In the Gospel for Sunday [John 20:19-31], we read that the disciples were gathered in a locked and shuttered room on the evening of the resurrection. But Thomas wasn’t with them. This isn’t the big news, though. Jesus appears to them and, in John’s Gospel, this is when they receive the Holy Spirit. And John, or later copyists, record him giving them the power to forgive—or not forgive—sin. But where was Thomas?
The women had come to them earlier that day and told them that Jesus was risen. Was Thomas with them when that happened? Had the two men who were heading toward Emmaus [see next week’s Gospel] made it back yet to Jerusalem? Is that why the disciples were gathered? But where is Thomas?
I don’t know, of course, but there is a lesson for us here. If we’re not careful, we’ll let ourselves be elsewhere when the risen Lord appears. We can be sitting in church, presumably to worship, but have our minds wander very far a field and we’ll miss Jesus when he arrives in the Word or Sacrament. We may be so busy with work that we don’t see Jesus in the blooming of the tulip poplars or azaleas. We may be so intent at home on a TV game or program that we don’t notice the risen Lord who might have joined us at the dinner table had we been there instead of eating off a TV tray.
I’d like to believe Thomas was out doing something that had ultimate significance that first day of the week. But if he’s like most of us, he wasn’t. He was tending to business. Maybe trying to figure out how to get started back up in the trade he’d abandoned to follow Jesus. Let’s give him some credit, though. Maybe he was back at the tomb trying to make sense of what happened. Wherever he was, he didn’t stay there. A week later he’s present with his friends when Jesus comes primarily to speak to him. And he’s changed. Forever.
We can come back too.
Peace,
Jerry+
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Healer? Yes
The reading from Acts for Wednesday of Easter Week [3:1-10] is about authority. Peter and John were on their way to the Temple to pray when they encountered a lame man being carried to the Temple by friends. The Beautiful Gate was a gate with a pair of 64 foot tall polished bronze doors; it was a good place to beg. And this nameless man went there to do just that.
My reaction to the man at the gate is a curious one. I know he can probably only beg. But, why, I wonder, isn’t he looking for a healer. Remember the man at the pool of Bethsaida? He went there everyday with the expectation that he could be healed. He just couldn’t get to the water soon enough when it stirred. But this man, didn’t go to the Temple gate with the expectation he’d be healed. He went to beg.
But when he begged from Peter and John, he got much more than he expected. He was healed. But, it’s not his healing I really want to focus on. I want to focus on Peter. Listen to Peter’s words: “…in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, stand up and walk.” Peter doesn’t heal on his own authority, but on authority given him by the Lord. Now here comes the scary part. At the Last Supper, after he had washed his follower’s feet, Jesus said to them, “Very truly I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works that these…” [John 14:12]
Jesus was telling them that his healing work would be continued by his friends in his physical absence. But even beyond continuing them, they would be able to do even greater things than he did. Peter believed him. Perhaps not then. In fact, Peter would show the weakness in his character by denying Jesus in Jesus’ moment of greatest need. But, on the beach a few days later, Peter and the Lord would talk and Peter would vow three times that he loves his friend and Master, just as he denied him three times. Peter believed and when he encountered the beggar, he acted on that belief.
I remember the first time this passage really hit me. I was sitting in an Episcopal Church in Rome, Georgia listening to the Rector talk about his sermon in his adult Sunday School class. He described how this passage hit him while he was preparing to preach. It was as if he had been looking in the mirror shaving every day for decades and today first noticed he was getting old. It was a shock. The scripture passage had the same effect. He’d heard it over and over, but this week it realized it meant that he, not just the Apostles, could expect to perform the works of Jesus, even greater works.
I realized that day that applied to me too. I had already been ordained, but I was working on my doctorate in Church History and supporting my family by working in architecture. I was nearing the end of my studies and the architectural firm was enticing me to stay on with them rather than head to the parish or teaching. But in that moment, I knew what I had to do.
In the years since, I have wondered if I had kept faith with the authority given me to do the things Jesus did. In my most sober and open moments, I think perhaps I brought God’s healing to couples and individuals who trusted me as their counselor. I think in my work in the parish, there have been times when something I said or did seemed to have a healing effect on someone. But, never was there a dramatic moment like Peter and the beggar had.
That same authority Peter was given and acted on was given to each of us who believe in the Lord. Like me, we may never have dramatic moments of healing someone as a part of our experience. But, we all can bring healing with our touches, our tears, our words of consolation and encouragement. We can bring healing by our loving presence. And we must. If we don’t, who will?
Peace,
Jerry+
My reaction to the man at the gate is a curious one. I know he can probably only beg. But, why, I wonder, isn’t he looking for a healer. Remember the man at the pool of Bethsaida? He went there everyday with the expectation that he could be healed. He just couldn’t get to the water soon enough when it stirred. But this man, didn’t go to the Temple gate with the expectation he’d be healed. He went to beg.
But when he begged from Peter and John, he got much more than he expected. He was healed. But, it’s not his healing I really want to focus on. I want to focus on Peter. Listen to Peter’s words: “…in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, stand up and walk.” Peter doesn’t heal on his own authority, but on authority given him by the Lord. Now here comes the scary part. At the Last Supper, after he had washed his follower’s feet, Jesus said to them, “Very truly I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works that these…” [John 14:12]
Jesus was telling them that his healing work would be continued by his friends in his physical absence. But even beyond continuing them, they would be able to do even greater things than he did. Peter believed him. Perhaps not then. In fact, Peter would show the weakness in his character by denying Jesus in Jesus’ moment of greatest need. But, on the beach a few days later, Peter and the Lord would talk and Peter would vow three times that he loves his friend and Master, just as he denied him three times. Peter believed and when he encountered the beggar, he acted on that belief.
I remember the first time this passage really hit me. I was sitting in an Episcopal Church in Rome, Georgia listening to the Rector talk about his sermon in his adult Sunday School class. He described how this passage hit him while he was preparing to preach. It was as if he had been looking in the mirror shaving every day for decades and today first noticed he was getting old. It was a shock. The scripture passage had the same effect. He’d heard it over and over, but this week it realized it meant that he, not just the Apostles, could expect to perform the works of Jesus, even greater works.
I realized that day that applied to me too. I had already been ordained, but I was working on my doctorate in Church History and supporting my family by working in architecture. I was nearing the end of my studies and the architectural firm was enticing me to stay on with them rather than head to the parish or teaching. But in that moment, I knew what I had to do.
In the years since, I have wondered if I had kept faith with the authority given me to do the things Jesus did. In my most sober and open moments, I think perhaps I brought God’s healing to couples and individuals who trusted me as their counselor. I think in my work in the parish, there have been times when something I said or did seemed to have a healing effect on someone. But, never was there a dramatic moment like Peter and the beggar had.
That same authority Peter was given and acted on was given to each of us who believe in the Lord. Like me, we may never have dramatic moments of healing someone as a part of our experience. But, we all can bring healing with our touches, our tears, our words of consolation and encouragement. We can bring healing by our loving presence. And we must. If we don’t, who will?
Peace,
Jerry+
Friday, March 21, 2008
Injustice
Not too long ago my oldest granddaughter saw a book in my bookcase with the title The Paradox of Jesus in the Gospels. She turned to me and asked, “What’s paradox mean?” I had to stop and think for a minute, because though I know what one is, I couldn’t recall the actual definition. For those like me: a paradox is a word or phrase that contradicts itself. An example is Good Friday.
When I was much younger the name Good Friday always mystified me. What could be good about the day Jesus died? And the answer is, “Well, really nothing. Except if he hadn’t died, he wouldn’t have been resurrected, and that of course, is the big thing.” “Yes, but,” I always wanted to say, “nothing can be good about dying that way. The day’s not about resurrection, it’s about dying. It should be called Black Friday or something.” Nobody listened, of course.
The truth is I don’t like the fact that Jesus died and did so in a horrible way. I have learned, at least intellectually, in fine detail the effect of being beaten with lead tipped leather thongs and the terror and pain of death on a cross. I don’t like it. Not only does the horror of it offend and disgust me, but the injustice of it adds a patina that is just more than I can take some times when I reflect on it. Given who I am and how I’m wired together, injustice is a primo hot button for me. I react very negatively when I see it happen to others and especially negatively when it is visited on me.
The most frustrating thing about injustice is that it usually arrives in the context of powerlessness. Jesus, the man, was powerless against the religious establishment and against the political establishment. His apparently stoic responses to Pilate and the religious leaders, I think, were a result of his awareness that nothing he said or did would make any difference anyway. Don’t think he could have called down angels to whisk him away. He could not have, primarily because to do so, would have undone everything he’d done up to that point. He was really powerless. And what’s good about that?
I am reminded of an interaction between me and the first Roman Catholic bishop of West Tennessee, Carroll Dozier. By an odd circumstance, he and I became very close. Once when I was visiting his home and we were having an after dinner drink, he listened patiently while I complained about a perceived injustice being visited on me by my denomination. After I wound down, he took a sip of his Marker’s Mark and water and said, “You know, they crucified Jesus. Why do you think you deserve better treatment?” Good question. Maybe if I could internalize that, I wouldn’t get so bent out of shape when new injustices are inflicted on me.
Peace,
Jerry+
When I was much younger the name Good Friday always mystified me. What could be good about the day Jesus died? And the answer is, “Well, really nothing. Except if he hadn’t died, he wouldn’t have been resurrected, and that of course, is the big thing.” “Yes, but,” I always wanted to say, “nothing can be good about dying that way. The day’s not about resurrection, it’s about dying. It should be called Black Friday or something.” Nobody listened, of course.
The truth is I don’t like the fact that Jesus died and did so in a horrible way. I have learned, at least intellectually, in fine detail the effect of being beaten with lead tipped leather thongs and the terror and pain of death on a cross. I don’t like it. Not only does the horror of it offend and disgust me, but the injustice of it adds a patina that is just more than I can take some times when I reflect on it. Given who I am and how I’m wired together, injustice is a primo hot button for me. I react very negatively when I see it happen to others and especially negatively when it is visited on me.
The most frustrating thing about injustice is that it usually arrives in the context of powerlessness. Jesus, the man, was powerless against the religious establishment and against the political establishment. His apparently stoic responses to Pilate and the religious leaders, I think, were a result of his awareness that nothing he said or did would make any difference anyway. Don’t think he could have called down angels to whisk him away. He could not have, primarily because to do so, would have undone everything he’d done up to that point. He was really powerless. And what’s good about that?
I am reminded of an interaction between me and the first Roman Catholic bishop of West Tennessee, Carroll Dozier. By an odd circumstance, he and I became very close. Once when I was visiting his home and we were having an after dinner drink, he listened patiently while I complained about a perceived injustice being visited on me by my denomination. After I wound down, he took a sip of his Marker’s Mark and water and said, “You know, they crucified Jesus. Why do you think you deserve better treatment?” Good question. Maybe if I could internalize that, I wouldn’t get so bent out of shape when new injustices are inflicted on me.
Peace,
Jerry+
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Betrayal
The betrayal of Jesus by Judas is one of the hardest events of the Easter story to understand. How could one of those in the inner circle, one who had the repeated opportunity to hear the Master, one who witnessed his goodness and grace, how could one with those experiences sell out Jesus? It’s easy to understand the religious leaders’ actions. At worse they felt threatened by this upstart who was busy making their job obsolete by dismantling the temple as the center of grace. At best they could have felt outrage at this peasant who would claim to be the Messiah and who was stirring up the people. And, it’s easy to understand Pilate whose allegiance is to Rome. He needs to keep the peace of Rome in this city to keep Rome off his back.
But one of the chosen followers? How can we make any sense of that? It’s unlikely that his actions can be explained by his need for money. He had the purse of the group already and if he wanted money, he could simply take what he wanted. And it doesn’t square with his sense of self-loathing when the consequences of his action cause Jesus’ death. One writer suggests that Judas, being the only Judean in group of Galileans may have felt marginalized and lonely, an outsider who was given short shrift in the group. Maybe.
The musical play Jesus Christ Superstar provides a different answer to which some scholars subscribe. Perhaps he believed that Jesus’ mission would ultimately fail, but only after causing suffering and death of many who would become a part of a bloody insurrection. If he could get him arrested, perhaps Jesus would just be beaten or imprisoned and lives would be saved. Jesus would come to this senses and quit this rabble rousing talk.
Another motive might be just the opposite. The arrest would force Jesus’ hand, make him show his Messianic power and the revolt could begin and when successful, Rome would be overthrown. A lot of scholars like these views. Either makes Judas a more sympathetic character. He just seems misguided rather than greedy and evil. And most recently, the Gospel of Judas seems to make Judas the hero of the story. Jesus asks him to betray him so that he might die as required for God’s plan. Very unlikely, historically speaking.
The truth is we don’t know what drove Judas to take the action he took. He didn’t write the Gospel with his name on it. So, all we ultimately know is he took an action he came so deeply to regret that he killed himself.
In some way, the need to understand Judas is perhaps driven by our need to understand ourselves. While we aren’t of the inner circle the way Judas was, surely we have had our encounter with Christ and experienced his grace as surely as Judas did. And what we know of ourselves is that we too betray Jesus. Not in the same way Judas did, but in just as real a fashion as he did.
On this same night that Judas kissed Jesus to identify him as the one who should be arrested, Jesus commanded his followers to love one another and to do so as he did. When we are honest with ourselves, we know we let far too many opportunities to do that go by. At our worst, we’re not even aware that we are making choices in which we do not love our neighbor as ourselves or when we are unwilling to touch the life of someone in need. We simply act as if we are the unredeemed; we act as if we’d never heard the command to love; we act as if we’d never heard the story of Jesus’ love for others. It’s not that we consciously choose to not love; we just act in our natural selfish way. Is that any less a betrayal than knowing how we should act and failing to do it? In either case, we must break the heart of Jesus.
In the final analysis, we either love Jesus, even with a blundering, inept love, trying our best to be as he would have us be, or we betray him. There is no in between.
Peace,
Jerry+
But one of the chosen followers? How can we make any sense of that? It’s unlikely that his actions can be explained by his need for money. He had the purse of the group already and if he wanted money, he could simply take what he wanted. And it doesn’t square with his sense of self-loathing when the consequences of his action cause Jesus’ death. One writer suggests that Judas, being the only Judean in group of Galileans may have felt marginalized and lonely, an outsider who was given short shrift in the group. Maybe.
The musical play Jesus Christ Superstar provides a different answer to which some scholars subscribe. Perhaps he believed that Jesus’ mission would ultimately fail, but only after causing suffering and death of many who would become a part of a bloody insurrection. If he could get him arrested, perhaps Jesus would just be beaten or imprisoned and lives would be saved. Jesus would come to this senses and quit this rabble rousing talk.
Another motive might be just the opposite. The arrest would force Jesus’ hand, make him show his Messianic power and the revolt could begin and when successful, Rome would be overthrown. A lot of scholars like these views. Either makes Judas a more sympathetic character. He just seems misguided rather than greedy and evil. And most recently, the Gospel of Judas seems to make Judas the hero of the story. Jesus asks him to betray him so that he might die as required for God’s plan. Very unlikely, historically speaking.
The truth is we don’t know what drove Judas to take the action he took. He didn’t write the Gospel with his name on it. So, all we ultimately know is he took an action he came so deeply to regret that he killed himself.
In some way, the need to understand Judas is perhaps driven by our need to understand ourselves. While we aren’t of the inner circle the way Judas was, surely we have had our encounter with Christ and experienced his grace as surely as Judas did. And what we know of ourselves is that we too betray Jesus. Not in the same way Judas did, but in just as real a fashion as he did.
On this same night that Judas kissed Jesus to identify him as the one who should be arrested, Jesus commanded his followers to love one another and to do so as he did. When we are honest with ourselves, we know we let far too many opportunities to do that go by. At our worst, we’re not even aware that we are making choices in which we do not love our neighbor as ourselves or when we are unwilling to touch the life of someone in need. We simply act as if we are the unredeemed; we act as if we’d never heard the command to love; we act as if we’d never heard the story of Jesus’ love for others. It’s not that we consciously choose to not love; we just act in our natural selfish way. Is that any less a betrayal than knowing how we should act and failing to do it? In either case, we must break the heart of Jesus.
In the final analysis, we either love Jesus, even with a blundering, inept love, trying our best to be as he would have us be, or we betray him. There is no in between.
Peace,
Jerry+
Monday, March 17, 2008
Acts of Kindness
The Gospel for Monday of Holy Week (John 12:1-11) is about a party at Mary, Martha, and Lazarus’ home and is the last party Jesus will attend. No one know that of course. I’m sure it was a party though, because John tells us the dinner is in Jesus’ honor. And he tells us that Lazarus is one of those at the table. Seems clear to me they are celebrating Jesus’ raising Lazarus from the dead. And what a wonderful party it must have been. I bet Mary and Martha pulled out all the stops.
Mary is so full of joy she doesn’t just wash Jesus’ feet as was the custom, she anoints his feet with a perfume made from pure nard. The 300 denarii cost that Judas complains about is a huge sum. It is a year’s pay for a typical laborer or for a Roman centurion. As John told us when he recounted the raising of Lazarus, the behind the scenes story, was that this was the event that sealed Jesus’ fate. Because so many of the locals began to believe Jesus was the Messiah after this and began to listen to him and pull away from the old ways, the rulers decided they couldn’t put up with Jesus any longer. In today’s reading John tells us that those same rulers had decided they had to put Lazarus to death as well because of the big crowd that turned out to see him at this party.
It is hard not to think of this story placed here at the beginning of Holy Week as a foreshadowing of Jesus’ death. Mary, Martha and Lazarus don’t think that, though. They are caught up in the joy of the moment. And in that joy, Mary shows her devotion and love for Jesus in a spontaneous outpouring, literally. It is a beautiful and simple act. Mary doesn’t realize as she lavishes her affection on Jesus is that in just a few days, she would also will be involved in anointing his dead body too. But it doesn’t matter.
“That Mary anointed Jesus for burial unwittingly doesn’t rob the event of its meaning. In fact, that she did so unwittingly may even deepen the significance of her act. It is God’s gift added to our simple acts that often elevates them to a place of grander purpose”[1] than we could ever imagine. Just recently I had a former therapy student of mine tell me that she still uses a long list of what I call Harber’s Dictums, such as, “You can look back. Just don’t stare.” And, “What matters is what you do next.” Little did I imagine when she first heard me use those with troubled people that she would take them up and use them to help dozens, maybe scores of people whom I would never meet.
It reminded me of a women who had once been in one of my communication skill worshops, who years later bumped into me at a wedding. She went on at some length about how what she had learned that day had turned her relationship with her children 180 degrees and that she still enjoyed a wonderful relationship with them as adults.
I tell you these things to get you thinking about simple acts of kindness you’ve engaged in during your life. You did them simply to be nice or to be helpful or loving. You may never have thought of them again, but God was able to give them significance in someone’s life beyond anything you could have imagined.
Let us all be like Mary and lavish our attention on others. Because for all we know, it may be the last nice thing done for them. And for all we know, it may be an act that is remembered and repeated for years and years as one person gives away what you gave to them.
[1] Preaching Through the Christian Year A. Craddock, et. al. p.194.
Mary is so full of joy she doesn’t just wash Jesus’ feet as was the custom, she anoints his feet with a perfume made from pure nard. The 300 denarii cost that Judas complains about is a huge sum. It is a year’s pay for a typical laborer or for a Roman centurion. As John told us when he recounted the raising of Lazarus, the behind the scenes story, was that this was the event that sealed Jesus’ fate. Because so many of the locals began to believe Jesus was the Messiah after this and began to listen to him and pull away from the old ways, the rulers decided they couldn’t put up with Jesus any longer. In today’s reading John tells us that those same rulers had decided they had to put Lazarus to death as well because of the big crowd that turned out to see him at this party.
It is hard not to think of this story placed here at the beginning of Holy Week as a foreshadowing of Jesus’ death. Mary, Martha and Lazarus don’t think that, though. They are caught up in the joy of the moment. And in that joy, Mary shows her devotion and love for Jesus in a spontaneous outpouring, literally. It is a beautiful and simple act. Mary doesn’t realize as she lavishes her affection on Jesus is that in just a few days, she would also will be involved in anointing his dead body too. But it doesn’t matter.
“That Mary anointed Jesus for burial unwittingly doesn’t rob the event of its meaning. In fact, that she did so unwittingly may even deepen the significance of her act. It is God’s gift added to our simple acts that often elevates them to a place of grander purpose”[1] than we could ever imagine. Just recently I had a former therapy student of mine tell me that she still uses a long list of what I call Harber’s Dictums, such as, “You can look back. Just don’t stare.” And, “What matters is what you do next.” Little did I imagine when she first heard me use those with troubled people that she would take them up and use them to help dozens, maybe scores of people whom I would never meet.
It reminded me of a women who had once been in one of my communication skill worshops, who years later bumped into me at a wedding. She went on at some length about how what she had learned that day had turned her relationship with her children 180 degrees and that she still enjoyed a wonderful relationship with them as adults.
I tell you these things to get you thinking about simple acts of kindness you’ve engaged in during your life. You did them simply to be nice or to be helpful or loving. You may never have thought of them again, but God was able to give them significance in someone’s life beyond anything you could have imagined.
Let us all be like Mary and lavish our attention on others. Because for all we know, it may be the last nice thing done for them. And for all we know, it may be an act that is remembered and repeated for years and years as one person gives away what you gave to them.
[1] Preaching Through the Christian Year A. Craddock, et. al. p.194.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Holy Week?
Sunday the 16th of March is Palm Sunday or The Sunday of the Passion. Whatever you may call it, it begins Holy Week. This week, which commemorates the last week of Jesus’ life, is one of the holiest times in the life of the Church and in the lives of individual Christians. During this week, daily Eucharists are built around events of the week. Thursday evening, Maundy Thursday, is the commemoration of the of the establishment of the Last Supper. But the word Maundy is from the Latin for commandment, for it is at this Supper that Jesus says, “A new commandment I give to you that you love one another as I have loved you.” Some parishes also include a rite of foot-washing, remembering how Jesus washed his disciples’ feet on this same night.
This service typically ends with the chancel area and altar stripped of all adornment and the altar cleaned and anointed with oil. While a little out of sequence, this represents the preparation of Jesus’ body as he’s placed in the tomb. The next day, Good Friday, so called because of the good things that came from his death, we remember Jesus’ crucifixion and death. Then Saturday evening, after sunset, the first feast of Easter, the Easter Vigil is celebrated, usually with baptisms—the making of new Christians.
Christians are an Easter people. Our focus, especially in the Protestant wing of Christianity, is on resurrection—which is why our crosses tend to be empty. I would love to tell you that the services of the week will be well attended, but typically only Easter Day will be. Is this because we have become a culture who just wants to “cut to the chase?” Let’s just celebrate the big day and forego the run-up. Is it because it’s just asking to much for busy people to come to church multiple times a week? Maybe it’s because none of this is very real to us because worship is more a cultural phenomenon than a source of focus and renewal? I don’t know.
I do think it’s something to think about.
Peace, and Happy Easter!
Jerry+
This service typically ends with the chancel area and altar stripped of all adornment and the altar cleaned and anointed with oil. While a little out of sequence, this represents the preparation of Jesus’ body as he’s placed in the tomb. The next day, Good Friday, so called because of the good things that came from his death, we remember Jesus’ crucifixion and death. Then Saturday evening, after sunset, the first feast of Easter, the Easter Vigil is celebrated, usually with baptisms—the making of new Christians.
Christians are an Easter people. Our focus, especially in the Protestant wing of Christianity, is on resurrection—which is why our crosses tend to be empty. I would love to tell you that the services of the week will be well attended, but typically only Easter Day will be. Is this because we have become a culture who just wants to “cut to the chase?” Let’s just celebrate the big day and forego the run-up. Is it because it’s just asking to much for busy people to come to church multiple times a week? Maybe it’s because none of this is very real to us because worship is more a cultural phenomenon than a source of focus and renewal? I don’t know.
I do think it’s something to think about.
Peace, and Happy Easter!
Jerry+
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Flawed Instruments
I had a strange experience Sunday. I preached for one of the last times at the parish when I’ve been for twenty plus years. But that wasn’t what was strange. It was the reaction I got that day and in the several days since.
Usually sermons come pretty easily for me. I read the texts and a few commentaries and then—bang— a place to start or a central theme pops into my head. (I like to think this is the Spirit’s leading, but who can be sure?) Then I start writing and rewriting. I’ll let a draft sit for a few days and pick it up again a couple of times and it all comes together. But now and then, and this sermon was one of those times, I struggle. This time I struggled a lot with the end of the sermon. It just wouldn’t come together. Finally, I had to quit writing and just go with what I had developed. I would say something like this to myself at times like this, “Well, that’s about a B, maybe a B+, but it’s all I’ve got. Can’t hit a home run every time.” Sometimes I even mention to my wife that the sermon just doesn’t feel like my best work.
And that’s how I felt as I climbed into the pulpit Sunday.
But when the service was over and I was greeting people, I heard over and over how meaningful it was. “Jerry, that may have been your best sermon.” “You know, I think that may have been the best I’ve heard you preach.” “That was so meaningful; so helpful.” I was shocked; humbled; perplexed—and pleased, too.
How did that happen? I don’t know. But what I’m left believing is that God isn’t bound by what or how we do things. A phrase popped into my head the other day about myself. I was asking myself what, as my ordained ministry comes to an end and especially as these last difficult years at this parish end, had I learned. The thought (that has found it’s way into the last sermon I will preach here in a couple of weeks) is this: I have learned that even a flawed instrument can play beautiful music in the hands of a master. I think God isn’t bound by my character or my sermonic attempts, flawed as I am. God can touch lives with whatever God chooses to touch lives with. And does. Sunday was my final proof.
So, take heart.
Peace
Jerry+
Usually sermons come pretty easily for me. I read the texts and a few commentaries and then—bang— a place to start or a central theme pops into my head. (I like to think this is the Spirit’s leading, but who can be sure?) Then I start writing and rewriting. I’ll let a draft sit for a few days and pick it up again a couple of times and it all comes together. But now and then, and this sermon was one of those times, I struggle. This time I struggled a lot with the end of the sermon. It just wouldn’t come together. Finally, I had to quit writing and just go with what I had developed. I would say something like this to myself at times like this, “Well, that’s about a B, maybe a B+, but it’s all I’ve got. Can’t hit a home run every time.” Sometimes I even mention to my wife that the sermon just doesn’t feel like my best work.
And that’s how I felt as I climbed into the pulpit Sunday.
But when the service was over and I was greeting people, I heard over and over how meaningful it was. “Jerry, that may have been your best sermon.” “You know, I think that may have been the best I’ve heard you preach.” “That was so meaningful; so helpful.” I was shocked; humbled; perplexed—and pleased, too.
How did that happen? I don’t know. But what I’m left believing is that God isn’t bound by what or how we do things. A phrase popped into my head the other day about myself. I was asking myself what, as my ordained ministry comes to an end and especially as these last difficult years at this parish end, had I learned. The thought (that has found it’s way into the last sermon I will preach here in a couple of weeks) is this: I have learned that even a flawed instrument can play beautiful music in the hands of a master. I think God isn’t bound by my character or my sermonic attempts, flawed as I am. God can touch lives with whatever God chooses to touch lives with. And does. Sunday was my final proof.
So, take heart.
Peace
Jerry+
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Leadership
Earlier this week I led the first day of a two day workshop on leadership. The second day is a month from now after they’ve tried to practice what I taught. The particular model I spent most of the time presenting is called Situational Leadership© . Part of the theory behind SL© is that,
-people want to give their best
-people want to learn and grow
-people want their work to be meaningful
Those of you who read the news or watch TV news may want to take exception to this very lofty view of human nature. Or if you have much workplace experience, you may not be so sure this applies.
I’d like to offer a different view. First, news is almost exclusively focused on the sensational and the seamy. So you aren’t going to see many stories about the ordinary joe or jane who is, in fact, described by these three beliefs. Second, the problem in the workplace may not be joe or jane. SL© says it is likely to be the leader who fails to believe these three truths and, therefore, fails to treat joe or jane as if they are true. SL© teaches that the effective leader of people begins by caring enough about them to see them as human beings who have varying levels of skill and readiness for specific tasks, but who can be directed, coached and guided into high levels of self directed performance that creates value for the organization and meaning for the person.
As I explained how the effective leader adapts his/her leadership style to the person being led, situation by situation, I also taught what and in what manner the effective leader talks to joe and jane. As I modeled some of these, I would role play the more coercive and angry ways leaders often talk to followers and then say, “But because I don’t like to be spoken to that way myself, that’s not how I’d do it.” Then I would model the more relationship developing way I would do it. “See,” I’d say, “The rule is pretty simple. If you don’t like to be dealt with in a particular way, you can’t deal with others that way.”
“Perfect sense,” they’d say. “Yeah, I hate being chewed out.” “You actually said the same thing the second time, but it was so much ‘nicer’”, they’d say. Yeah. So much more humane. Or if you’re a spiritual person, you might say, “It’s much more loving.” But, hey, we all know we can’t be loving in the workplace. Heck, people will think we’re softies and run all over us. Right?
Peace,
Jerry+
-people want to give their best
-people want to learn and grow
-people want their work to be meaningful
Those of you who read the news or watch TV news may want to take exception to this very lofty view of human nature. Or if you have much workplace experience, you may not be so sure this applies.
I’d like to offer a different view. First, news is almost exclusively focused on the sensational and the seamy. So you aren’t going to see many stories about the ordinary joe or jane who is, in fact, described by these three beliefs. Second, the problem in the workplace may not be joe or jane. SL© says it is likely to be the leader who fails to believe these three truths and, therefore, fails to treat joe or jane as if they are true. SL© teaches that the effective leader of people begins by caring enough about them to see them as human beings who have varying levels of skill and readiness for specific tasks, but who can be directed, coached and guided into high levels of self directed performance that creates value for the organization and meaning for the person.
As I explained how the effective leader adapts his/her leadership style to the person being led, situation by situation, I also taught what and in what manner the effective leader talks to joe and jane. As I modeled some of these, I would role play the more coercive and angry ways leaders often talk to followers and then say, “But because I don’t like to be spoken to that way myself, that’s not how I’d do it.” Then I would model the more relationship developing way I would do it. “See,” I’d say, “The rule is pretty simple. If you don’t like to be dealt with in a particular way, you can’t deal with others that way.”
“Perfect sense,” they’d say. “Yeah, I hate being chewed out.” “You actually said the same thing the second time, but it was so much ‘nicer’”, they’d say. Yeah. So much more humane. Or if you’re a spiritual person, you might say, “It’s much more loving.” But, hey, we all know we can’t be loving in the workplace. Heck, people will think we’re softies and run all over us. Right?
Peace,
Jerry+
Blindness
Sunday’s Gospel reading was about the man born blind that Jesus healed with dirt and spit. Let’s zero in on one piece of the reading though—the piece about blame.
It begins with Jesus’ followers wanting to know who sinned, the man or his parents, that he was born blind. It’s followed by the religious leaders dismissing Jesus as a sinner because he performs the healing on the Sabbath, a clear violating of the no work on the Sabbath rule. Then the parents are accused of lying about his blindness, and what do they do, they say “Ask him. He’s an adult.” (Not exactly blame, but shifting some responsibility. They didn’t want to anger the religious leaders so it was best not to answer.)
Ever since Adam said, “It wasn’t me; it was that woman you (emphasis mine) gave me,” people habitually have been looking for some way to make somebody else responsible for actions. When I did couple counseling for a living, almost without exception, the couple each wanted to blame their partner for everything that was wrong. Oh, I might hear somebody start by saying, “I know I’m not perfect.” But there was always a “but…” Sometimes I would interrupt and ask, “if you’re not perfect, how are you contributing?” You’ve never seen such sputtering and back-peddling! The last few years of my couple work, after listening to each partner tell me what was wrong with the other, I’d sum up what I’d heard each say, get their buy-in to that, and then say, “Well, the reality seems to be nobody is righteous.”
This was an awkward moment. When you’re confronted with your own behavior by a third party who has no dog in the fight, it’s hard to keep maintaining your innocence. But people would, of course. And until that battle is won, until each is willing to honestly own up to how far short they fall from being a good mate to the other, we didn’t accomplish much.
Our work is cut out for us. Oh, not to help other people see, but to start seeing ourselves. Only then can we begin to move toward the Christ-like life to which we’ve been called.
Peace,
Jerry+
It begins with Jesus’ followers wanting to know who sinned, the man or his parents, that he was born blind. It’s followed by the religious leaders dismissing Jesus as a sinner because he performs the healing on the Sabbath, a clear violating of the no work on the Sabbath rule. Then the parents are accused of lying about his blindness, and what do they do, they say “Ask him. He’s an adult.” (Not exactly blame, but shifting some responsibility. They didn’t want to anger the religious leaders so it was best not to answer.)
Ever since Adam said, “It wasn’t me; it was that woman you (emphasis mine) gave me,” people habitually have been looking for some way to make somebody else responsible for actions. When I did couple counseling for a living, almost without exception, the couple each wanted to blame their partner for everything that was wrong. Oh, I might hear somebody start by saying, “I know I’m not perfect.” But there was always a “but…” Sometimes I would interrupt and ask, “if you’re not perfect, how are you contributing?” You’ve never seen such sputtering and back-peddling! The last few years of my couple work, after listening to each partner tell me what was wrong with the other, I’d sum up what I’d heard each say, get their buy-in to that, and then say, “Well, the reality seems to be nobody is righteous.”
This was an awkward moment. When you’re confronted with your own behavior by a third party who has no dog in the fight, it’s hard to keep maintaining your innocence. But people would, of course. And until that battle is won, until each is willing to honestly own up to how far short they fall from being a good mate to the other, we didn’t accomplish much.
Our work is cut out for us. Oh, not to help other people see, but to start seeing ourselves. Only then can we begin to move toward the Christ-like life to which we’ve been called.
Peace,
Jerry+
Sunday, March 2, 2008
What's Wrong Redux
A few days after my last post, I’m again listening to the radio. The DJs are talking about the proper amount to tip various people. Then they open the phone lines and they receive a call. The caller reports she has hired a balloon and spin art person to go to her son’s kindergarten class for her son’s birthday. The cost is $125 per hour with an hour minimum. She goes on to say the teacher will only let the person stay for half and hour. Her question is: should she still tip since he’s working only half an hour and being paid for an hour?
My question is: what in the world is she thinking? She’s spending $125 to entertain kindergartners! Kindergartners! And my second question is: why does she have to call a DJ to find out whether or not to tip? And I’d be willing to bet this is not the “official” birthday party. God only knows how much she’ll pony up for that.
I hate to be ranting here, but how did our priorities get so out of whack? If this little kid gets this kind of treatment at 4 or 5, what will he/she expect at 10 or 15? No wonder we have a generation of people with such a misplaced sense of entitlement. And now they are doing it to their kids.
I’m all for letting kids enjoy life. But I think maybe $25 might have accomplished the same thing and the $100 difference could have been given to the Food Bank to provide 50 meals for people in real need. I’m aware I waste money, too. And that I could do a better job of sharing what I have with others. But somewhere, somebody has got to say something and do something about the way we are treating our kids.
Peace
Jerry+
My question is: what in the world is she thinking? She’s spending $125 to entertain kindergartners! Kindergartners! And my second question is: why does she have to call a DJ to find out whether or not to tip? And I’d be willing to bet this is not the “official” birthday party. God only knows how much she’ll pony up for that.
I hate to be ranting here, but how did our priorities get so out of whack? If this little kid gets this kind of treatment at 4 or 5, what will he/she expect at 10 or 15? No wonder we have a generation of people with such a misplaced sense of entitlement. And now they are doing it to their kids.
I’m all for letting kids enjoy life. But I think maybe $25 might have accomplished the same thing and the $100 difference could have been given to the Food Bank to provide 50 meals for people in real need. I’m aware I waste money, too. And that I could do a better job of sharing what I have with others. But somewhere, somebody has got to say something and do something about the way we are treating our kids.
Peace
Jerry+
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