auku’u (Black-crowned Night Heron)
Ala’e ‘Ula (Hawaiian Gallinule)
Manu-o-Ku (White Tern)
‘Amakihi
‘Apapane
Hawai’i ‘Elepaio
Hawai’i ‘Elepaio
I’iwi
I’iwi
I’iwi
I’iwi
‘Amakihi
Java Sparrow
Koa’e Kea (White-tailed Tropicbird)
Red-crested Cardinal
White-rumped Shama
Koloa (Hawaiian Duck)
Ala’e ‘Ula (Hawaiian Gallinule)
Yellow-billed Cardinal
Northern Cardinal
Yellow-billed Cardinal
Hunakai (Sanderling)
Oma’o (juvenile)
Koa’e Kea (White-tailed Tropicbird)
Yellow-billed Cardinal (juvenile)
‘Akekeke (Ruddy Turnstone)
Kolea (Pacific Golden Plover)
Kioea (Bristle-thighed Curlew)
‘Akekeke at rear, Kolea at front

Video: Kilauea Eruption December 2024 – August 2025

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 4 Comments

Kilauea, whose peak rises just around 30 miles from my home, resumed erupting in the summit caldera in December 2024. As September begins, there have been 32 eruption “episodes,” including some very dramatic fountaining reaching heights of over 1200 feet. Of the 32, I have observed 14 and captured a very large number of photos and videos. I began to create summary videos, and have settled on producing them in three month intervals.

My great thanks to Scott Buckley, composer of “Snowfall” which I’ve used as the background music for each video, both for writing a great piece and making at available for use with a Creative Commons license.

December 2024 – March 2025

This video includes material filmed from seven visits to the caldera during eruption events.

April 2025 – May 2025

This video includes material filmed from four visits to the caldera during eruption events. It probably includes footage of the highest fountains I have observed to date.

June 2025 – August 2025

This video includes material filmed from two visits to the caldera during eruption events.

Sabbatical 2025: The Video

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 3 Comments

During my sabbatical, which ran from February 1, 2025, to April 30, 2025, I had two major projects. In the end, I made progress on both but did not complete either.

I have a tentative list of stories which I will be preparing and submitting for publication. Just reading them took longer than I’d anticipated. I also didn’t make it to the islands of Maui or Moloka’i, in part because I’d had to schedule other needed appointments during that time. I do have a plan to complete that, however.

Something which hadn’t been on my list became enormously important: photography. Capturing the beauty I encountered really lifted my soul, and became the most restoring activity of my sabbatical.

For the time and for the wonders of the world formed by its Creator, I am deeply grateful.

Sabbatical and Ordained Geek

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 4 Comments
Sunrise behind a palm tree.

January 28, 2025

On February 1st, I begin a three month sabbatical, a time to lay down my responsibilities as Pastor of Church of the Holy Cross UCC in Hilo, and to use the time to learn, to renew, and to take on some projects that I haven’t been able to accomplish amidst the daily tasks of ministry. I described my sabbatical objectives in today’s edition of What I’m Thinking embedded above; there is a transcript available here.

What, if anything, does my sabbatical mean for Ordained Geek?

I will be posting less material here. The weekly #lectionprayers are a part of my sermon preparation process. With no sermons to write for three months, I don’t plan to compose those poem/prayers. Likewise I don’t expect to write new stories for worship during this time. Again, I prepare those for worship services I won’t be leading in February, March, and April. The stories and the poem/prayers will certainly return in May, when I resume both my preaching responsibilities and my preparation practices.

That doesn’t mean I’ll have no posts during that time. I may share a story or two that I haven’t before. There are some stories I’ve written elsewhere, or never actually written in full, that I want to consider for the collection which is one of my sabbatical objectives. I anticipate posting them here to help me review them.

I also expect to write some other reflections. I have committed myself to commenting on injustices when I see them, and I already see them. It’s possible that I may turn to poetry for those, and it’s possible that I will write additional essays. One is taking shape in my head, and I expect to post it before long.

I may also prepare some other pieces arising from my sabbatical experience. I didn’t do that when I last took a sabbatical in 2014, but in those days I worked in electronic communications. I had to set much of that aside in order to find refreshment in the time. That’s less true now, so we’ll see how that goes. Besides, I rather hope to share a few photos from my travels around the Hawaiian Islands.

It is also vaguely possible that I’ll write and share new songs during this time. It’s not a part of my sabbatical plan, but I hope that some of my refreshment may come through music. If so, I may post them here.

And finally, I will commit to a Lenten discipline of some kind. I don’t know what it will be, but the chances are good it will be visual (for me, that usually means photography). If it makes sense, you’ll probably see the results here.

You’ll see less from me these three months, but there will be new things coming during that time, and certainly once May has arrived.

Thank you for your encouragement and support!

New Year’s Resolution: No Regrets

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 4 Comments
The 1943 booking photos of Sophie Scholl. They show three views of a brown haired young woman: in profile, face front, and from a quartering side.

January 24, 2025

People who know me well may sigh at the title of this essay. They’d be right. Regret is a familiar presence in my life. I replay most of my disappointments in my memory quite often. I don’t “solve” them. I don’t develop theories about how I might have influenced a different outcome. I just… regret them.

Those who know me well might encourage me to shed regret, but neither they nor I expect me to do so.

I hope to prevent regret. Well, no. I hope to prevent one kind of regret.

In 1946 the Rev. Martin Niemoller addressed the Confessing Church in Frankfurt, Germany. In his speech he confessed the failures he and other church leaders had made as the Nazis consolidated their power in the 1930s. Later, his words were set poetically. This version is displayed at the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington, DC:

First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out—
     Because I was not a socialist.

Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out—
     Because I was not a trade unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—
     Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

Niemoller’s confession is a sigh of regret for his silence.

I pledge that I shall not regret my silence.

I believe that the return of Donald Trump as President of the United States marks the end of this nation’s republican form of government. I do not believe that there will be another Presidential election, at least one in which anyone other than a single candidate can possibly emerge as victor. Frankly, I’d love to be demonstrated wrong about this, but the evidence is grave. In 2021, Mr. Trump’s words inspired thousands of people to invade the seat of the legislature as they were counting votes: the signature activity of a republic. With his first-day pardons of those criminally indicted and convicted, he has demonstrated that he will not tolerate limits upon his claims of power. Instead, he will promote those who support him with words, and also those who support him with violence.

How will this be accomplished? I do not know. I can think of more than one way, and I will not write them here. I don’t need to give anyone any ideas.

Already the President and his supporters have called for the punishment of a religious leader who dared to ask him – ask him – to act with mercy. The President himself insulted the Right Reverend Mariann Edgar Budde, Bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Washington, DC. One of his followers, a member of Congress, called for her to be “deported.” Others have decried the use of a religious setting to make “political” statements, as if Christianity had no connection to, and no obligation to call for, mercy.

Let me be clear. Christians, and Christian leaders, have an obligation to call for mercy. They have an obligation to call for justice. They have an obligation to speak for those at risk of harm. Niemoller knew it – too late. Bishop Budde knew it, and spoke the truth of the Gospel.

May she inspire me.

In the weeks I have been considering this essay (it is weeks in the writing), I had initially intended to take as a guide the example of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, another of the German Confessing Church leaders but one whose words landed him in prison. He was executed after he was implicated in the 1944 assassination plot in which a bomb injured Adolf Hitler. Earlier than most, Bonhoeffer spoke against German violence against Jews, and passed up several opportunities to leave Germany for safer posts in England and the United States.

I will not leave.

More recently, however, I have reread the story of Sophie Scholl, a twenty-one year old university student executed by the Nazi German government for “treason” in February 1943. She and other students published The White Rose, naming the government’s sins and urging resistance. Caught after only seven months, she and two others, one of them her brother Hans, were executed within days.

They spoke out, and they paid the price.

I will speak out.

To be honest, I doubt that my words will have much influence. I doubt that my words will dissuade the administration from its administration of evils. I doubt that my words will prevent the dissolution of the republic. I even doubt that my words will annoy them enough to bother to silence me.

Nevertheless, I will speak out.

No regrets.

The image is the booking photograph of Sophie Scholl, taken in 1943 by an unknown German police officer – Stadtarchiv München[1]; Quellen zur Weissen Rose, 20.2.1943[2], Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=114539963.

2024: Birds and Music

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 3 Comments

After three years of living a very different existence, in the midst of and in the decline of a global pandemic, I found much of it rather exhausting. 2024 felt like playing “catch up” on projects and plans that had been deferred while managing COVID-19. Frankly, that wasn’t easy.

Church of the Holy Cross was able to give energy and focus to things we hadn’t. We resumed welcoming people into membership, and we launched an Open and Affirming committee. We continued to live stream worship via YouTube, since it serves both people who live at a distance and people who cannot attend worship. Video did not replace people in a sanctuary, and it won’t. It’s a different experience, and still worthwhile.

I completed my service as Chair of the Hawai’i Conference Council in June, presiding over an in-person ‘Aha Pae’aina for the first time. The meeting included a lengthy debate over an issue that continues to trouble the Conference: what financial support the Conference should give toward a position in one of the Associations. During my four years, the delegates chose both to fund it and not to fund it by narrow margins. I’m pretty sure that it will take more time and discussion before people consider it resolved.

To my sorrow, I found myself returning to the Chair of the Hawai’i Island Association Committee on Ministry, from which I’d stepped down when elected as Conference Council Chair. I returned to the Committee in May in great part because of the shortage of ordained ministers on Hawai’i Island. During the summer our Chair, the Rev. Larry Walter, died. The Association asked me to fill in, and then elected me to continue the work in the fall. The Committee was further marked by tragedy when one of the lay members, David Williams, died unexpectedly in October.

I continued to make a lot of music. I wrote eight songs in 2024, and all eight are available at 2024: The Songs. The instrument count remained the same (this year’s major expense category was cameras). I sang the spring and fall seasons of the Big Island Singers, which was both great fun and a huge amount of work. The fall concert included my solo performance of “Creature of this World,” which is now two years old. I continued the weekly “Song from Church of the Holy Cross” and the monthly Community Sings. I decided to reduce my solo Community Concerts, however, to four times a year. As the year closed, the musical community of east Hawai’i made its way to Church of the Holy Cross the sing Handel’s Messiah together.

I continued to write weekly LectionPrayers here on my blog, and also contributed to The Living Psalms project of the UCC. Preparing for worship I wrote liturgical materials, sermons, and stories. In the fall, I was welcomed onto the Board of the UCC Media Justice Ministry, my first appointment to a national ministry of the denomination.

I didn’t have a lot of visitors this year – and after welcoming my brother by getting a stomach bug and my cousin by having my water heater break I don’t blame them. Ben and Dee Anderson (no relation) came to Hawai’i in February and Ben did a dialogue sermon with me in church that Sunday.

Kilauea summit, April 1, 2024.

My primary outlet this year (and the most expensive) has been photography. I returned to many of my favorite subjects in 2024, including flowers, sunrises, the occasional sunset, landscapes, and natural shapes. A couple of my favorite images this year were black-and-white. I gave a lot of my attention, however, to birds. I can no longer claim I am not a birder.

Selected Favorite Birds 2024 - 1 of 59

I not only pointed my camera at birds, I made plans to go photograph them. Rather foolishly, I promised a friend I’d take a picture of a bird I hadn’t seen in eight years (the i’iwi, a distinctive Hawaiian honeycreeper with a distinctive long curved orange beak). I got a photo, and I even liked it. I even saw (and got a bad photo of) a bird I hadn’t even heard of, the ‘akiapola’au, thanks to two birders who were seeking it by the trail.

Next year, I plan to spend some time on other islands, and yes, I’ll bring my camera.

I didn’t do a lot of traveling in 2024. I made three trips to O’ahu as part of my Conference work, and flew to the northeast in July/August to visit my more-scattered family in Connecticut, Massachusetts, Vermont, and New York. I could have added Maine to that list, but I spent too much time in the rental car as it was. With driving being my primary activity, my photos tended to be of people I love, and there’s nothing wrong with that. I will say that the day Paul Bryant-Smith and I kayaked down a river in New York State was great fun and amazing birding – I saw great blue herons and bald eagles veery closely – but fortunately for my camera, I didn’t bring it along to share my dips in the creek.

2025 will bring something I’ve been waiting for this year: the second sabbatical of my career. Expect to see less new writing, as I’ve got a project for the time, but also expect to see some more photographs.

I suspect that a number of them will be of birds.

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