Monika Rutkowski

I moved to Boulder in 2008 and began my search for a fitting church, coming from the East Coast, where I had been a member of a Presbyterian church and their festival choir. Fortunately, I found First Congregational Church, where the music drew me in.

It took a while before I realized that just being a member was not moving me forward in my still somewhat child-like relation to God. I needed active involvement more than being a listener only. So, I joined the choir, and singing with others was a tremendous gift of belonging. Yet, I kept wondering, given my many blessings, good health and lots of energy, whether there were other avenues to express my deep sense of gratitude. The church was of great help with all the possible areas of involvement such as the visitation ministry, where I was given the opportunity to accompany another human being and the challenges of aging, or the ministry of social justice, with an understanding that we are part of a greater community and where the caring for one another is part of practicing our faith. Still looking for other avenues of giving thanks, I started four years ago a small outreach to the unhoused here in Boulder. I am so fortunate to have by now gathered six helpers (one of whom is, like me, a regular in our Soup Kitchen), and we serve breakfast once a week at the bandshell. This avenue was opened to me too with the help of the First Congregational Church.

First Congregational Church has become to me the anchor in our world of disconnectedness. It is so vibrant with so many different ways to walk and discover avenues of seeing. The ministry of racial justice makes me see my prejudices and has given me the deeply moving experience of the pilgrimage to Selma or to the site and history of the Sand Creek Massacre. The MacKenzie lecture series has exposed me to religious writers and thoughtful exchanges in our understanding of our faith. All these activities are an expression of my faith. They allow me to live with all my uncertainties and accept that there may not be any definitive answers for me.

Whenever I travel and am away from the weekly reminder of the presence of my connection, I quickly realize how dependent I am on the church for my connection to God. It fills me with hope and the assurance that my many doubts and unanswered questions are acceptable to God, as I am surrounded by fellow travelers. First Congregational Church is an assembly of seekers and a community where I feel home.