Uncategorized Archives - From a Rocky Hillside

Jeff Garrison
Mayberry Presbyterian Church
100^th Anniversary ServiceJune 13, 2025
Joshua 5:8-12

NOTE: Because of the special celebration concluding Mayberry’s 100th year, I will only be preaching at Mayberry today. Elder Karen Motsinger will preach at Bluemont. Mayberry began its 100th year last September as we celebrated our 100th year as a congregation meeting in the Old Mayberry School House. We end the celebration today, recalling our 100th anniversary of moving into the church building in July 1925.

Sermon recorded at Mayberry Church on Friday, July 11, 2025.

At the beginning of worship:

100 years. That’s a long time ago. None of us were here in 1925 when the congregation moved into this building.100 might be the age some inspire to live, but only a few make it. I’m sure those who built this church building a 100 years ago couldn’t comprehend us celebrating their achievements today any more than we can comprehend such a gathering in 2125.

But in some ways, 100 years doesn’t seem that long ago. Our nation is nearly 250 years old. When our spiritual ancestors moved into this building, our nation’s centennial was a distant memory and probably few remembered it. And our Christian faith is 2000 years old, 8 times older than our nation and 20 times older than this building. In light of eternity, 100 years ain’t even a drop in the bucket.

Time keeps marching on. Over the past year, with our Mayberry moments,^[1] we have learned more about our congregation’s history. Our beginnings went back before this building, from a gathering under a brush arbor to a Sunday school meeting in the old schoolhouse which used to sit in what’s now the parking lot of our community building. We’re heard about the nearby farm boys running up to church early on winter mornings to light a fire in the potbelly stove. There were difficult years after the 2^nd World War. Attendance declined and the building became a chapel under Slate Mountain Presbyterian. Then, in the 1970s, we regained momentum and became independent again.

In 100 years, we’ve had ups and downs. A lot of good people have joined the church. We’ve had joyous weddings but also sad funerals. But through it all, God has been with us. We’re not to take credit for any success, but to give credit to the Almighty.

Before reading the Scripture:

We’re going to go back into the Old Testament today. Our passage comes at the point when Israel enters the Promised Land. The Hebrew people recall who they are and to whom they belong. It’s a transition, an occasion for religious rituals and feasts. The fifth chapter of Joshua begins with the circumcision of the men, resuming a practice that had not happened during the wilderness. Then they celebrate Passover.

Interestingly, there are six major Passover celebrations recorded in the Hebrew Scriptures. The first is in Egypt, right before they left. The second is a year later, at Sinai, with the giving of the law. This is the third celebration. The fourth and fifth celebrations come with King Hezekiah and Josiah as they try to reform Israel. The sixth celebration is at the rebuilding of the temple after the Babylonian exile. Each of these events marks a significant point in Israel’s history.^[2]

If you want to play with numbers, the number seven in Scripture is holy. We’ve seen that recently in my sermons on Revelation. Jesus celebrated the Passover with the disciples and reinterpreted it. Jesus then becomes the sacrificial lamb, as God passes over our sins for which Jesus paid the price. Jesus’ Passover makes seven.

As I’ve said, our morning text comes at a time of transition, the ending of the Exodus and the entry into the Promised Land. There will be no turning back. God has led them this far, now they are having to do something for themselves. The manna from heaven has come to an end. God calls them into the future. Likewise, God calls us into the future, into our second hundred years.

Read Joshua 5:8-12

All of us go through transitions—as individuals and as communities. One day we’re happy in school and the next we’re working 9 to 5 (or 11 to 7 in my case, for when I finished college I went straight onto the night shift). One day we’re enjoying our mom’s cooking and the next we’re eating burnt toast and running eggs prepared with our own hands. And one day we’re going to work and the next we’re retired. One day people walked or rode a horse to church and now everyone arrives in cars. Life is full of changes: always has been, always will be.

The Hebrew people went through a significant transition. After 400 years of slavery and 40 years of wandering in the desert, they finally enter the land promised to Abraham and his descendants. Now they’ve come to their new home, two things happen. They are weaned from God’s daily providence of substance and once again required, as we’re told in the third chapter of Genesis, to make a living from the sweat of their brow.^[3]

Second, they’re finally able to freely institute religious rituals without being harassed by their masters’ or prohibited from doing due to their wandering in the desert. This transition is marked by the reinstitution of circumcision and the celebration of Passover.

Today, the church in America and the Western World faces changes. We must relearn what it means to be a follower of Jesus in a new and radically different world from which we’ve known. We must learn how to share Jesus in a new way which will reach a new generation who approaches life differently. Yes, we’re facing transitions. But the one thing that never changes is the love of God and the command to love others.

You remember, I’m sure, the story of how Israel got to where she’s at in our reading. After the freeing of the Hebrew people from slavery, they cross the sea, which closes in and drowns the pursing Egyptian army. But even after that, they remain in a precarious position.

Yes, they’re free, but how do you feed a nation in a barren wilderness? In Egypt, they’d filled their stomach on grains and meat but in the desert, the pickings are slim. There aren’t that many mountain goats and fried cactus for dinner doesn’t go over very well. There’s this small problem of having toothpicks hidden in the entrée.

But God isn’t going to lose his redeemed people, so he provides for their nourishment. A bread-like substance called manna falls from the heavens onto the ground. In the mornings they gather enough for that day, but if they try to hoard any extra, it spoils. It’s not a commodity to be saved and traded with others. The only day they can “collect” an extra measure is the day before the Sabbath, when they need enough for two days.^[4]

Yet, they soon tire of eating this stuff. So, God provides quails for meat.^[5] And so, for forty years, their diet consisted of manna and quail, provided through an ultra-efficient food delivery system, fresh right outside their tents every morning. Life isn’t hard and they get used to it.

But all things must come to an end and so it is with the manna and quail. Upon entering the Promised Land, the Hebrew people hold a Passover feast and from then on work for their daily bread. God’s ultimate welfare system is replaced, and everyone is required to follow a plow or chop weeds. God provides fertile soil and rain, but God also wants us to grow to where we can take responsibility and do our part in working within creation.

Erich Fromm wrote a wonderful philosophical treatise titled, The Art of Loving. I assure you; the book isn’t as risqué as it sounds. Fromm draws from scripture as he writes about “motherly love.” God creates the world and humanity. Within the world God provides our basic needs, but God goes further and declares, “It is good.” This corresponds with “motherly love” by providing for our needs and helping us to experience the joy of life. With the Promised Land, flowing with milk and honey, we have additional signs of motherly love—milk to nourish and honey to remind us of the sweetness of life. God says to Israel through the Prophet Isaiah, “As a mother comforts her child, so I will comfort you.”^[6]

Yet, motherly love is built on inequality. The infant child is totally dependent on the mother. Motherly love must grow and change as the child grows. If the child is to become a separate human being and able to express love to others, the mother can’t continue to provide for all his or her needs. In addition to motherly love, Fromm speaks of brotherly and erotic love which, unlike motherly love, exists in its finest form between equals.^[7]

God provides for the Israelites in the wilderness in a very special way. But the free food wasn’t to continue. For once God provides them with a homeland, they’re required to participate with God as co-creators as they toil to raise their food. Of course, God doesn’t lead them into the land and abandon them, just as God doesn’t abandon us. God remains at their side. Having protected and provided for them during the wilderness, they can now fulfill the role which God had destined for them.

God wants us to mature, to get to a point we can be responsible and take care of ourselves and fully participate with him in the role assigned to us. When God carries us, as he did with the Hebrew children in the Exodus, we learn we are to depend on God. When God leads us to a new place where we can be productive, we shouldn’t forget that lesson but instead give God thanks for giving us the means to take care of ourselves.

Those of us here at Mayberry have seen evidence of God providing and being with us throughout the past century.

But God doesn’t call us to rest upon our laurels. So, this morning we should ask how we can use what God has given us to continue partner with God. We have been blessed and for that we should give God thanks as we serve as a blessing to others. As the church moves into our second century, let’s remember to work not just for our own wellbeing, but for the wellbeing of those within our community, near and far. God has provided what we need. It’s up to us to make a difference. Amen.

^[1] To read these moments, check out the Mayberry Presbyterian Church’s Facebook page. See https://www.facebook.com/littlechurchdoingbigthings

^[2] E. John Hamlin, Joshua: Inheriting the Land (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1983), 36-37. Text for the other five celebrations in the Old Testament: Exodus 12:27-29, Numbers 9:5, 2 Chronicles 30, 2 Kings 23:21-23, Ezra 6:19-20

^[3] Genesis 3:19.

^[4] See Exodus 16 and Numbers 11.

^[5] Exodus 16:13 and Numbers 11:31

^[6] Isaiah 66:13

^[7] Erich Fromm, The Art of Loving (1956, Harper&Row, Perennial Library, 1974), 41-44.

The year before I left my job with the Boy Scouts and headed to seminary, I wrote out five-year goals. One goal was to be act in a play. I have always enjoyed the theater and wanted to experience acting firsthand. I got my chance when I moved to Virginia City in September 1988. A week or two after arriving on the Comstock, I saw an advertisement for tryouts for a play which would include students and adults.

I asked some of the church folks about the Mucker’s Theater Group and received mixed feelings. For years, they had used the church for their performances. But there had been some bad blood between the two organizations. They were supposed to clean up the church on Saturday nigh, returning the sanctuary to a state where worship could be held the next day. A few years before, when the theater group left the church chancel looking like a bar after a fright on Sunday morning, the church threw the group out.

In the hope of removing some of the bad blood between the theater and the church, as well as meeting a personal goals, I showed up at the tryouts. I was offered the role of Joe Stoddard, the town’s undertaker. My presence in the play brought many of the church members back to the theater.

We began practicing in September. It was still warm and daylight when practice began, but as they continued, the weather became cooler, and daylight decreased. Our production ran from Thursday through Saturday evenings, November 10-12. By then, the zephyrs blew and we experienced a few snow flurries.

For a town with only 700 residents, we played to pack houses. Almost everyone attended, not just from the town but from down in the valley. By the third night, we were feeling pretty good about the attendance and the play itself. This set the scene for one of my favorite memories of my time in Virginia City which occurred on the last night of the play.

“You know, we’re missing the Flapper tonight,” I confided to Penny and Christy as we waited backstage for the curtain to rise for the closing night.” I hoped someone might be interested after the play and cast party. Since this play had a cast that included elementary school students, the planned party only involved cake and punch.

“We don’t have to miss it,” Christy said as she lowered her voice. “Let’s slip out after our scene in Act 1. We don’t have to be back until the 3rd Act.

“Should we?” Penny asked.

Christy and I smiled.

The three of us had minor parts in the play that involved the entire community. With a high school that fourteen graduates in its senior class, everyone had to be involved. Penny and Christy were both teachers. The school janitor had the leading role as the stage manager. Emily and George Gibbs, two other leading characters, were high school students. Bill, the director was a halftime teacher and a halftime state employee for the purpose of fostering the arts in rural parts of the state.

Twenty minutes after the play began, we slipped out from behind the gym that also served as the auditorium for the Virginia City School on D Street. The night was cold. As we climbed the steep steps up to C Street, we giggled as we began to breathe heavily. Our warm breath appeared as smoke that filled the air. We crossed an abandoned C Street on the south end of the business district this time at night, and headed north up the boardwalk. After we crossed Dayton Street, where there were still bars opened, a few cars were parked along the road. When we arrived at the Silver Stope, the bar which hosted the party, Christy took hold of one of my arms, Penny grabbed the other.

“We’ve come all the way from Grover’s Corner,” we shouted, making a grand entrance. All three of us had minor parts in the play, but we enjoyed hamming it up for the bar patrons. Most of the patrons dressed as if they were visiting a New York Speakeasy during the 1920s. Almost all of them had seen the play earlier in the week warmly welcomed us to the party.

Of course, we weren’t dressed as flappers. New Englanders didn’t have time for such nonsense. Christy and Penny played the wives of farmers and wore calico dresses. As Joe Stoddard, the town undertaker, I sported black jacket and a stovepipe hat, which had probably been left-over from some school play about Abraham Lincoln. With my costume, I could have just as easily played the role of a well-to-do 19th Century Mormon polygamist taking my wives out for a drink.

While most of the bar’s patrons dressed like flappers, one person stood out. Murray Mack was on the piano, wearing his usual evening attire for a night on the Comstock, a rather loud 1970s era polyester leisure suit. Murray, who repaired glass during the daytime, would dress up at night and was well-known for his gift of pounding out ragtime on the piano. Tonight, he had moved up a decade to play jazz.

On the floor in the middle of the bar sat an antique claw-footed bathtub filled with a pink liquid. We were handed three clear-glass cups which must have come from someone’s punch bowl set and were encouraged to imbibe. We all scooped a cupful of the concoction. It was awful. I didn’t ask for the recipe, but I assumed it consisted of 190 proof Everclear, or maybe it was kerosene, mixed with powdered Kool-Aid. After my first sip, I looked to find a place to ditch my drink. Seeing no plants in need of watering, I excused myself and took my cup into the bathroom.

Moments later, I returned with an empty cup. The bartender came from behind the bar to snap of photo of us with a Polaroid camera. This photo enshrined us on the bulletin board by the door. Having just emptied my cup, I felt bad dipping it back into the drink. But they insisted I have some of the so-called gin in my cup, so I reluctantly dipped it back into the tub. It was more of the thought of dipping a used cup into the juice that bothered me for that tub contained enough alcohol to have killed any depictable germ residing on my cup.

With my cup nearly pouring over, the three of us stood behind the tub and raised our cups for a toast to the Virginia City Mucker’s production of “Our Town.” He snapped a photo. We asked the bartender if he would snap another, so we could present the director evidence of what some of his adult cast were doing between their scenes. He did. After visiting with folks for a few minutes, we placed our cups on the bar and headed back to the high school. I noticed, like me, neither Penny nor Christy had finished their drinks.

We were back in time for the final act. As undertaker, I had to see to it that Emily Gibbs was buried one final time. Penny, who played her mother, sobbed throughout the scene. Christy, ignoring her blocking instructions and her lines, stepped in front of Penny to console her grieving friend.

“It’ll be okay,” Christy whispered, patting Penny on the back. “We can go to my house afterwards and have a decent drink.”

This was the Mucker’s second time producing “Our Town.” The first production was 31 years earlier, in 1957, in which Bob Del Carlo, who was sheriff for Storey County when I was on the Comstock, played the lead as the Stage Manager.

For much of the church’s history, the theater and the saloon would have been off-limits for Presbyterian ministers serving the Comstock. In the 19^th Century, the church was often at odds with the theater and alcohol was a terrible social problem. Church members were discouraged from frequenting the theater or inbibing. Yet, the theater and saloon thrived during the days of bonanza.

Other writings of my time in Virginia City:

Sunday afternoon drive to Gerlach

Arriving in Virginia City

David Henry Palmer arrives in Virginia City, 1863

Doug and Elvira

Matt and Virginia City

Riding in the cab of a locomotive on the V&T

Christmas Eve

Category: Uncategorized

100 Years of Transitions

Virginia City’s Mucker’s presents Thornton Wilder’s “Our Town”