In an old Calvin and Hobbes comic strip, the two have the following conversation. Calvin says to Hobbes: "Live for the moment is my motto. You never know how long you've got." He goes on to explain: "You could step into the road tomorrow and WHAM, you get hit by a cement truck! Then you'd be sorry you put off your pleasures. That's what I say, live for the moment." Then he asks Hobbes, "What's your motto?" Hobbes replies: "My motto is look down the road."
In looking down the road in 2010, I don't see myself continuing this blog. I'm pretty sure those who encouraged me in the beginning have moved on to other things. Plus, I'd hoped for comments and dialogue which haven't happened. So, I think it's time to pull the plug.
I very much needed to do this right after I retired and I'm glad I did it. It was rarely a chore and often fun. Thanks to those who encouraged me and read my musings. If you think plug pulling is not in order, you can email me at jerry.harber@gmail.com and we'll see. Otherwise: it's been fun.
Peace,
Jerry+
Monday, November 30, 2009
Monday, November 9, 2009
Life and Death
Yesterday, my wife's family made the decision to remove her dad from a ventilator. He's been declining since having broken his hip. For weeks, he's been on oxygen and the last several days on the vent. When we got to the hospital yesterday after church, his doctor told us he doubted Charles, 87, would last through the night. The family decided to not keep him alive artificially.
We'd agreed that everybody could be at the hospital by 4:00--many live in Arkansas--and that would be our target time. It actually ended up being 4:30 when we all left the room and the staff began disconnecting him from his various tubes and removed the vent tube. Within five minutes, we were all back, not knowing if Charles would last a few minutes, a few hours, or even a day or more.
For the first time in over two weeks, he was able to open his eyes. He couldn't speak, but I could see him looking deeply into the eyes of his wife of over 60 years . He stared for what seemed to be five minutes as if he was aware she was there looking back. It was a beautiful moment. Then his gaze drifted and his eyes closed. We watched the monitor that showed his respiration rate, his heart rate and his oxygen level in his blood. They all began a slow descent. At 5:15, they showed zero and nothing but flat lines appeared on the monitor. Charles was gone. His last moments had been peaceful as we had prayed they would be.
Slowly we drifted from his bedside and prepared to leave the hospital for the last time. As we gathered in the lobby later, someone said, "I'm hungry. Let's all go somewhere." So three generations of survivors headed out in search of food. Half an hour later, we were sitting together at a long table at a local restaurant. The conversation was light-hearted for the most part. There is no weeping. No reminiscing. Just banter as we ate so we could go on living.
I have experienced the death of my grandfather, my father, my mother and both my two brothers. One of my brothers died in his home, to be discovered later. But, my grandfather died in our home. My father, mother and older brother in hospitals. Watching Charles decline over the past several weeks has brought back a lot of memories. I watched my grandfather, my parents and my brother, decline with death approaching and inevitable. All those memories were stirred up. My sympathy for my wife and her family, my sadness at Charles' passing, were all bound up in my own reexperienced pain.
At my age, the death of others close to you offers an opportunity to project into the future, too. I know that the day will come, probably within in the next 20 years, when my family will be gathered at my bedside, perhaps making hard decisions. I don't mean to sound morbid about it, but I am very aware today of my mortality.
Still, life goes on. We will experience the pain of the funeral and burial later this week, but in the meantime and afterwards, life will go on. We all have to make the most of it. That's what I've been thinking.
Peace,
Jerry+
We'd agreed that everybody could be at the hospital by 4:00--many live in Arkansas--and that would be our target time. It actually ended up being 4:30 when we all left the room and the staff began disconnecting him from his various tubes and removed the vent tube. Within five minutes, we were all back, not knowing if Charles would last a few minutes, a few hours, or even a day or more.
For the first time in over two weeks, he was able to open his eyes. He couldn't speak, but I could see him looking deeply into the eyes of his wife of over 60 years . He stared for what seemed to be five minutes as if he was aware she was there looking back. It was a beautiful moment. Then his gaze drifted and his eyes closed. We watched the monitor that showed his respiration rate, his heart rate and his oxygen level in his blood. They all began a slow descent. At 5:15, they showed zero and nothing but flat lines appeared on the monitor. Charles was gone. His last moments had been peaceful as we had prayed they would be.
Slowly we drifted from his bedside and prepared to leave the hospital for the last time. As we gathered in the lobby later, someone said, "I'm hungry. Let's all go somewhere." So three generations of survivors headed out in search of food. Half an hour later, we were sitting together at a long table at a local restaurant. The conversation was light-hearted for the most part. There is no weeping. No reminiscing. Just banter as we ate so we could go on living.
I have experienced the death of my grandfather, my father, my mother and both my two brothers. One of my brothers died in his home, to be discovered later. But, my grandfather died in our home. My father, mother and older brother in hospitals. Watching Charles decline over the past several weeks has brought back a lot of memories. I watched my grandfather, my parents and my brother, decline with death approaching and inevitable. All those memories were stirred up. My sympathy for my wife and her family, my sadness at Charles' passing, were all bound up in my own reexperienced pain.
At my age, the death of others close to you offers an opportunity to project into the future, too. I know that the day will come, probably within in the next 20 years, when my family will be gathered at my bedside, perhaps making hard decisions. I don't mean to sound morbid about it, but I am very aware today of my mortality.
Still, life goes on. We will experience the pain of the funeral and burial later this week, but in the meantime and afterwards, life will go on. We all have to make the most of it. That's what I've been thinking.
Peace,
Jerry+
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
All Saints
This past Sunday was All Saints Day. The day entered the Christian calendar in an odd fashion. Beginning with the persecutions in the early centuries of the Church, many who were killed for their faith were dubbed "saints." In the beginning, local communities might begin to venerate a local saint. They might also build a church on or near the site of his/her martyrdom or obtain a relic belonging to the saint for an existing church. These individual saints might well be recognized nowhere but in their original community.
As Christianity grew and the need for more order and organization was felt, many of these local saints were accepted by the whole Church as someone who represented the best of the faith. A day was set aside to remember them with a feast and a special Eucharist. Soon, the calendar began to fill with saints and by the 1500s there were as many as 70 or 80 feast days a year! (That's about one a week, which could really cut into production since feast days were holidays. How this got dealt with is another story though.)
Even so, religious leaders began to be concerned about saints who might never have been recognized for various reasons. To remedy the situation, a day was set aside to remember all the rest of the saint, especially those without a "day", and that day of recognition became All Saints Day.
Human beings being what they are, some were perplexed that not everyone was being prayed for who had died, so the day after All Saints Day was designated All Soul's Day so the Church could pray for all souls who had died in the faith, no matter what the circumstances. Most churches just do this remembering on All Saints Day and don't celebrate All Soul's Day. Thinking, I suppose, "enough is enough."
Like all good things, it's easy to let this good thing of remembering take on a life of its own. Or worse, just ignore the "saints." Even taking into account the exaggerated "lives" of some of the saints, especially the earlier ones, we would do well to learn from them and the sacrifices many of them made. A study of the lives of saints, once a very popular devotion, might be helpful again. At least, that's what I've been thinking. What about you?
Peace,
Jerry+
As Christianity grew and the need for more order and organization was felt, many of these local saints were accepted by the whole Church as someone who represented the best of the faith. A day was set aside to remember them with a feast and a special Eucharist. Soon, the calendar began to fill with saints and by the 1500s there were as many as 70 or 80 feast days a year! (That's about one a week, which could really cut into production since feast days were holidays. How this got dealt with is another story though.)
Even so, religious leaders began to be concerned about saints who might never have been recognized for various reasons. To remedy the situation, a day was set aside to remember all the rest of the saint, especially those without a "day", and that day of recognition became All Saints Day.
Human beings being what they are, some were perplexed that not everyone was being prayed for who had died, so the day after All Saints Day was designated All Soul's Day so the Church could pray for all souls who had died in the faith, no matter what the circumstances. Most churches just do this remembering on All Saints Day and don't celebrate All Soul's Day. Thinking, I suppose, "enough is enough."
Like all good things, it's easy to let this good thing of remembering take on a life of its own. Or worse, just ignore the "saints." Even taking into account the exaggerated "lives" of some of the saints, especially the earlier ones, we would do well to learn from them and the sacrifices many of them made. A study of the lives of saints, once a very popular devotion, might be helpful again. At least, that's what I've been thinking. What about you?
Peace,
Jerry+
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Solving Problems
Back in 1978, I was assigned to a small parish in Memphis. Like all United Methodists, I arrived in the summer. Toward the end of the summer I was asked if we were going to resume Sunday evening worship services when fall arrived. Since it was the first I'd heard about it, I needed more info.
I learned that the service was about two years old and typically broke for the summer months. Attendance was maybe 20 people as compared to perhaps 150 on Sunday morning. Plus, these 20 would almost always have been present at the morning service. My initial reaction wasn't very positive since it seemed to me it was a lot of expense for little return--to put it in business terms. After all, it meant paying utilities to open the building again, paying the organist for a second service, and the extra time for me to prepare a second service with sermon. I kept that thought to myself and instead asked this question: What need are we trying to meet by adding a second service?
One of the things I experienced over and over in couple counseling and in business consulting is an interesting phenomenon. People often "prescribe" before they "diagnose," that is, without fully understanding the nature of a given problem, people launch into a solution. One school of therapy even posits that when couples do that, the problem they come to see the therapist about is the solution they had imposed on themselves. The therapist is advised to "get them to stop doing that" in the hope they will stumble upon a more effective solution.
An example in couple therapy which I encountered frequently was lots of arguments between spouses, often very heated. I might ask a husband or wife, "what do you hope to accomplish by yelling at your spouse?" The answer isn't as straightforward as you might expect. It typically took some probing and in almost every case, the goal was to "get my spouse to love me." Needless to say, the solution of yelling wasn't accomplishing that.
With that in mind, I asked my parishioners this question: "what are the reasons behind adding a second worship service?" When all was said and done, this was the answer: "some of us don't thing we're getting enough out of the morning service." I asked, "Will doing more of the same solve the problem? After all, attendance is pretty low at the second service."
I suggested there might be two alternatives open to us. One would be to reexamine the morning service and see if there were some way to have it meet the still unspecified need. Another would be to offer a series of small classes on Sunday night all about Christian living. We opted for the second solution.
For our first series we had three small groups; one led by me and two led by visiting leaders. Our average attendance over the six weeks of the experiment was 70. I'd say we had found a solution to whatever was missing on Sunday morning.
The question: "What problem am I trying to solve?" is a very important one. And typically it requires some "onion peeling," that is, some investigation that probes the easy answers. My experience tells me it almost always pays off. I've been thinking about this when I see institutions at work. Quick answers, such as, "more cops on the streets," or "a second worship service," probably aren't going to make any real difference. But quick answers are tantalizing because they give us quick relief. But quick relief rarely solves underlying problems or addresses underlying needs.
Peace,
Jerry+
I learned that the service was about two years old and typically broke for the summer months. Attendance was maybe 20 people as compared to perhaps 150 on Sunday morning. Plus, these 20 would almost always have been present at the morning service. My initial reaction wasn't very positive since it seemed to me it was a lot of expense for little return--to put it in business terms. After all, it meant paying utilities to open the building again, paying the organist for a second service, and the extra time for me to prepare a second service with sermon. I kept that thought to myself and instead asked this question: What need are we trying to meet by adding a second service?
One of the things I experienced over and over in couple counseling and in business consulting is an interesting phenomenon. People often "prescribe" before they "diagnose," that is, without fully understanding the nature of a given problem, people launch into a solution. One school of therapy even posits that when couples do that, the problem they come to see the therapist about is the solution they had imposed on themselves. The therapist is advised to "get them to stop doing that" in the hope they will stumble upon a more effective solution.
An example in couple therapy which I encountered frequently was lots of arguments between spouses, often very heated. I might ask a husband or wife, "what do you hope to accomplish by yelling at your spouse?" The answer isn't as straightforward as you might expect. It typically took some probing and in almost every case, the goal was to "get my spouse to love me." Needless to say, the solution of yelling wasn't accomplishing that.
With that in mind, I asked my parishioners this question: "what are the reasons behind adding a second worship service?" When all was said and done, this was the answer: "some of us don't thing we're getting enough out of the morning service." I asked, "Will doing more of the same solve the problem? After all, attendance is pretty low at the second service."
I suggested there might be two alternatives open to us. One would be to reexamine the morning service and see if there were some way to have it meet the still unspecified need. Another would be to offer a series of small classes on Sunday night all about Christian living. We opted for the second solution.
For our first series we had three small groups; one led by me and two led by visiting leaders. Our average attendance over the six weeks of the experiment was 70. I'd say we had found a solution to whatever was missing on Sunday morning.
The question: "What problem am I trying to solve?" is a very important one. And typically it requires some "onion peeling," that is, some investigation that probes the easy answers. My experience tells me it almost always pays off. I've been thinking about this when I see institutions at work. Quick answers, such as, "more cops on the streets," or "a second worship service," probably aren't going to make any real difference. But quick answers are tantalizing because they give us quick relief. But quick relief rarely solves underlying problems or addresses underlying needs.
Peace,
Jerry+
Monday, October 19, 2009
Puritanism--Again
CANTON, N.C. (October 13, 2009)—The Amazing Grace Baptist Church in Canton, N.C. will celebrate Halloween by burning Bibles that aren’t the King James Version, as well as music and books and anything else Pastor Marc Grizzard says is a satanic influence.
Among the authors whose books Grizzard plans to burn are well known ministers Rick Warren and Billy Graham because he says they have occasionally used Bibles other than the King James Version, which is the sole biblical source he considers infallible.
According to the church’s Web site, members will also burn “Satan's music such as country, rap, rock, pop, heavy metal, western, soft and easy, southern gospel, contemporary Christian, jazz, soul (and) oldies.
This except came from the Salt Lake City newspaper which quoted the AP as its source along with the church's website. USA Today also reported that this church is, in fact, conducting the bonfire.
The Church's website is now shut down. When I tried to access it, I got a malware intrusion attempt, for what that is worth. However, this story showed up on other news sites too, so I think it's trustworthy.
Sad.
Peace,
Jerry+
Among the authors whose books Grizzard plans to burn are well known ministers Rick Warren and Billy Graham because he says they have occasionally used Bibles other than the King James Version, which is the sole biblical source he considers infallible.
According to the church’s Web site, members will also burn “Satan's music such as country, rap, rock, pop, heavy metal, western, soft and easy, southern gospel, contemporary Christian, jazz, soul (and) oldies.
This except came from the Salt Lake City newspaper which quoted the AP as its source along with the church's website. USA Today also reported that this church is, in fact, conducting the bonfire.
The Church's website is now shut down. When I tried to access it, I got a malware intrusion attempt, for what that is worth. However, this story showed up on other news sites too, so I think it's trustworthy.
Sad.
Peace,
Jerry+
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
William Tyndale
Yesterday was the feast day of William Tyndale, an Anglican priest, born in 1495. He's noteworthy for two reasons. First, soon after become a priest in 1521, he became obsessed with the notion of translating the Bible into English. This was not a popular idea. Christians were not allowed to read the Bible in any language other than Latin. Which, of course, meant most didn't read it at all. The typical parish church didn't possess a Bible in any language, and in those that did, any reading of it publicly was in Latin.
Tyndale strongly believed everyone had the right to read it and in an argument with another priest who opposed him, he said, "If God spare my life, ere many years I will cause a boy that driveth the plow to know more of the Scriptures than thou dost." Earlier Wycliff had produced a handwritten translation based on the Latin Vulgate, but Tyndale worked from the much superior Greek and Hebrew manuscripts to produced his. His New Testament was printed in Germany where he was in exile, and was smuggled into England where it was received with great enthusiasm.
Tyndale's translation introduced new words and phrases into the English language which were subsequently used in the King James Version and continue to be used today. Examples include, Jehovah, Passover, scapegoat, and phrases such as "let there be light," "The powers that be," "My brother's keeper," "the salt of the earth," "The spirit is willing," and "Fight the good fight."
Tyndale was also a vocal critic of the Catholic Church. While he was distressed over many of the typical abuses of his time, he also taught, wrote about, and preached about a new concept: salvation as a gift of God. Much as Luther was also teaching, Tyndale asserted that no good works on a human's part would gain a person salvation. Salvation came by grace. It was this teaching that eventually resulted in his death.
While living in Belgium and working on his Old Testament translation, he was betrayed to the authorities by a person he had befriended. He was arrested, tried for heresy, and sentenced to die by fire. At his execution, in an act of mercy the executioner strangled him prior to lighting the fire. But Tyndale revived long enough to say, "May God change the King's heart."
Two years later, Henry VIII did have a change of heart. Mile Coverdale took Tyndale's work and did some revisions. The resulting Bible was published under someone else's name and it was ordered by the King that every parish church have a copy. On the first day a copy was available in England, people took turns reading it aloud all day long to hungry souls. As a result of Tyndale's dedication and persistence, our religious lives have forever been enriched.
Peace,
Jerry+
Tyndale strongly believed everyone had the right to read it and in an argument with another priest who opposed him, he said, "If God spare my life, ere many years I will cause a boy that driveth the plow to know more of the Scriptures than thou dost." Earlier Wycliff had produced a handwritten translation based on the Latin Vulgate, but Tyndale worked from the much superior Greek and Hebrew manuscripts to produced his. His New Testament was printed in Germany where he was in exile, and was smuggled into England where it was received with great enthusiasm.
Tyndale's translation introduced new words and phrases into the English language which were subsequently used in the King James Version and continue to be used today. Examples include, Jehovah, Passover, scapegoat, and phrases such as "let there be light," "The powers that be," "My brother's keeper," "the salt of the earth," "The spirit is willing," and "Fight the good fight."
Tyndale was also a vocal critic of the Catholic Church. While he was distressed over many of the typical abuses of his time, he also taught, wrote about, and preached about a new concept: salvation as a gift of God. Much as Luther was also teaching, Tyndale asserted that no good works on a human's part would gain a person salvation. Salvation came by grace. It was this teaching that eventually resulted in his death.
While living in Belgium and working on his Old Testament translation, he was betrayed to the authorities by a person he had befriended. He was arrested, tried for heresy, and sentenced to die by fire. At his execution, in an act of mercy the executioner strangled him prior to lighting the fire. But Tyndale revived long enough to say, "May God change the King's heart."
Two years later, Henry VIII did have a change of heart. Mile Coverdale took Tyndale's work and did some revisions. The resulting Bible was published under someone else's name and it was ordered by the King that every parish church have a copy. On the first day a copy was available in England, people took turns reading it aloud all day long to hungry souls. As a result of Tyndale's dedication and persistence, our religious lives have forever been enriched.
Peace,
Jerry+
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Spice of Life
Variety, they say, is the spice of life.
When I began teaching my current class on The Early Church, I asked each participant his/her reason for taking the course. Prominent among the answers was a desire to know about the way in which early Christians thought, lived and worshipped. At least one student said he and a friend felt called to establish a Christian mission that was modelled after the New Testament Christian community. He hoped to discover in this class what that should be.
I understand the interest in knowing what the Church was like in the beginning. Worship is more meaningful to me when I'm reminded that some of the prayers we pray, many of the words of the Eucharist, and more have centuries of history behind them. The very form of the worship service and the form of the Eucharistic Prayer date from the first century. This is an important emotional connection for me.
As an amateur historian, I'm taken by how many times in the 2000 year history of the Church, various Christians have been on the quest the young man mentioned above is on. In the U.S. in particular, a "return" to the purity of the early Church has shaped many denominations and even created a few.
The bad news is: there is no single "early Church." There was a variety of organizational models, (that is, who was to lead the assembly?), a variety of forms for baptism, for the Eucharist, for belief systems and on and on. Just on the matter of what was used in the Eucharist, some used bread and wine, some bread, wine, water, some bread and fish, some bread, wine and olives, and some bread, wine, water, and milk and honey. Some early communities were led by the householder who hosted the gathering--meaning some women presided at the Eucharist. Some were led by a council of elders; some a council with a senior elder as overseer or president; some by those who had some charism, such as prophecy or healing.
In short, variety seemed to have been the order of the day for a couple of centuries. And you know what, each community's individual members seemed to have been nurtured, some fed well enough they were willing to die for the faith. So, what I've been thinking about is: what does that say about today's variety of beliefs and practices? I know what I've concluded. What about you?
Peace,
Jerry+
When I began teaching my current class on The Early Church, I asked each participant his/her reason for taking the course. Prominent among the answers was a desire to know about the way in which early Christians thought, lived and worshipped. At least one student said he and a friend felt called to establish a Christian mission that was modelled after the New Testament Christian community. He hoped to discover in this class what that should be.
I understand the interest in knowing what the Church was like in the beginning. Worship is more meaningful to me when I'm reminded that some of the prayers we pray, many of the words of the Eucharist, and more have centuries of history behind them. The very form of the worship service and the form of the Eucharistic Prayer date from the first century. This is an important emotional connection for me.
As an amateur historian, I'm taken by how many times in the 2000 year history of the Church, various Christians have been on the quest the young man mentioned above is on. In the U.S. in particular, a "return" to the purity of the early Church has shaped many denominations and even created a few.
The bad news is: there is no single "early Church." There was a variety of organizational models, (that is, who was to lead the assembly?), a variety of forms for baptism, for the Eucharist, for belief systems and on and on. Just on the matter of what was used in the Eucharist, some used bread and wine, some bread, wine, water, some bread and fish, some bread, wine and olives, and some bread, wine, water, and milk and honey. Some early communities were led by the householder who hosted the gathering--meaning some women presided at the Eucharist. Some were led by a council of elders; some a council with a senior elder as overseer or president; some by those who had some charism, such as prophecy or healing.
In short, variety seemed to have been the order of the day for a couple of centuries. And you know what, each community's individual members seemed to have been nurtured, some fed well enough they were willing to die for the faith. So, what I've been thinking about is: what does that say about today's variety of beliefs and practices? I know what I've concluded. What about you?
Peace,
Jerry+
Thursday, September 24, 2009
A Simpler Time
Sorry about the delay between posts. Got distracted by more work than a retired guy should be doing.
As both my readers know, a few months ago I totaled my car and had to buy another. The new car has satellite radio, a trial anyway. One of the stations is called Classic Radio. It rebroadcasts old radio shows.
I was thrilled to discover it. I actually own a number of tapes of some old radio shows as well as a book titled The Encyclopedia of Old Time Radio. Born in 1940, I grew up listening to radio. My family didn't get a TV until I was 12, so the "theater of the mind" was a regular companion for me. I confess to a lot of nostalgia for the time.
Lately, when I have a trip of at least 15 minutes I tune into an old show. I've listened to a lot of mysteries, complete with dramatic (or over dramatic) organ music to create tension. Interestingly, the stories still hold up, though the settings are antique. Cars shifting gears, phones being dialed, odd sounding police sirens. Still, the stories work--perhaps a little melodramatically, but they still work.
Lately I've been listening to a lot of comedies. They hold up as well, too. Not necessarily knee-slapping funny, but I do find myself smiling a lot, and even laughing out loud a little. Fibber McGee and Molly, the Great Gildersleeve, Lum and Abner, Jack Benny--these were the programs of my youth. They are a bit antiquated too, but still amusing. Now, here's why I bring this up: they are all clean. Now foul language, no sexual innuendo, no outright sexual situations, no mean-spirited humor. Just funny stuff. Ordinary people doing and saying, what were for the times, ordinary things in a funny setting.
As I listen and remember all the happy hours of my childhood listening to Luigi and Judy Canova, and Bob Hope, I wonder what went wrong. When did funny always have to have a blue tint. The other night I watched the season opener of four comedies. In three of them, people slept together, even those who had just met or who were committing adultery. Did we really need that to make it funny. Plus one of the new series is based on the same premise as the movie Knocked Up. Boy and girl hook up for a one-nighter and she gets pregnant. Great. This is what we need more of on TV to normalize it even more.
I'm not a prude, but like the guy in the funny little commercial about putting the No in Innovation, I've got to ask, "Have we gone too far?" That's what I've been thinking lately. What about you?
Peace,
Jerry+
As both my readers know, a few months ago I totaled my car and had to buy another. The new car has satellite radio, a trial anyway. One of the stations is called Classic Radio. It rebroadcasts old radio shows.
I was thrilled to discover it. I actually own a number of tapes of some old radio shows as well as a book titled The Encyclopedia of Old Time Radio. Born in 1940, I grew up listening to radio. My family didn't get a TV until I was 12, so the "theater of the mind" was a regular companion for me. I confess to a lot of nostalgia for the time.
Lately, when I have a trip of at least 15 minutes I tune into an old show. I've listened to a lot of mysteries, complete with dramatic (or over dramatic) organ music to create tension. Interestingly, the stories still hold up, though the settings are antique. Cars shifting gears, phones being dialed, odd sounding police sirens. Still, the stories work--perhaps a little melodramatically, but they still work.
Lately I've been listening to a lot of comedies. They hold up as well, too. Not necessarily knee-slapping funny, but I do find myself smiling a lot, and even laughing out loud a little. Fibber McGee and Molly, the Great Gildersleeve, Lum and Abner, Jack Benny--these were the programs of my youth. They are a bit antiquated too, but still amusing. Now, here's why I bring this up: they are all clean. Now foul language, no sexual innuendo, no outright sexual situations, no mean-spirited humor. Just funny stuff. Ordinary people doing and saying, what were for the times, ordinary things in a funny setting.
As I listen and remember all the happy hours of my childhood listening to Luigi and Judy Canova, and Bob Hope, I wonder what went wrong. When did funny always have to have a blue tint. The other night I watched the season opener of four comedies. In three of them, people slept together, even those who had just met or who were committing adultery. Did we really need that to make it funny. Plus one of the new series is based on the same premise as the movie Knocked Up. Boy and girl hook up for a one-nighter and she gets pregnant. Great. This is what we need more of on TV to normalize it even more.
I'm not a prude, but like the guy in the funny little commercial about putting the No in Innovation, I've got to ask, "Have we gone too far?" That's what I've been thinking lately. What about you?
Peace,
Jerry+
Thursday, September 10, 2009
The Kingdom
I've just completed reading The Gospel of Mark by Marcus Borg. The book is one in a series of books called Conversations With Scripture created by The Anglican Association of Biblical Scholars. The book comes with a built in study guide for individual or group use. I recommend it.
But this isn't a review of the book. I'm doing that later for someone else. Borg reminded me that if we take this Gospel seriously we have to conclude that Jesus was calling people to follow him. More than that, his calls to follow him seem really to be about following him to his inevitable conclusion: entering Jerusalem and all that represented. Borg reminds us that in the early decades after Jesus', his followers were even described as followers of the Way.
When Jesus enters Jerusalem, he does so on the same day that Pilate enters, but probably through a different gate. Pilate would have been coming because Jerusalem needed additional troops during Passover when the population likely tripled to something like 150,000 to 200,000 and feeling against the Roman oppressors ran high and hot.
Pilate makes a grand entrance with his troops to establish again the power of Rome over this city and the world. Jesus makes a grand entrance riding on a donkey colt, but wildly celebrated by the people. Why? At some level they understood his arrival as an announcement about the beginning of the end of Roman occupation.
Jesus had been preaching all along about the coming Kingdom, calling people to prepare for that Kingdom. It was a Kingdom not like Rome's, but a Kingdom brought in by God in order to restore justice and peace and to relieve the suffering of the poor--most people at that time.
Along the way, Christians have watered down Jesus' message and/or replaced it with believing the right things. But it would seem that Mark was saying what needed to be believed was the Jesus was God's son and was the embodiment of God's action in the world. God will bring the Kingdom in God's own time, and in the meanwhile, because we believe who Jesus is, we will act as if the Kingdom is here now. We will see that justice is done--that is, that oppressive and dysfunctional systems are replaced. We will attend to the poor while we change the systems that keep them poor. Jesus had little apparent concern, according to Mark, about our "going to heaven." The focus seems to need to be here and now.
As I teach the history of the Church in the first few centuries after Jesus, I can tell you that we went off the track early and radically. Now's the time to fix that.
Peace,
Jerry+
But this isn't a review of the book. I'm doing that later for someone else. Borg reminded me that if we take this Gospel seriously we have to conclude that Jesus was calling people to follow him. More than that, his calls to follow him seem really to be about following him to his inevitable conclusion: entering Jerusalem and all that represented. Borg reminds us that in the early decades after Jesus', his followers were even described as followers of the Way.
When Jesus enters Jerusalem, he does so on the same day that Pilate enters, but probably through a different gate. Pilate would have been coming because Jerusalem needed additional troops during Passover when the population likely tripled to something like 150,000 to 200,000 and feeling against the Roman oppressors ran high and hot.
Pilate makes a grand entrance with his troops to establish again the power of Rome over this city and the world. Jesus makes a grand entrance riding on a donkey colt, but wildly celebrated by the people. Why? At some level they understood his arrival as an announcement about the beginning of the end of Roman occupation.
Jesus had been preaching all along about the coming Kingdom, calling people to prepare for that Kingdom. It was a Kingdom not like Rome's, but a Kingdom brought in by God in order to restore justice and peace and to relieve the suffering of the poor--most people at that time.
Along the way, Christians have watered down Jesus' message and/or replaced it with believing the right things. But it would seem that Mark was saying what needed to be believed was the Jesus was God's son and was the embodiment of God's action in the world. God will bring the Kingdom in God's own time, and in the meanwhile, because we believe who Jesus is, we will act as if the Kingdom is here now. We will see that justice is done--that is, that oppressive and dysfunctional systems are replaced. We will attend to the poor while we change the systems that keep them poor. Jesus had little apparent concern, according to Mark, about our "going to heaven." The focus seems to need to be here and now.
As I teach the history of the Church in the first few centuries after Jesus, I can tell you that we went off the track early and radically. Now's the time to fix that.
Peace,
Jerry+
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Called
When I was a young man, still a teenager in fact, I had an experience which I interpreted as a "call to preach." In my religious tradition, to be "called to preach" meant, of course, much more than that. It usually meant "called to ordained ministry" and ordained ministry meant not only preaching, but all the usual tasks and responsibilities of being a clergyperson. But that wasn't our language nor the language of much of the Church.
In the tradition of which I am a part now, The Episcopal Church, one is "called to the priesthood" or "called to the diaconate." Both mean "called to ordained ministry," though the ministries are usually different. But in both traditions, being "called" means having a higher authority declare that you are somehow "fit" to be an ordained leader, and then having a bishop and others lay hands on you to signify that. Or not.
That is to say, you can believe you are called by God to a particular ordained ministry and have others decide you're not. Exactly how they decide is, of course, a subjective process full of mystery. I am very aware of people being "turned down," that is, having the legitimacy of their call questioned for, say being overweight or being abrupt. Now the fact is that the ordained ranks are peppered with fat people and abrupt people, and for that matter fat, abrupt people. Yet the fat, abrupt and FaA people still manage to be at least adequate ministers--sometime much more than adequate. And one wonders: did they become F, A, and/or FaA only after ordination?
Today, a woman shared with me that her bishop had recently said to her something to the effect, "Don't ruin your spirituality and ministry by seeking ordination." Was he really giving her the low down on what happens to many who go through the process and become ordained, or was he just trying to discourage one more potential candidate for ordination from clogging the system? In either case, what of her call? What must she do now? Be content with a lay ministry--an important lay ministry? But is she being really faithful if she does?
It's all a mystery to me.
Peace,
Jerry+
In the tradition of which I am a part now, The Episcopal Church, one is "called to the priesthood" or "called to the diaconate." Both mean "called to ordained ministry," though the ministries are usually different. But in both traditions, being "called" means having a higher authority declare that you are somehow "fit" to be an ordained leader, and then having a bishop and others lay hands on you to signify that. Or not.
That is to say, you can believe you are called by God to a particular ordained ministry and have others decide you're not. Exactly how they decide is, of course, a subjective process full of mystery. I am very aware of people being "turned down," that is, having the legitimacy of their call questioned for, say being overweight or being abrupt. Now the fact is that the ordained ranks are peppered with fat people and abrupt people, and for that matter fat, abrupt people. Yet the fat, abrupt and FaA people still manage to be at least adequate ministers--sometime much more than adequate. And one wonders: did they become F, A, and/or FaA only after ordination?
Today, a woman shared with me that her bishop had recently said to her something to the effect, "Don't ruin your spirituality and ministry by seeking ordination." Was he really giving her the low down on what happens to many who go through the process and become ordained, or was he just trying to discourage one more potential candidate for ordination from clogging the system? In either case, what of her call? What must she do now? Be content with a lay ministry--an important lay ministry? But is she being really faithful if she does?
It's all a mystery to me.
Peace,
Jerry+
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Rules
This coming Sunday, we move to Mark's Gospel. And right off the bat, Jesus is confronted by the religious leaders because he and his disciples are breaking the religious purity laws--specifically, they didn't ritually wash their hands before they ate. I'm sure this sounds a bit picky to moderns, but there is something important to remember: the Law was in place, all 616 parts, to serve as a means of grace, a way to draw people closer to their God. That Jesus seems to void that does seem to be pretty drastic and dramatic.
What Jesus does is he uses the opportunity to point out that the emphasis needs to shift. It's not what goes into a person that defiles, he says, it's what comes out.
For the gentle reader or two I have, this is no big surprise. But there are many Christians who insist that following rules is really at the heart of being a believer. The rules are just a bit different. A rule might be that one understand the Scriptures to be the literal word of God, without error of any kind. Or it might be that husbands are to rule over their wives--though that tends to be dressed up in less straightforward language these days. Perhaps the rule is about who can receive Holy Communion or who can be married. Suffice it to say, there are lots and lots of them.
The Epistle reading from James picks up on this same theme by insisting that we be doers of the word of God and not just hearers. And he goes on to illustrate the kinds of behavior that would demonstrate doing instead of just hearing: controlling anger, showing compassion and more.
Fundamentally, what makes a person acceptable isn't rule keeping, but the grace of God freely given to all. And perhaps, since we know very well we really don't deserve it ourselves, we could decide to give that grace to others who don't deserve it either. That's what I've been thinking. What about you?
Peace,
Jerry
What Jesus does is he uses the opportunity to point out that the emphasis needs to shift. It's not what goes into a person that defiles, he says, it's what comes out.
For the gentle reader or two I have, this is no big surprise. But there are many Christians who insist that following rules is really at the heart of being a believer. The rules are just a bit different. A rule might be that one understand the Scriptures to be the literal word of God, without error of any kind. Or it might be that husbands are to rule over their wives--though that tends to be dressed up in less straightforward language these days. Perhaps the rule is about who can receive Holy Communion or who can be married. Suffice it to say, there are lots and lots of them.
The Epistle reading from James picks up on this same theme by insisting that we be doers of the word of God and not just hearers. And he goes on to illustrate the kinds of behavior that would demonstrate doing instead of just hearing: controlling anger, showing compassion and more.
Fundamentally, what makes a person acceptable isn't rule keeping, but the grace of God freely given to all. And perhaps, since we know very well we really don't deserve it ourselves, we could decide to give that grace to others who don't deserve it either. That's what I've been thinking. What about you?
Peace,
Jerry
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Gone Too Far
The Gospel for this past Sunday was the fifth in a series about Jesus as bread of life. In this reading, Jesus shocks some good Jews and God-fearers in the synagogue by proclaiming that unless one eats his flesh and drinks his blood, that one cannot have eternal life.
This is a scandalous saying on two fronts. First, he's addressing people who have a strict dietary rule against eating human flesh and second, a law against drinking the blood of any living thing. Jesus is, in effect, asking them to overthrow all they have believed in, that is, Torah, and follow him.
Their response is understandable, "This saying is too hard." John then goes on to say that some of Jesus' disciples leave and follow him no more. Notice, it is some of those who have been following him, who have been gladly hearing what he has to say, who have perhaps benefited from his healings and feeding who leave. It's not unbelievers; it's those who have believed in him. But finally, he has gone too far.
I wonder if sometimes when we take seriously Jesus' teachings and are faced with bringing justice to a world full of injustice, of caring for the poor--some of whom seem to neither have interest in caring for themselves nor appreciation for our caring for them--if we don't agree with those who left: Jesus has gone too far. When he expects us to love the unlovable, maybe we find it hard to do because Jesus has gone too far. When he expects us to forgive those who do harm to us, maybe we can't because Jesus has just gone too far. What other reasons can we find for our general unwillingness to graciously accept those who believe differently from us? Loving them would just be going too far.
Wounded, when many leave, Jesus turns to the Twelve and asks if they will also leave. And Peter, God bless him, says, "To whom would we go? You have the words of eternal life." Yes, and staying will cost these men dearly. Maybe that's another reason our ardor is not equal to theirs. That, or perhaps we don't really think Jesus has the words of eternal life. Not sure. What do you think?
Peace,
Jerry+
This is a scandalous saying on two fronts. First, he's addressing people who have a strict dietary rule against eating human flesh and second, a law against drinking the blood of any living thing. Jesus is, in effect, asking them to overthrow all they have believed in, that is, Torah, and follow him.
Their response is understandable, "This saying is too hard." John then goes on to say that some of Jesus' disciples leave and follow him no more. Notice, it is some of those who have been following him, who have been gladly hearing what he has to say, who have perhaps benefited from his healings and feeding who leave. It's not unbelievers; it's those who have believed in him. But finally, he has gone too far.
I wonder if sometimes when we take seriously Jesus' teachings and are faced with bringing justice to a world full of injustice, of caring for the poor--some of whom seem to neither have interest in caring for themselves nor appreciation for our caring for them--if we don't agree with those who left: Jesus has gone too far. When he expects us to love the unlovable, maybe we find it hard to do because Jesus has gone too far. When he expects us to forgive those who do harm to us, maybe we can't because Jesus has just gone too far. What other reasons can we find for our general unwillingness to graciously accept those who believe differently from us? Loving them would just be going too far.
Wounded, when many leave, Jesus turns to the Twelve and asks if they will also leave. And Peter, God bless him, says, "To whom would we go? You have the words of eternal life." Yes, and staying will cost these men dearly. Maybe that's another reason our ardor is not equal to theirs. That, or perhaps we don't really think Jesus has the words of eternal life. Not sure. What do you think?
Peace,
Jerry+
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Too Easy
Shooting fish in a barrel. That's the expression for taking a shot at something that you just can't miss, so I almost feel guilty taking my shots with this blog. But, I just need to say something about something.
Coach Pitino. You probably know the story. Six years ago he had sex with a stranger in a bar, got her pregnant and paid for an abortion. The public would never have known except she decided to try to extort money from him. This is stupid on so many levels, I won't say more about it specifically. Let's move on to the next item.
Last week the West Memphis police saw two men standing in the middle of the street, apparently drinking. When the cop rolled up, one of the men ditched what he had into a bush and did the rabbit trick. The cop pursued and caught him. No big deal so far. But the man's mother happens to roll up on the scene and, since the cop is white and the perp is not, she begins to curse calling him a "white m.....f.....," among other things and then says, "Do you know who I am? I'm a former West Memphis Council Member." Well we're allowed to say stupid things at moments such as those, I guess. But as the cop reaches into her car, since apparently she won't step out, she drives off with him hanging on. He quickly let go and wasn't serious hurt. She, however got charged.
Now the thing is, had her son done nothing, the cop would probably have told him to get out of the street and take his drinking inside. End of episode. But noooooo.
I could add to this list several more very public figures who have done similar stupid things recently and had the light of the media shined in their faces. You know who they are. And what are we doing? Shaking our heads and thinking how stupid they are. But they are more than stupid. In each case there is a moral and/or ethic issue that should outrage us and would have outraged our grandparents, maybe even our parents.
Awakening way too early the other day, I entertained myself with TV. There's not much on at that time, so I ended up watching a couple of episodes of "Cheaters." It's a show in which an investigator is hired by a spouse or significant other to check on the fidelity of his or her partner. Of course they are caught being unfaithful. And you know what? They don't care. There is no remorse, no apparent guilt, no repentance, no asking for forgiveness. Instead, they show outrage at being followed and/or blame their partner for their infidelity.
I could go on, but the bottom line for this blog is this: "What in God's name has happened to our standard of morality in this country?" We freak out when we hear some Muslim woman being whipped because she showed her legs or talked to the wrong man. And we should. But where's our outrage at the stuff going on right here that's far worse?
This is what I've been thinking about the last couple of days. Any thoughts?
Peace,
Jerry+
Coach Pitino. You probably know the story. Six years ago he had sex with a stranger in a bar, got her pregnant and paid for an abortion. The public would never have known except she decided to try to extort money from him. This is stupid on so many levels, I won't say more about it specifically. Let's move on to the next item.
Last week the West Memphis police saw two men standing in the middle of the street, apparently drinking. When the cop rolled up, one of the men ditched what he had into a bush and did the rabbit trick. The cop pursued and caught him. No big deal so far. But the man's mother happens to roll up on the scene and, since the cop is white and the perp is not, she begins to curse calling him a "white m.....f.....," among other things and then says, "Do you know who I am? I'm a former West Memphis Council Member." Well we're allowed to say stupid things at moments such as those, I guess. But as the cop reaches into her car, since apparently she won't step out, she drives off with him hanging on. He quickly let go and wasn't serious hurt. She, however got charged.
Now the thing is, had her son done nothing, the cop would probably have told him to get out of the street and take his drinking inside. End of episode. But noooooo.
I could add to this list several more very public figures who have done similar stupid things recently and had the light of the media shined in their faces. You know who they are. And what are we doing? Shaking our heads and thinking how stupid they are. But they are more than stupid. In each case there is a moral and/or ethic issue that should outrage us and would have outraged our grandparents, maybe even our parents.
Awakening way too early the other day, I entertained myself with TV. There's not much on at that time, so I ended up watching a couple of episodes of "Cheaters." It's a show in which an investigator is hired by a spouse or significant other to check on the fidelity of his or her partner. Of course they are caught being unfaithful. And you know what? They don't care. There is no remorse, no apparent guilt, no repentance, no asking for forgiveness. Instead, they show outrage at being followed and/or blame their partner for their infidelity.
I could go on, but the bottom line for this blog is this: "What in God's name has happened to our standard of morality in this country?" We freak out when we hear some Muslim woman being whipped because she showed her legs or talked to the wrong man. And we should. But where's our outrage at the stuff going on right here that's far worse?
This is what I've been thinking about the last couple of days. Any thoughts?
Peace,
Jerry+
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Leading Worship
Last Saturday, along with the Dean of the Cathedral of the Diocese, I had the pleasure and responsibility of training Eucharistic Ministers and Lectors for the Diocese.
That alone is a bit surreal since I'm United Methodist. I was introduced as one who "knows more about this than most Anglicans." I doubt it, but I do know a lot because for seven years I was responsible for selecting, training, scheduling and overseeing 80 to 100 of these in the Episcopal Church where I was on staff as one of the clergy--something else that's surreal.
I took it very seriously and I took the job Saturday seriously as well. Why? Eucharist Ministers in the Episcopal Church typically administer the chalice in the service of Holy Communion and Lectors read the lessons. These are incredibly important tasks for those who are leading worship. In two different ways, these folks are mediating the grace of God to others, one by reading God's word, the other by administering a sacrament.
Without mentioning all the things I talked about, I want to mention one. I reminded those who serve that there is not a test that makes one eligible for hearing the Word or for receiving the cup. What each person believes is not at issue. How each person lived the previous week is not at issue. We have agreed as Christians to have our differences but to gather for worship without having some litmus test administered. We have agreed to leave to God whether or not someone is worthy to come and worship in these ways, and by the way, we believe God has already acted on who is invited.
One of the principles behind this position is that before God, we are all loved and accepted. And, it is hoped, by acting this way in worship, we will be able to actually love and accept those who are, in fact, different from us. Now if we could only pull that off.
Peace,
Jerry+
That alone is a bit surreal since I'm United Methodist. I was introduced as one who "knows more about this than most Anglicans." I doubt it, but I do know a lot because for seven years I was responsible for selecting, training, scheduling and overseeing 80 to 100 of these in the Episcopal Church where I was on staff as one of the clergy--something else that's surreal.
I took it very seriously and I took the job Saturday seriously as well. Why? Eucharist Ministers in the Episcopal Church typically administer the chalice in the service of Holy Communion and Lectors read the lessons. These are incredibly important tasks for those who are leading worship. In two different ways, these folks are mediating the grace of God to others, one by reading God's word, the other by administering a sacrament.
Without mentioning all the things I talked about, I want to mention one. I reminded those who serve that there is not a test that makes one eligible for hearing the Word or for receiving the cup. What each person believes is not at issue. How each person lived the previous week is not at issue. We have agreed as Christians to have our differences but to gather for worship without having some litmus test administered. We have agreed to leave to God whether or not someone is worthy to come and worship in these ways, and by the way, we believe God has already acted on who is invited.
One of the principles behind this position is that before God, we are all loved and accepted. And, it is hoped, by acting this way in worship, we will be able to actually love and accept those who are, in fact, different from us. Now if we could only pull that off.
Peace,
Jerry+
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Bread from Heaven
"He rained down manna upon them to eat
and gave them grain from heaven.
So mortals ate the bread of angels;
he provided for them food enough."
Psalm 78 24-25
Sunday we have the follow up story to feeding the 5000. It's the next day and when the people awake, they discover Jesus has left the vicinity. After puzzling over it, they determine he's gone to Capernaum and take off to find him.
Guess what they want? Yep. More bread. Jesus seems clearly annoyed. To paraphrase John's report of Jesus' remarks, "I'm kind of disappointed. I would hope you'd come for something more substantial--something more substantial than a good dinner and show." His comment goes right over their head. "Give us a sign." They go on to say, "Moses gave our ancestors manna. What have you got?"
Like many of us, they mistake the hole inside for hunger--hunger for food or for "stuff." We are a nation of obese people. Wonder why? We are a nation hungry for the latest--the latest gadget, the latest clothes, the latest piece of Web tech. Wonder why? Well for one thing, these are great distractions from having to think, to consider, to process, to reflect, to wonder. And that helps us avoid the pain of realization that food and this kind of stuff will never fill the hole.
We aren't likely to be eating the bread of angels. Too bad.
Peace,
Jerry+
and gave them grain from heaven.
So mortals ate the bread of angels;
he provided for them food enough."
Psalm 78 24-25
Sunday we have the follow up story to feeding the 5000. It's the next day and when the people awake, they discover Jesus has left the vicinity. After puzzling over it, they determine he's gone to Capernaum and take off to find him.
Guess what they want? Yep. More bread. Jesus seems clearly annoyed. To paraphrase John's report of Jesus' remarks, "I'm kind of disappointed. I would hope you'd come for something more substantial--something more substantial than a good dinner and show." His comment goes right over their head. "Give us a sign." They go on to say, "Moses gave our ancestors manna. What have you got?"
Like many of us, they mistake the hole inside for hunger--hunger for food or for "stuff." We are a nation of obese people. Wonder why? We are a nation hungry for the latest--the latest gadget, the latest clothes, the latest piece of Web tech. Wonder why? Well for one thing, these are great distractions from having to think, to consider, to process, to reflect, to wonder. And that helps us avoid the pain of realization that food and this kind of stuff will never fill the hole.
We aren't likely to be eating the bread of angels. Too bad.
Peace,
Jerry+
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Chasing Jesus
Sunday's Gospel reading tells how Jesus and his disciples, exhausted from their work, make their way across the lake for a little respite. But the people skirt the lake and show up on the other side. Plus along the way, they gather others from villages and farms who are waiting for him when the boat lands. When he arrives, Mark says, Jesus "looked on them with compassion." He not only resumed his teaching, but he healed all those who were brought to him.
I wondered aloud today in my sermon at the Parkview why people don't still chase Jesus. Researchers tell us that not only are Christians diminishing in raw numbers in this country, but they aren't keeping up with the percentage growth of the country either. Attendance is down across the board. Even the Southern Baptist churches, traditionally growing every year, report the last two years a decline in professions of faith. What's going on?
Plenty. We're all busy. We're a nation of two career families or two job singles. We have more entertainment options than we've ever had in history. Not only can we watch dozens of channels of TV, we can Tweet, and Facebook and play video games and, well you know. But I don't think this is the primary reason. Let me add this disclaimer: this is strictly an opinion based on no research. I think the problem is Christians.
If we are the representatives of Jesus in our contemporary world, for the most part, we're doing a crummy job. We can't get along with each other. Heck, we can't even get along within our own denominations or parishes. Splits over beliefs are routine. Just not liking the priest or minister is reason enough to leave a parish or the church all together. While we give to our local churches, the amount that passes through to help the poor and lost is often less than 10% with the bulk going for institutional costs like utilities and salaries.
In short, we aren't looking with compassion at very many people. We do little or nothing to differentiate ourselves from those who make no pretense at being Christian. So why would anybody "chase Jesus" if we're the model for him in this world?
Guess I sound a little gloomy today. Maybe it's because according to the best researchers, within 15 years in this country, fewer than half the people will even claim Christianity as their faith and by 2050, the dominant faith in the U.S. will be Islam.
Peace?
Jerry+
I wondered aloud today in my sermon at the Parkview why people don't still chase Jesus. Researchers tell us that not only are Christians diminishing in raw numbers in this country, but they aren't keeping up with the percentage growth of the country either. Attendance is down across the board. Even the Southern Baptist churches, traditionally growing every year, report the last two years a decline in professions of faith. What's going on?
Plenty. We're all busy. We're a nation of two career families or two job singles. We have more entertainment options than we've ever had in history. Not only can we watch dozens of channels of TV, we can Tweet, and Facebook and play video games and, well you know. But I don't think this is the primary reason. Let me add this disclaimer: this is strictly an opinion based on no research. I think the problem is Christians.
If we are the representatives of Jesus in our contemporary world, for the most part, we're doing a crummy job. We can't get along with each other. Heck, we can't even get along within our own denominations or parishes. Splits over beliefs are routine. Just not liking the priest or minister is reason enough to leave a parish or the church all together. While we give to our local churches, the amount that passes through to help the poor and lost is often less than 10% with the bulk going for institutional costs like utilities and salaries.
In short, we aren't looking with compassion at very many people. We do little or nothing to differentiate ourselves from those who make no pretense at being Christian. So why would anybody "chase Jesus" if we're the model for him in this world?
Guess I sound a little gloomy today. Maybe it's because according to the best researchers, within 15 years in this country, fewer than half the people will even claim Christianity as their faith and by 2050, the dominant faith in the U.S. will be Islam.
Peace?
Jerry+
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Losing Your Head
I was very distracted at worship Sunday. The lessons didn't help, especially the beheading of John the Baptizer. But in the final analysis, it wasn't anything at church that was the cause of my lack of focus. It was disruption at home.
I'm not an order freak, though I do like things in their place--principally so I can find them easily. Dirt and dust don't bother me too much, especially now that I'm the "housekeeper." But things in disarray and clutter bug me a lot. And right now, there is a fair amount of disarray. We're redoing a bedroom/playroom and I'm building shelves in my closet.
The redoing has required removal of the furniture. So first I attempted to sell it through the neighborhood newsletter. Got rid of one piece. I moved one piece out myself to refinish it for my closet and then decided to just build shelves. Finally, called the Salvation Army truck. But each time something was moved, a bunch of other stuff had to be moved so it could be wrangled out of the room, and then through the small den and out the door.
With these projects humming, I was also trying to continue my outdoor projects, prepare notes for teaching a new course at the Seminary in the fall and more and more. I felt overwhelmed, and I noticed, under appreciated.
This was the mindset I took to church. I confess I prayed for peace both for me and for Carol who had a bad experience at work that threw her into a tailspin for days. But, as I said, I wasn't very focused on worship so little wonder the peace seemed to elude me. Only later did the story of John losing his head creep into my world.
John's in jail for ticking off the higher ups. He's worried that Jesus may not be who he thought he was--even sends some followers to check up. And then, John loses his head. Literally. "Jeez," I thought, "John really had it bad. And me? Just crap that will ultimately be taken care of, go away, or won't matter."
Peace comes in funny ways.
Jerry+
I'm not an order freak, though I do like things in their place--principally so I can find them easily. Dirt and dust don't bother me too much, especially now that I'm the "housekeeper." But things in disarray and clutter bug me a lot. And right now, there is a fair amount of disarray. We're redoing a bedroom/playroom and I'm building shelves in my closet.
The redoing has required removal of the furniture. So first I attempted to sell it through the neighborhood newsletter. Got rid of one piece. I moved one piece out myself to refinish it for my closet and then decided to just build shelves. Finally, called the Salvation Army truck. But each time something was moved, a bunch of other stuff had to be moved so it could be wrangled out of the room, and then through the small den and out the door.
With these projects humming, I was also trying to continue my outdoor projects, prepare notes for teaching a new course at the Seminary in the fall and more and more. I felt overwhelmed, and I noticed, under appreciated.
This was the mindset I took to church. I confess I prayed for peace both for me and for Carol who had a bad experience at work that threw her into a tailspin for days. But, as I said, I wasn't very focused on worship so little wonder the peace seemed to elude me. Only later did the story of John losing his head creep into my world.
John's in jail for ticking off the higher ups. He's worried that Jesus may not be who he thought he was--even sends some followers to check up. And then, John loses his head. Literally. "Jeez," I thought, "John really had it bad. And me? Just crap that will ultimately be taken care of, go away, or won't matter."
Peace comes in funny ways.
Jerry+
Monday, July 6, 2009
Connection
Last night my wife and I attended the touring production of Wicked. Weird, but fun story of the Wicked Witch of the West, Glenda, the Good Witch, and how the Tin Man and Scarecrow came to be. Wildly popular show everwhere. When it finishes its run here, 57,000 people will have seen it.
All this is to set up what I observed before, at intermission, and immediately after the show. Cell phones flashing on! By the dozens! People were either checking email, twittering, checking calls or something similar. They weren't talking to the people around them. In fact, in more than one case, people who were sitting together were each on their phone, punching buttons, as it were, with single-minded intent.
I carry a cell phone. I've had one since the days of the "brick." I had it with me last night. Turned off. I turned it on when we got in the car. I find it to be very useful. Recently when I had my wreck, I used my cell to call for help. I have nothing against cell phones.
But, what I wonder about is the motivation behind the umbilical attachment to them. Back in the 70s I was on the road a lot and I had a CB radio. It was the fad in those days. Discussing it with a colleague, I opined that it was the equivalent to the old front porch on which people sat and said "howdy" and more to those that walked down the sidewalk in front of their houses. I wonder if there is a built in longing for connection that prompts Facebook, MySpace, Twitter and more? Is the electronic connection the best we can do these days?
Again, I'm not against electronic connection. I use email to stay in touch with friends, especially those far away and, obviously, I blog. My question is about what seems to be an obsession with the devices, even to the exclusion of interacting with those around you. And I guess at a deeper level, I wonder what hole all this connection is trying to fill?
Of course, I can't help thinking theologically about it. Wonder what you think? How about leaving a comment to let me know?
Peace,
Jerry+
All this is to set up what I observed before, at intermission, and immediately after the show. Cell phones flashing on! By the dozens! People were either checking email, twittering, checking calls or something similar. They weren't talking to the people around them. In fact, in more than one case, people who were sitting together were each on their phone, punching buttons, as it were, with single-minded intent.
I carry a cell phone. I've had one since the days of the "brick." I had it with me last night. Turned off. I turned it on when we got in the car. I find it to be very useful. Recently when I had my wreck, I used my cell to call for help. I have nothing against cell phones.
But, what I wonder about is the motivation behind the umbilical attachment to them. Back in the 70s I was on the road a lot and I had a CB radio. It was the fad in those days. Discussing it with a colleague, I opined that it was the equivalent to the old front porch on which people sat and said "howdy" and more to those that walked down the sidewalk in front of their houses. I wonder if there is a built in longing for connection that prompts Facebook, MySpace, Twitter and more? Is the electronic connection the best we can do these days?
Again, I'm not against electronic connection. I use email to stay in touch with friends, especially those far away and, obviously, I blog. My question is about what seems to be an obsession with the devices, even to the exclusion of interacting with those around you. And I guess at a deeper level, I wonder what hole all this connection is trying to fill?
Of course, I can't help thinking theologically about it. Wonder what you think? How about leaving a comment to let me know?
Peace,
Jerry+
Monday, June 29, 2009
Red Letter Day
On liturgical calendars, feast days of saints and martyrs are usually marked in red. If there is an Eucharist that day, the stole color is red, as are any hangings. Today is one of those days. June 29 is the Feast Day of Sts. Peter and Paul, commemorating their martyrdom in Rome in the first century.
But today is red letter for a personal reason as well. Forty years ago today, I was ordained an Elder in the United Methodist Church. The memory is vivid and fresh after all this time. While UM clergy are usually ordained as a group each year during the Annual Conference--the yearly meeting of clergy and laity of a given geographical area--the bishop who was in charge at that time of the Memphis Conference wanted to try something different. Bishop Finger was his name and he wanted to ordain people in the local church in from which they had made the decision to enter the ministry or their home church if that was more special to them. So I was ordained by myself at Grace Church in Memphis.
At the time hands were laid on me to ordain me, the Bishop was joined by a United Methodist clergyman, Tom Wilson, and two of my seminary professors: Joe Ben Irby, a Cumberland Presbyterian, and Richard Wolf, an Evangelical Lutheran. Both had taught me Church History. Joe Ben first interested me in the field and Dr. Wolf was my major professor for my M.Div and doctoral work.
About half these forty years were spent in some kind of parish or campus ministry. The other half I was in private practice as a therapist, but that work was shaped by my call. And simultaneously with a good bit of that time, I was an adjunct professor at a seminary. Plus, Sundays often found me teaching in the Christian Ed program of various parishes around town.
I haven't always felt as if I fit in very well in the Church as institution. In fact, I can honestly put it more strongly--I don't think I fit in very well. For one thing, I've never felt particularly as pious as my clergy peers seem to be (I guess pious is the right word), and hence have often been described as "not your usual minister." For another, I've always felt as if the Church as institution functions largely in an irrational way and that bugs me no end. For example, the UMC still moves clergy around as it did during the frontier days when it was a necessity while now it is a huge inconvenience for the clergy, their families and often their parishes. Additionally, the UMC makes these moves in less than rational ways, seldom taking into account the actual gifts of a clergyperson or the actual needs of a parish. That always frustrated me.
On top of all that, those who know me well know that first in 1983 and then again in 2002, I tried to become an Episcopal priest where I feel much more at home. And both times was eventually turned down after promising beginnings. This is a pain I still feel from time to time.
But even with all this said, I have no serious regrets about the decision that started the process toward that special Sunday forty years ago. I felt the Spirit enter my life and work under the hands of those holy men and I continue to feel the Spirit's presence in my life and work in a unique way. It has always been a mystery to me as to why God called me, but I'm thankful to have been called.
Peace,
Jerry+
But today is red letter for a personal reason as well. Forty years ago today, I was ordained an Elder in the United Methodist Church. The memory is vivid and fresh after all this time. While UM clergy are usually ordained as a group each year during the Annual Conference--the yearly meeting of clergy and laity of a given geographical area--the bishop who was in charge at that time of the Memphis Conference wanted to try something different. Bishop Finger was his name and he wanted to ordain people in the local church in from which they had made the decision to enter the ministry or their home church if that was more special to them. So I was ordained by myself at Grace Church in Memphis.
At the time hands were laid on me to ordain me, the Bishop was joined by a United Methodist clergyman, Tom Wilson, and two of my seminary professors: Joe Ben Irby, a Cumberland Presbyterian, and Richard Wolf, an Evangelical Lutheran. Both had taught me Church History. Joe Ben first interested me in the field and Dr. Wolf was my major professor for my M.Div and doctoral work.
About half these forty years were spent in some kind of parish or campus ministry. The other half I was in private practice as a therapist, but that work was shaped by my call. And simultaneously with a good bit of that time, I was an adjunct professor at a seminary. Plus, Sundays often found me teaching in the Christian Ed program of various parishes around town.
I haven't always felt as if I fit in very well in the Church as institution. In fact, I can honestly put it more strongly--I don't think I fit in very well. For one thing, I've never felt particularly as pious as my clergy peers seem to be (I guess pious is the right word), and hence have often been described as "not your usual minister." For another, I've always felt as if the Church as institution functions largely in an irrational way and that bugs me no end. For example, the UMC still moves clergy around as it did during the frontier days when it was a necessity while now it is a huge inconvenience for the clergy, their families and often their parishes. Additionally, the UMC makes these moves in less than rational ways, seldom taking into account the actual gifts of a clergyperson or the actual needs of a parish. That always frustrated me.
On top of all that, those who know me well know that first in 1983 and then again in 2002, I tried to become an Episcopal priest where I feel much more at home. And both times was eventually turned down after promising beginnings. This is a pain I still feel from time to time.
But even with all this said, I have no serious regrets about the decision that started the process toward that special Sunday forty years ago. I felt the Spirit enter my life and work under the hands of those holy men and I continue to feel the Spirit's presence in my life and work in a unique way. It has always been a mystery to me as to why God called me, but I'm thankful to have been called.
Peace,
Jerry+
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Inadequate
Last Sunday's Gospel reading tells the story of Jesus calming the wind and sea when his followers in the boat fear for their lives. It must have been a heck of a storm for these seasoned fishermen to have been so afraid. The Sea of Galilee on which they fished almost daily was known for its quick and nasty storms, but surely they were very experienced in dealing with them. But not this time.
Their boat was likely about twenty feet long with a single mast and sail if it is like the remains of one found a few years ago when the Sea was very low due to drought. At twenty feet and shallow draft, it would have been not unlike a cork bobbing and tossing on the waves. I can imagine them trying everything. But finally they admit defeat.
Oddly, though they are later surprised he could actually calm the storm, they finally turn to Jesus. They wake him and chide him for not caring that they are all about to perish. We know what happens next. The storm is calmed.
Is an obvious message for us to be found here? When our storms are doing their worst, we turn to Jesus last? And we even know that he can help! Interesting, huh?
Peace,
Jerry+
P.S. Today is post number 100. Wonder if anybody except my son is reading these?
Their boat was likely about twenty feet long with a single mast and sail if it is like the remains of one found a few years ago when the Sea was very low due to drought. At twenty feet and shallow draft, it would have been not unlike a cork bobbing and tossing on the waves. I can imagine them trying everything. But finally they admit defeat.
Oddly, though they are later surprised he could actually calm the storm, they finally turn to Jesus. They wake him and chide him for not caring that they are all about to perish. We know what happens next. The storm is calmed.
Is an obvious message for us to be found here? When our storms are doing their worst, we turn to Jesus last? And we even know that he can help! Interesting, huh?
Peace,
Jerry+
P.S. Today is post number 100. Wonder if anybody except my son is reading these?
Thursday, June 18, 2009
I'm OK Now
Rodney Dangerfield began most of his comic bits with, "I'm OK now, but you should have seen me last week." I know just how he felt.
A week ago today, I was involved in a car accident that totalled both cars. I was hit in the driver's side, taking out the door and the left front fender--and obviously lots more. Just didn't see the car coming and she hit me at about 35 mph. She was unhurt, for which I am very thankful.
My left hand was hit by the side air bag because when I saw the car, I threw my hands in front of my face thinking there would be glass flying. It sustained significant bruises and one of the vessels on my pointer was ruptured so there was blood. Later I found seat belt bruises too. And my neck and right shoulder sustained soft tissue injuries.
I don't remember a time when I have been any more afraid than when I saw her SUV and knew a crash was inevitable. I've joked and told people that I said either "O God!" or O shit!" The truth is, I only know I said something, but I don't know what. People were immediately at the car to help me climb out the passenger's side door. My glasses had been knocked off and I couldn't find them, so someone climbed in the car and helped with that.
The police were almost instantly at the site--must have been in the neighborhood; we didn't even have to call. I was very shaken and my finger kept bleeding so they asked if I wanted an ambulance. I didn't. Somewhere in the process, I called Mike, my son, who came to take me to the minor medical center and take me home. He was calm and calming, and of course, supportive. In fact, the only people I had to deal with who were a bit, how shall I put it--uncaring (?) was the tow truck driver who required $125 in cash before towing the car. But everyone else, insurance claim agents, rental car agents, medical personnel, police, the bank, the car dealer, even the other driver, were all polite, concerned, caring, and helpful.
The past week is kind of a blur. Multiple times an hour, I still see the SUV bearing down on me, but the emotions are leveling off. Driving feels like it did when I was a learner: nothing is automatic and the "enemy" is everywhere. I know this will eventually pass.
Carol, my wife, has been a champ. Even though this is going to cost us some bucks that are a little harder to come by these days to replace the car and an increase in insurance payments, she keeps saying, "The main thing is you're OK." That is the main thing. Nobody was seriously injured. The worst we have to deal with is inconvenience.
Oh, in the midst of all this confusion, straightline winds knocked out power out for 24 hours.
Is this a parable for those of us who are still working, who aren't missing meals, whose power is still not still out five days later, whose health and welfare are in good shape? Perhaps we whine about the wrong stuff. I'm OK now and I feel a deeper sense of appreciation for being alive and well. I thank God for that. Going forward, I'll try to keep that the main thing.
Peace,
Jerry+
A week ago today, I was involved in a car accident that totalled both cars. I was hit in the driver's side, taking out the door and the left front fender--and obviously lots more. Just didn't see the car coming and she hit me at about 35 mph. She was unhurt, for which I am very thankful.
My left hand was hit by the side air bag because when I saw the car, I threw my hands in front of my face thinking there would be glass flying. It sustained significant bruises and one of the vessels on my pointer was ruptured so there was blood. Later I found seat belt bruises too. And my neck and right shoulder sustained soft tissue injuries.
I don't remember a time when I have been any more afraid than when I saw her SUV and knew a crash was inevitable. I've joked and told people that I said either "O God!" or O shit!" The truth is, I only know I said something, but I don't know what. People were immediately at the car to help me climb out the passenger's side door. My glasses had been knocked off and I couldn't find them, so someone climbed in the car and helped with that.
The police were almost instantly at the site--must have been in the neighborhood; we didn't even have to call. I was very shaken and my finger kept bleeding so they asked if I wanted an ambulance. I didn't. Somewhere in the process, I called Mike, my son, who came to take me to the minor medical center and take me home. He was calm and calming, and of course, supportive. In fact, the only people I had to deal with who were a bit, how shall I put it--uncaring (?) was the tow truck driver who required $125 in cash before towing the car. But everyone else, insurance claim agents, rental car agents, medical personnel, police, the bank, the car dealer, even the other driver, were all polite, concerned, caring, and helpful.
The past week is kind of a blur. Multiple times an hour, I still see the SUV bearing down on me, but the emotions are leveling off. Driving feels like it did when I was a learner: nothing is automatic and the "enemy" is everywhere. I know this will eventually pass.
Carol, my wife, has been a champ. Even though this is going to cost us some bucks that are a little harder to come by these days to replace the car and an increase in insurance payments, she keeps saying, "The main thing is you're OK." That is the main thing. Nobody was seriously injured. The worst we have to deal with is inconvenience.
Oh, in the midst of all this confusion, straightline winds knocked out power out for 24 hours.
Is this a parable for those of us who are still working, who aren't missing meals, whose power is still not still out five days later, whose health and welfare are in good shape? Perhaps we whine about the wrong stuff. I'm OK now and I feel a deeper sense of appreciation for being alive and well. I thank God for that. Going forward, I'll try to keep that the main thing.
Peace,
Jerry+
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Trinity Sunday
Last Sunday was Trinity Sunday. This is the day when the Church is supposed to celebrate this distinctive Three-In-One doctrine of ours about the relationship between God as Father, God as Son, and God as Holy Spirit. Most clergy dread having to preach about this, and in my experience, most avoid it, choosing some other topic.
In the history of the Church, the issue of the relationship between these three entities hasn't always been agreed upon. Not until Nicea in 325 was any attempt made to have an official doctrine agreed on by all. Even then it didn't happen. Arians, a group of Christians who had a different idea about Jesus, were to be stamped out now that orthodoxy had been declared. It didn't work. Basically the Arian movement continued for another couple of centuries as "official" teaching in the Germanic areas of Europe in particular.
Not only that, a group known as monophysites (meaning one nature) continued for centuries and still exist in several regional churches, such as Egypt.
So what? Well in this time when so much is made of orthodoxy and fundamentalism is constantly clashing with other views, it's important to ask a question. Does the requirement for accepting the doctrine of the Trinity to be Christian apply to followers of Jesus before Nicea? And what about the Arians and monophysites? Oh, and what about the United Pentecostals, a modern Pentecostal denomination that rejects this doctrine too? Are we saying all these people aren't saved?
Well, of course we are, if by "we" we mean modern Christian fundamentalist (Pentecostals excepted). The rest of us? Heck, we don't really understand the doctrine anyway and in my experience, most Christians I've known are actually not trinitarian in their belief. They say the Creeds, but in the final analysis, they tend more toward the "three God" belief in practice.
All of which is to say, since Jesus seemed way more interested in how people lived than in what they believed, we might focus a little more attention on that too. Maybe we'd cheat less, fight less, steal less, murder less--you get the point. But, I could be wrong.
Peace,
Jerry+
In the history of the Church, the issue of the relationship between these three entities hasn't always been agreed upon. Not until Nicea in 325 was any attempt made to have an official doctrine agreed on by all. Even then it didn't happen. Arians, a group of Christians who had a different idea about Jesus, were to be stamped out now that orthodoxy had been declared. It didn't work. Basically the Arian movement continued for another couple of centuries as "official" teaching in the Germanic areas of Europe in particular.
Not only that, a group known as monophysites (meaning one nature) continued for centuries and still exist in several regional churches, such as Egypt.
So what? Well in this time when so much is made of orthodoxy and fundamentalism is constantly clashing with other views, it's important to ask a question. Does the requirement for accepting the doctrine of the Trinity to be Christian apply to followers of Jesus before Nicea? And what about the Arians and monophysites? Oh, and what about the United Pentecostals, a modern Pentecostal denomination that rejects this doctrine too? Are we saying all these people aren't saved?
Well, of course we are, if by "we" we mean modern Christian fundamentalist (Pentecostals excepted). The rest of us? Heck, we don't really understand the doctrine anyway and in my experience, most Christians I've known are actually not trinitarian in their belief. They say the Creeds, but in the final analysis, they tend more toward the "three God" belief in practice.
All of which is to say, since Jesus seemed way more interested in how people lived than in what they believed, we might focus a little more attention on that too. Maybe we'd cheat less, fight less, steal less, murder less--you get the point. But, I could be wrong.
Peace,
Jerry+
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Make Over
Surprise! I decided to do a make over on my blog. While mostly cosmetic I did add one feature. You'll find it on the right side of the screen titled "Books I'm Reading." I've listed two I'm reading right now. Both are related to Church History. I promise to also add novels--my guilty pleasure.
God's Secretaries is a fascinating book about the men who were the Translators (in those days they always capitalized the word) for James I, King of England following Elizabeth I. A little backgroud might help here. During Elizabeth's reign, the Puritan movement began in England. The Puritans were not all the same; in fact there were three distinct parties or groups.
Two groups could be called Non-Separatists. One group, by far the larger group, were those who favored keeping the episcopacy and reforming the liturgies, rites and customs to remove most of what was considered "popish." The second Non-Separatist group was composed of those who wanted liturgical reform as did the first, but much more sweeping. Plus, they wanted to adopt a Presbyterian form of government which would eliminate the bishops. This group eventually came to power under Oliver Cromwell and managed to eliminate bishops--and kings--for a time. Unfortunately there was also a Civil War involved before things got back on track.
The third group were the Separatists. These included those who eventually became Congregationalists, along with some Baptists. It was members of this group that we know as the Pilgrims, those who came to American in the early 17th century.
I say all that to say that when James came to power, the Puritans made a bid for reform and it was the Presbyterians who were leading the charge. James gave them a polite hearing, but had no intention of reforming the Church. He'd had a bad experience with Presbyterians in Scotland where he was king and didn't intend to repeat the problem. He appeased them by promising a revision of the Great Bible in English that had been produced under Henry VIII. This book is about his keeping that promise.
The Translators were a fascinating bunch of men--some very pious, some very flawed, but all very dedicated to the task and highly qualified to do the work. Using the Tyndale version on which the Great Bible was based and carefully reviewing all the available Greek and Hebrew manuscripts of the time, they completed their work in just a few years. This is considered to be the first translation done by a committee. All previous ones were the work of a single person, perhaps with a helper or two. Almost all subsequent translations have been done by committee which allows for more rigorous checks and balances. It's a very readable book and offers great insights into the process and the men behind it.
I've only just begun the other book, so perhaps more later.
Peace,
Jerry+
God's Secretaries is a fascinating book about the men who were the Translators (in those days they always capitalized the word) for James I, King of England following Elizabeth I. A little backgroud might help here. During Elizabeth's reign, the Puritan movement began in England. The Puritans were not all the same; in fact there were three distinct parties or groups.
Two groups could be called Non-Separatists. One group, by far the larger group, were those who favored keeping the episcopacy and reforming the liturgies, rites and customs to remove most of what was considered "popish." The second Non-Separatist group was composed of those who wanted liturgical reform as did the first, but much more sweeping. Plus, they wanted to adopt a Presbyterian form of government which would eliminate the bishops. This group eventually came to power under Oliver Cromwell and managed to eliminate bishops--and kings--for a time. Unfortunately there was also a Civil War involved before things got back on track.
The third group were the Separatists. These included those who eventually became Congregationalists, along with some Baptists. It was members of this group that we know as the Pilgrims, those who came to American in the early 17th century.
I say all that to say that when James came to power, the Puritans made a bid for reform and it was the Presbyterians who were leading the charge. James gave them a polite hearing, but had no intention of reforming the Church. He'd had a bad experience with Presbyterians in Scotland where he was king and didn't intend to repeat the problem. He appeased them by promising a revision of the Great Bible in English that had been produced under Henry VIII. This book is about his keeping that promise.
The Translators were a fascinating bunch of men--some very pious, some very flawed, but all very dedicated to the task and highly qualified to do the work. Using the Tyndale version on which the Great Bible was based and carefully reviewing all the available Greek and Hebrew manuscripts of the time, they completed their work in just a few years. This is considered to be the first translation done by a committee. All previous ones were the work of a single person, perhaps with a helper or two. Almost all subsequent translations have been done by committee which allows for more rigorous checks and balances. It's a very readable book and offers great insights into the process and the men behind it.
I've only just begun the other book, so perhaps more later.
Peace,
Jerry+
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
A Pentecost Story: Part 2
If you read the previous post, you know it was about the mysterious working of the Spirit. This is a follow on to that.
Today is my day to lead worship at The Parkview Retirement Community. As I always do, I prepared a sermon in manuscript form. Usually this gets done at least a week in advance, and this time was no exception. But after the event described in the last post, I kept having thoughts about ditching the sermon and telling the story of Linda and the drawing. After thinking it was a good idea, I'd think, "But the sermon is already done and it's good, so..." Then the urge to substitute the story would return. Last night as I gathered all the Eucharistic vessels into my kit and got out my alb and stole, I decided definitively to do the prepared sermon.
With everything laid out last night, when it was time to leave this morning, it was a simple matter of gathering my little stack of bulletins, service book, vestments and heading for the car. Which I did. When I arrived at The Parkview and began setting up, I realized I didn't have the sermon. Usually the service leaflets, sermon and readings for the day are all together, but not this time. No sermon.
Okay. I can take a hint. Those who came to worship today heard the story about Linda and the drawing. They heard it along with the story of my indecision about sermon or story. Together these two little stories had more to say about the mysterious work of the Spirit than any sermon I might have written; plus they were very moved. So, Okay, I can take a hint.
Peace,
Jerry+
Today is my day to lead worship at The Parkview Retirement Community. As I always do, I prepared a sermon in manuscript form. Usually this gets done at least a week in advance, and this time was no exception. But after the event described in the last post, I kept having thoughts about ditching the sermon and telling the story of Linda and the drawing. After thinking it was a good idea, I'd think, "But the sermon is already done and it's good, so..." Then the urge to substitute the story would return. Last night as I gathered all the Eucharistic vessels into my kit and got out my alb and stole, I decided definitively to do the prepared sermon.
With everything laid out last night, when it was time to leave this morning, it was a simple matter of gathering my little stack of bulletins, service book, vestments and heading for the car. Which I did. When I arrived at The Parkview and began setting up, I realized I didn't have the sermon. Usually the service leaflets, sermon and readings for the day are all together, but not this time. No sermon.
Okay. I can take a hint. Those who came to worship today heard the story about Linda and the drawing. They heard it along with the story of my indecision about sermon or story. Together these two little stories had more to say about the mysterious work of the Spirit than any sermon I might have written; plus they were very moved. So, Okay, I can take a hint.
Peace,
Jerry+
Sunday, May 31, 2009
A Pentecost Story
You just never know. I dabble at being an artist. More than 30 years ago I had a creative spurt and produced several oils. I think I have the first ever in the attic; my younger son has a pair. A few years later, I painted a couple of more: one of Moses which I think eventually I threw away and a head of an old fisherman which I gave to a friend. Then nothing for years.
Somewhere around 2002 or 2003, our parish sponsored a charity auction of arts and crafts and I decided to try my hand again after more than 25 years of nothing. Surprisingly, my simple little works sold. Same thing next year with the same outcome. Then a dry spell again. It’s not that I don’t enjoy painting, I do, but like lots of other things I enjoy that have no sense of urgency about them, taking the time to create seems to always be a low priority. Plus, I don’t really think I’m very good so it’s easy to avoid doing something that doesn’t produce much. I’m always surprised when someone likes what I do, especially enough to spend money on it. Candidly, I thought at first it was just the novelty of one of the clergy painting—that plus the good cause the cost went toward.
A few weeks ago our current parish had a silent auction to raise money for my favorite charity—our mission work in Haiti. I decided it was time to dust off the paint box and knock out some stuff. I painted another in a series I had painted before, Tuscan landscape impressions. I’m really taken by the flame shaped poplar trees that are instant reminders of Italy. I also did a couple of others in acrylics. We were asked to set values for the work along with minimum bids. I set two of them at $150 values with $75 minimums. Frankly, I didn’t think they would sell plus I liked them enough that I was willing to take them home.
But today’s story isn’t about any of the paintings. I did a small pencil and pen drawing of a pair of doors set in a wall and intersected by another wall. The attention was on the doors with the stone walls only suggested by a few pencil lines. I probably spent more time on it than the others combined. Like the others, someone bought it. Today I learned who and why.
Her name is Linda. As she walked down the rows of art work, she saw a painting of a closed door. She told me how that seemed to really distress her. She knows about closed doors from a number of painful personal experiences, some of very recent origin. As she walked along with her husband, she kept mentioning the closed door. Then she came to my drawing. “Look!” She said to her husband, “The doors are open! That’s how doors should be!” She fell in love immediately and placed a bid. See, even though she knows about closed doors, she knows about open ones as well.
But before the bids closed they had to leave, so she didn’t know if her bid was the winner or not. Several days later, she received a phone call. Her bid won. In fact, her’s was the only bid. She was thrilled and sent a check for almost three times the bid price she was so happy to have the piece. As she told me the story, I not only felt pleased something I created had impacted somebody so much, but I felt something akin to wonder. Here’s why. When she finished sharing, I said, “Let me tell you the back story to the drawing. When I first sketched it, the doors were closed. But I decided I didn’t like that—didn’t think it had enough visual interest and it seemed lifeless. So I erased the doors and redrew them open.” The look on her face said it all. She was clearly stunned.
“Did you notice the name of the piece?” I asked. She hadn’t. “It’s ‘Come’ I said.” What I didn’t say but thought was, “I named it that because the hope is not found in the closed door or the knocking, but in the open door.” And that’s my Pentecost story—a story of the Spirit reaching into the lives of the unsuspecting and unwitting and using them to touch others.
Peace,
Jerry+
Somewhere around 2002 or 2003, our parish sponsored a charity auction of arts and crafts and I decided to try my hand again after more than 25 years of nothing. Surprisingly, my simple little works sold. Same thing next year with the same outcome. Then a dry spell again. It’s not that I don’t enjoy painting, I do, but like lots of other things I enjoy that have no sense of urgency about them, taking the time to create seems to always be a low priority. Plus, I don’t really think I’m very good so it’s easy to avoid doing something that doesn’t produce much. I’m always surprised when someone likes what I do, especially enough to spend money on it. Candidly, I thought at first it was just the novelty of one of the clergy painting—that plus the good cause the cost went toward.
A few weeks ago our current parish had a silent auction to raise money for my favorite charity—our mission work in Haiti. I decided it was time to dust off the paint box and knock out some stuff. I painted another in a series I had painted before, Tuscan landscape impressions. I’m really taken by the flame shaped poplar trees that are instant reminders of Italy. I also did a couple of others in acrylics. We were asked to set values for the work along with minimum bids. I set two of them at $150 values with $75 minimums. Frankly, I didn’t think they would sell plus I liked them enough that I was willing to take them home.
But today’s story isn’t about any of the paintings. I did a small pencil and pen drawing of a pair of doors set in a wall and intersected by another wall. The attention was on the doors with the stone walls only suggested by a few pencil lines. I probably spent more time on it than the others combined. Like the others, someone bought it. Today I learned who and why.
Her name is Linda. As she walked down the rows of art work, she saw a painting of a closed door. She told me how that seemed to really distress her. She knows about closed doors from a number of painful personal experiences, some of very recent origin. As she walked along with her husband, she kept mentioning the closed door. Then she came to my drawing. “Look!” She said to her husband, “The doors are open! That’s how doors should be!” She fell in love immediately and placed a bid. See, even though she knows about closed doors, she knows about open ones as well.
But before the bids closed they had to leave, so she didn’t know if her bid was the winner or not. Several days later, she received a phone call. Her bid won. In fact, her’s was the only bid. She was thrilled and sent a check for almost three times the bid price she was so happy to have the piece. As she told me the story, I not only felt pleased something I created had impacted somebody so much, but I felt something akin to wonder. Here’s why. When she finished sharing, I said, “Let me tell you the back story to the drawing. When I first sketched it, the doors were closed. But I decided I didn’t like that—didn’t think it had enough visual interest and it seemed lifeless. So I erased the doors and redrew them open.” The look on her face said it all. She was clearly stunned.
“Did you notice the name of the piece?” I asked. She hadn’t. “It’s ‘Come’ I said.” What I didn’t say but thought was, “I named it that because the hope is not found in the closed door or the knocking, but in the open door.” And that’s my Pentecost story—a story of the Spirit reaching into the lives of the unsuspecting and unwitting and using them to touch others.
Peace,
Jerry+
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Dream Dreams
Next Sunday is Pentecost Sunday. Peter is reported in the reading from Acts appointed for that day to quote Joel to help the amazed people understand what is happening as the cosmopolitan crowd each hears the message in their own language. A part of that quote reads, “…I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams.” I love that quotation!
I’ve been one of those “young men” who saw visions, not as literally as the passage seems to suggest, but visions nonetheless. Though I’ve always had a streak of the cynic in me, what many failed to see was the idealism that was there as well. More than once I saw a vision of how a group of fellow Christians, or even fellow humans, could be more than they had been. And once, a long time ago at a slightly rundown campus center, others could see that vision as well. I will go to heaven proud of what the Interfaith Center became—at least for a time. Lives were shaped forever as that vision was realized.
Now I’m at the other end of God’s promise, “old men shall dream dreams.” My father didn’t live much past the age I am now. And as much as I loved and admired him, I don’t think as an old man he had any dreams left. My older brother seemed not to have dreams either once he reached my age. They are the old men with whom I have most personal history and experience. But I find my imagination still outpaces my actual opportunities. I mentioned to a friend just yesterday that, out to pasture I may be, but I find I still feel as if I have more to do and to give for the sake of a better world. Alas, and I don’t mean for this to seem as if I’m feeling sorry for myself, I don’t see situations in which I could give as much as I feel I have to give. Not that I can do nothing—I still teach and train. But it doesn’t feel the same.
So, if this is not a blog about frustrated I feel, what is it? I mean for it to be a blog about visions and dreams. I have the dreams and I hope to find a way. You have visions and dreams, too. Find you opportunities and pursue them for the Kingdom’s sake.
Peace,
Jerry+
I’ve been one of those “young men” who saw visions, not as literally as the passage seems to suggest, but visions nonetheless. Though I’ve always had a streak of the cynic in me, what many failed to see was the idealism that was there as well. More than once I saw a vision of how a group of fellow Christians, or even fellow humans, could be more than they had been. And once, a long time ago at a slightly rundown campus center, others could see that vision as well. I will go to heaven proud of what the Interfaith Center became—at least for a time. Lives were shaped forever as that vision was realized.
Now I’m at the other end of God’s promise, “old men shall dream dreams.” My father didn’t live much past the age I am now. And as much as I loved and admired him, I don’t think as an old man he had any dreams left. My older brother seemed not to have dreams either once he reached my age. They are the old men with whom I have most personal history and experience. But I find my imagination still outpaces my actual opportunities. I mentioned to a friend just yesterday that, out to pasture I may be, but I find I still feel as if I have more to do and to give for the sake of a better world. Alas, and I don’t mean for this to seem as if I’m feeling sorry for myself, I don’t see situations in which I could give as much as I feel I have to give. Not that I can do nothing—I still teach and train. But it doesn’t feel the same.
So, if this is not a blog about frustrated I feel, what is it? I mean for it to be a blog about visions and dreams. I have the dreams and I hope to find a way. You have visions and dreams, too. Find you opportunities and pursue them for the Kingdom’s sake.
Peace,
Jerry+
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
You Never Know
Today is my day for leading worship at the Parkview Retirement Community. Among other things, it means it's a day I wear a clerical collar. It feels a bit strange since its only twice a month when it used to be almost every day. Just as it felt strange to not wear it when I retired after so many years of doing so. But that's not what this blog is about.
When worship and conversation were over and I started home, I decided to grab a burger at Wendy's. I ordered and rolled up to the window to pay and get my food. Completely uneventful. Behind the person at the window was another woman. She saw me and said, "The Lord sent you to me. I need a prayer!" I first thought she was joking, but realized her expression said, "This is real." She came over to the window and she said, "I need a prayer." I asked, "Can you tell me what you need to pray for?" "My mother. My mother's just a mess."
I asked her name and her mother's name, reached out my hand and took hers and said a prayer for Lisa and her mom. "Did the other girl already get your money," Lisa asked? "I'm going to give this to you free." I'd already paid. "Then how about a drink? I can give you a drink." I said, "No thank you; I'm on the way home. Besides, God doesn't charge for hearing prayers."
It was a strange and moving moment. In the "old days" of collar wearing, things like this happened now and then. Always caught me off guard. But always reminded me of how much pain there is in the world and how hungry people are to be in touch with God. It reminded me, too, of how much clergy were once viewed pretty widely: having a hot line to God. Maybe there is still more of that than I believe. I don't know. I do know this, Lisa and I connected over the gulf of our genders, age, race and occupation. God brought us together for that minute or so and I want to believe she and I will always be a little bit different because of it.
You never know.
Peace,
Jerry+
When worship and conversation were over and I started home, I decided to grab a burger at Wendy's. I ordered and rolled up to the window to pay and get my food. Completely uneventful. Behind the person at the window was another woman. She saw me and said, "The Lord sent you to me. I need a prayer!" I first thought she was joking, but realized her expression said, "This is real." She came over to the window and she said, "I need a prayer." I asked, "Can you tell me what you need to pray for?" "My mother. My mother's just a mess."
I asked her name and her mother's name, reached out my hand and took hers and said a prayer for Lisa and her mom. "Did the other girl already get your money," Lisa asked? "I'm going to give this to you free." I'd already paid. "Then how about a drink? I can give you a drink." I said, "No thank you; I'm on the way home. Besides, God doesn't charge for hearing prayers."
It was a strange and moving moment. In the "old days" of collar wearing, things like this happened now and then. Always caught me off guard. But always reminded me of how much pain there is in the world and how hungry people are to be in touch with God. It reminded me, too, of how much clergy were once viewed pretty widely: having a hot line to God. Maybe there is still more of that than I believe. I don't know. I do know this, Lisa and I connected over the gulf of our genders, age, race and occupation. God brought us together for that minute or so and I want to believe she and I will always be a little bit different because of it.
You never know.
Peace,
Jerry+
Thursday, May 14, 2009
A Good Game
It's the end of a long day and I'm tired. I've just completed an all day workshop for the Navy Personnel Command on Mentoring. The evaluations were full of "excellents" and I had a good time; who could ask for more. Plus, I get paid.
The Navpercom [get it?] had decreed that every military person in the command (about 1000) be required to take this training. Every civilian employee (3000 or so) may if they wish. The training covers certain skills that I determined Mentors and Proteges should have to have a successful relationship. So far in the two sessions I've done, about 3 military and about 15 civilians have participated.
I believe that mentoring someone is a highly desirable thing--if you're any good at it. And I believe that being a protege is a highly desirable thing if you want to get a leg up in your chosen field. A lot of mentoring goes on informally in Navpercom and in business anyway, but the Navy, believing it is a good thing, has institutionalized the idea.
Good for them. Unfortunately, there are no teeth in the mandate, that is, there are no consequences for non-participation. The three military were not high ranking officers who could see that others they command participate. In fact, the Cmdr who's in charge wasn't there--which I find a little odd. So why am I writing about this? Well, not to tell you how your tax dollars are being spent.
I'm writing because what's happening here is so typical of the "real world" in general and perhaps the Church in particular. Lots of agreement about what's highly desirable: peace, justice, mercy, security, opportunity, just to name a few things. But not much going on to promote the actual accomplishment of these things. If you look at a typical parish budget, you'll be hard pressed to find 10% of the budget dedicated to outreach. Almost all the bucks just keep the doors open. And, as you probably know, most of what good is done by the parishioners is done by less than 20% of those, while the other 80% get to bask in the glow of a "caring community."
End of rant, but here's hoping you consider the validity of what I've said and see what you can do to change the way things are.
Peace,
Jerry+
The Navpercom [get it?] had decreed that every military person in the command (about 1000) be required to take this training. Every civilian employee (3000 or so) may if they wish. The training covers certain skills that I determined Mentors and Proteges should have to have a successful relationship. So far in the two sessions I've done, about 3 military and about 15 civilians have participated.
I believe that mentoring someone is a highly desirable thing--if you're any good at it. And I believe that being a protege is a highly desirable thing if you want to get a leg up in your chosen field. A lot of mentoring goes on informally in Navpercom and in business anyway, but the Navy, believing it is a good thing, has institutionalized the idea.
Good for them. Unfortunately, there are no teeth in the mandate, that is, there are no consequences for non-participation. The three military were not high ranking officers who could see that others they command participate. In fact, the Cmdr who's in charge wasn't there--which I find a little odd. So why am I writing about this? Well, not to tell you how your tax dollars are being spent.
I'm writing because what's happening here is so typical of the "real world" in general and perhaps the Church in particular. Lots of agreement about what's highly desirable: peace, justice, mercy, security, opportunity, just to name a few things. But not much going on to promote the actual accomplishment of these things. If you look at a typical parish budget, you'll be hard pressed to find 10% of the budget dedicated to outreach. Almost all the bucks just keep the doors open. And, as you probably know, most of what good is done by the parishioners is done by less than 20% of those, while the other 80% get to bask in the glow of a "caring community."
End of rant, but here's hoping you consider the validity of what I've said and see what you can do to change the way things are.
Peace,
Jerry+
Monday, May 4, 2009
50-1
The TV was on and the preshow of the Kentucky Derby playing. I happened to look up as I walked through the room and noticed the line up and the odds. One popped out. There was a horse with 50-1 odds.
Carol, my wife, was in the room sort of watching and I pointed out the 50-1 horse and said, "Why even bother?"
Well now we know. Against all odds, the dog in the race won, going away!
I couldn't help thinking about this the next day as I worked on a sermon. Against all odds, an strange assortment of Jews decided the resurrection of Jesus needed to be remembered and it needed to be shared with others. The world changed because of that decision.
More reflection brought more examples of "against all odds" in my own life. While not every long shot has worked out well, far more did than didn't. Perhaps for those of us who still struggle with problems in our lives and in our communities, we can remember that just because the odds are against us doesn't mean we don't give the important things in life a shot. Who knows? We could achieve what we wish for and believe in "going away."
Peace,
Jerry+
Carol, my wife, was in the room sort of watching and I pointed out the 50-1 horse and said, "Why even bother?"
Well now we know. Against all odds, the dog in the race won, going away!
I couldn't help thinking about this the next day as I worked on a sermon. Against all odds, an strange assortment of Jews decided the resurrection of Jesus needed to be remembered and it needed to be shared with others. The world changed because of that decision.
More reflection brought more examples of "against all odds" in my own life. While not every long shot has worked out well, far more did than didn't. Perhaps for those of us who still struggle with problems in our lives and in our communities, we can remember that just because the odds are against us doesn't mean we don't give the important things in life a shot. Who knows? We could achieve what we wish for and believe in "going away."
Peace,
Jerry+
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Open Minds
There is an interesting phrase in the Gospel reading for last Sunday, Easter 3: “then he opened their minds to understand the scriptures.” I wonder why he hadn’t done it sooner? I mean throughout their time together, the twelve are often pictured as failing to understand, or misunderstanding, or bumbling along with only partial understanding. Wouldn’t it have been easier on everybody if Jesus had open their minds at the very beginning? Or maybe at the Last Supper? Or at least somewhere along the way?
The more I thought about it, the less literal I decided to take this. I think maybe Luke was using a metaphor. Then I remembered a story that might help it all make sense. It’s a story told of an explorer who a century ago had just returned to his country from the Amazon.
The people at home were eager to learn all about the vast and mighty river and the country surrounding it. But how he wondered, could he ever describe it to them - how could he ever put into words the feelings that flooded into his heart when he saw the exotic flowers and heard the night sounds of the jungle. How could he communicate to them the smells the filled the air and the sense of danger and excitement that would come whenever he and his fellows explorers encountered strange animals or paddled through treacherous rapids?
So the explorer did what all good explorers do - he said to the people, "go and find out for yourselves what it is like," and to help them he drew a map of the river pointing out the various features of its course and describing some of the dangers and some of the routes that could be used to avoid those dangers.
The people took the map and they framed and hung on the wall of the local science museum so that everyone could look at it. Some made copies of it. After a period of time many of those who made copies for themselves considered themselves experts on the river – and indeed they knew its every turn and bend, they knew how broad it was and how deep, where the rapids were and where the falls were. They knew the river and they instructed others in what it was like whenever those people indicated an interest in it. But the reality was, of course, they had no idea what the area was like—they had no frame of reference.
Until Jesus was actually resurrected and the disciples actually saw him, could they really understand what he had been saying? I think it would be a lot like looking at that map. Or maybe, to use a more contemporary example, it would be like watching a Discovery Channel story on the pyramids of Egypt and think you really understand how big they are.
Maybe the question for us is that: are we looking at an ancient map or a TV program when it comes to our faith in Jesus’ resurrection? Or have we too had actual living encounters with him? In Luke, the disciples first thought Jesus was ghost or apparition, insubstantial and unreal. Luke is at pains to point out that Jesus is very substantial. Jesus shows his wounds and invites them to touch him. Then to top it off, he eats some fish. What more proof could he give that this Jesus was the same Jesus they had spent time with before the crucifixion? That he had really come back from death?
But what about us? How do we see Jesus two thousand years later? Please forgive my abruptness, but it’s by opening our eyes. Jesus said we would encounter hungry people, thirsty people, people in prison and if we would pay attention, we would notice it was him. When we have looked through our tears into the eyes of a friend who is comforting us, we can see Jesus. Jesus knew the dark of night and the pain of abandonment, so when we face our darkest nights and feel most alone, if we open our eyes we can see him standing with us. And though we may not be able to touch him, we can actually feel his strong arms and rough, but gentle hands touch us.
And perhaps, for many of us, the Collect for Sunday reminds us of a most meaningful way. “O God, whose blessed Son made himself known to his disciples in the breaking of bread…” When I take the cup and feel the warmth of the wine trickle down my throat, it is a moment when I am very aware of his presence in my life, warming me and strengthening me. And the rest of the Collect of the Day is a prayer that can be ours everyday if we want an encounter with the living Christ: “Open the eyes of our faith that we may behold him in all his redeeming work”--including his redeeming work that has made us his.
Peace,
Jerry+
The more I thought about it, the less literal I decided to take this. I think maybe Luke was using a metaphor. Then I remembered a story that might help it all make sense. It’s a story told of an explorer who a century ago had just returned to his country from the Amazon.
The people at home were eager to learn all about the vast and mighty river and the country surrounding it. But how he wondered, could he ever describe it to them - how could he ever put into words the feelings that flooded into his heart when he saw the exotic flowers and heard the night sounds of the jungle. How could he communicate to them the smells the filled the air and the sense of danger and excitement that would come whenever he and his fellows explorers encountered strange animals or paddled through treacherous rapids?
So the explorer did what all good explorers do - he said to the people, "go and find out for yourselves what it is like," and to help them he drew a map of the river pointing out the various features of its course and describing some of the dangers and some of the routes that could be used to avoid those dangers.
The people took the map and they framed and hung on the wall of the local science museum so that everyone could look at it. Some made copies of it. After a period of time many of those who made copies for themselves considered themselves experts on the river – and indeed they knew its every turn and bend, they knew how broad it was and how deep, where the rapids were and where the falls were. They knew the river and they instructed others in what it was like whenever those people indicated an interest in it. But the reality was, of course, they had no idea what the area was like—they had no frame of reference.
Until Jesus was actually resurrected and the disciples actually saw him, could they really understand what he had been saying? I think it would be a lot like looking at that map. Or maybe, to use a more contemporary example, it would be like watching a Discovery Channel story on the pyramids of Egypt and think you really understand how big they are.
Maybe the question for us is that: are we looking at an ancient map or a TV program when it comes to our faith in Jesus’ resurrection? Or have we too had actual living encounters with him? In Luke, the disciples first thought Jesus was ghost or apparition, insubstantial and unreal. Luke is at pains to point out that Jesus is very substantial. Jesus shows his wounds and invites them to touch him. Then to top it off, he eats some fish. What more proof could he give that this Jesus was the same Jesus they had spent time with before the crucifixion? That he had really come back from death?
But what about us? How do we see Jesus two thousand years later? Please forgive my abruptness, but it’s by opening our eyes. Jesus said we would encounter hungry people, thirsty people, people in prison and if we would pay attention, we would notice it was him. When we have looked through our tears into the eyes of a friend who is comforting us, we can see Jesus. Jesus knew the dark of night and the pain of abandonment, so when we face our darkest nights and feel most alone, if we open our eyes we can see him standing with us. And though we may not be able to touch him, we can actually feel his strong arms and rough, but gentle hands touch us.
And perhaps, for many of us, the Collect for Sunday reminds us of a most meaningful way. “O God, whose blessed Son made himself known to his disciples in the breaking of bread…” When I take the cup and feel the warmth of the wine trickle down my throat, it is a moment when I am very aware of his presence in my life, warming me and strengthening me. And the rest of the Collect of the Day is a prayer that can be ours everyday if we want an encounter with the living Christ: “Open the eyes of our faith that we may behold him in all his redeeming work”--including his redeeming work that has made us his.
Peace,
Jerry+
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
New Life: Part 2
Today I led a worship service at a retirement community. It wasn’t a first. From sometime in 2002 until March of 2008 I was there at least once a month and for several years, twice a month. When I retired last April, I stopped going. I really believed my work there was an extension of my parish work and that it essentially belonged to the parish to continue it. It didn’t.
A year passed and just before Lent began one of the regular worshippers called and asked if I would return. There had been no worship and no Communion since I left. They had tried to get a clergy to show some interest, but it hadn’t happened. I said yes. Today was my third time in this new sequence. And there was something different about today I want to share.
But first, let me tell you what it’s like. At its peak, attendance was about 17 or 18. Because most residents are older, now and then there would be a death or a transfer to a nursing home and somebody new would wander in to replace them. The number was steady, but then began to slowly decline. By March of 2008, the attendance was about 12 or 13. The truth is I didn’t and don’t really care how many come.
The make up of worshippers is a mixture of Episcopalians, United Methodists, Presbyterians, some Catholics, and now and then a Baptist or two. Most are women. A couple are on walkers, one or two on canes, and some just move slowly. There is a kind of core group of five or six who are there every time. It was this group who got together and asked me to return. The administration of the Community is supportive, even happy for me to be there.
I began this time, I agreed to come once a month. But as I thought about it, I felt drawn to go more often. I know how important it is for me to worship and to take the sacrament and I felt that from these folks too. When I went for the first time in April, I told them I’d be willing to come twice a month if they wanted it. And they did. Today was my second time this month.
When I met with them a couple of weeks ago to see if they wanted twice a month, I was a little surprised by their enthusiasm for it—and humbled too. They vowed they would work to build the community so “it’d be worth my time.” And then today arrived and as worship began we had 17 souls, at least a third of whom were first time attendees.
How’d it happen? They put up notices in the usual spots, of course, but mostly they went table to table, person to person at dinner last evening and breakfast today inviting, encouraging, and promising something good would happen if people came. Coincidentally with this, I’m writing lectures for my upcoming class in the Early Church History. How did a rag tag bunch of 20 or 30 believers manage to start and sustain a world wide religion? Going table to table, person to person, and promising, that’s how.
How was attendance at your church last Sunday? As we read reports in the news magazines and newspapers about how Christianity is on the decline in this country and church attendance is at an all time low, we might wonder what it would take to change that. We have a couple of good models to consider.
Peace,
Jerry+
A year passed and just before Lent began one of the regular worshippers called and asked if I would return. There had been no worship and no Communion since I left. They had tried to get a clergy to show some interest, but it hadn’t happened. I said yes. Today was my third time in this new sequence. And there was something different about today I want to share.
But first, let me tell you what it’s like. At its peak, attendance was about 17 or 18. Because most residents are older, now and then there would be a death or a transfer to a nursing home and somebody new would wander in to replace them. The number was steady, but then began to slowly decline. By March of 2008, the attendance was about 12 or 13. The truth is I didn’t and don’t really care how many come.
The make up of worshippers is a mixture of Episcopalians, United Methodists, Presbyterians, some Catholics, and now and then a Baptist or two. Most are women. A couple are on walkers, one or two on canes, and some just move slowly. There is a kind of core group of five or six who are there every time. It was this group who got together and asked me to return. The administration of the Community is supportive, even happy for me to be there.
I began this time, I agreed to come once a month. But as I thought about it, I felt drawn to go more often. I know how important it is for me to worship and to take the sacrament and I felt that from these folks too. When I went for the first time in April, I told them I’d be willing to come twice a month if they wanted it. And they did. Today was my second time this month.
When I met with them a couple of weeks ago to see if they wanted twice a month, I was a little surprised by their enthusiasm for it—and humbled too. They vowed they would work to build the community so “it’d be worth my time.” And then today arrived and as worship began we had 17 souls, at least a third of whom were first time attendees.
How’d it happen? They put up notices in the usual spots, of course, but mostly they went table to table, person to person at dinner last evening and breakfast today inviting, encouraging, and promising something good would happen if people came. Coincidentally with this, I’m writing lectures for my upcoming class in the Early Church History. How did a rag tag bunch of 20 or 30 believers manage to start and sustain a world wide religion? Going table to table, person to person, and promising, that’s how.
How was attendance at your church last Sunday? As we read reports in the news magazines and newspapers about how Christianity is on the decline in this country and church attendance is at an all time low, we might wonder what it would take to change that. We have a couple of good models to consider.
Peace,
Jerry+
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
New Life
This time last year, I was in my first week of retirement from the parish. I was more than a little lost. There were lots of projects around the house I’d let slide that could occupy my time. There was a course in the Fall at the seminary I needed to prepare for. The blog gave me a chance to theologize a little. But with all that, there was a vacuum.
Gone was the weekly preparation for and teaching of the adult ed Sunday class I’d taught for years. Gone was the almost weekly homily for a weekday Eucharist and the once a month sermon for Sunday morning’s multiple services. An equally big loss I felt was the daily contact with other staff members and parishioners. They were my friends and suddenly I didn’t see them or talk to them anymore. In a real sense, life seemed, if not over, certainly diminished.
Easter Sunday is just past and this is Easter week. Both are times of thinking about resurrection and the new life that results.
In today’s Gospel, Jesus tells Mary not to cling to him. He has a new life to pursue, an ascended life. In another Gospel, he tells her to tell his followers to meet him in Galilee. There he will commission them for new work.
That’s what’s happened to me. I have new work. Life didn’t end after all. It certainly changed, but it didn’t end. Just as in death and resurrection. I’m teaching, both at the Seminary, and a short class at the church we attend. The University of Memphis keeps me busy leading workshops that help people improve their lives. Parkview Retirement Community has asked me to lead a worship service twice a month for them—something I’d done for years before retiring. Thinking I would like never preach or celebrate again was a real loss, but in my new life I get to keep doing it after all.
Life is different. I still miss my friends, though we stay in touch with emails and the occasional lunch or after work drink. But I’ve discovered I can still feel productive and useful and have the sense that I’m still doing the work I was called to do.
I hope you can have that same sense of new life as you reflect on the meaning of Easter.
Peace,
Jerry+
Gone was the weekly preparation for and teaching of the adult ed Sunday class I’d taught for years. Gone was the almost weekly homily for a weekday Eucharist and the once a month sermon for Sunday morning’s multiple services. An equally big loss I felt was the daily contact with other staff members and parishioners. They were my friends and suddenly I didn’t see them or talk to them anymore. In a real sense, life seemed, if not over, certainly diminished.
Easter Sunday is just past and this is Easter week. Both are times of thinking about resurrection and the new life that results.
In today’s Gospel, Jesus tells Mary not to cling to him. He has a new life to pursue, an ascended life. In another Gospel, he tells her to tell his followers to meet him in Galilee. There he will commission them for new work.
That’s what’s happened to me. I have new work. Life didn’t end after all. It certainly changed, but it didn’t end. Just as in death and resurrection. I’m teaching, both at the Seminary, and a short class at the church we attend. The University of Memphis keeps me busy leading workshops that help people improve their lives. Parkview Retirement Community has asked me to lead a worship service twice a month for them—something I’d done for years before retiring. Thinking I would like never preach or celebrate again was a real loss, but in my new life I get to keep doing it after all.
Life is different. I still miss my friends, though we stay in touch with emails and the occasional lunch or after work drink. But I’ve discovered I can still feel productive and useful and have the sense that I’m still doing the work I was called to do.
I hope you can have that same sense of new life as you reflect on the meaning of Easter.
Peace,
Jerry+
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Christ Crucified
Today is Tuesday in Holy Week and the Epistle is from Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians1:18-31. In it he writes, “For Jews demanded signs and Greeks desired wisdom, but we proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling block to the Jews and foolishness to the Gentiles.” Paul often mentions crucifixion and it may seem strange that he focuses on it. On another occasion he even said, “I’m determined to nothing among you except Christ crucified.” What’s this about?
What we have to know to make sense of this is that Paul couldn’t separate resurrection from crucifixion. Whenever Paul mentions crucifixion, it’s shorthand for “and resurrection.” They are always linked for Paul and should be for us too. In their recent book, The First Paul, Marcus Borg and Dom Crossan help us understand this obsession of Paul for the crucifixion. I’m indebted to them for the following thoughts.
For Paul, “Christ crucified” was a reminded that his death was the action of Imperial Rome. Only Rome crucified; only the empire that thought peace was a product of war, war in which Rome was the victor. To say that Christ was crucified was to proclaim that Jesus died because he was against everything that Imperial Rome stood for. And the cross was Rome’s way of saying “no” to everything Jesus stood for. But, resurrection was God’s way of saying “yes” to Jesus and “no” to the powers that had killed him. It was a system of domination and violence that killed Jesus. It was a God of peace and love that resurrected him.
The wisdom of this world that Paul mentions is the idea a few, in this case, the rulers of Rome, should dominate the many. That wisdom also says that it should be done through violence and threats of violence. Peace, the Pax Romano, brought by Rome, was stability, but a stability through conquest and power. This is the wisdom that Paul calls foolish; in fact the word he uses is the root word for our word “moronic.” The wisdom of this world is stupid, moronic, and brutal, Paul says.
Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection have the effect of revealing a new way to a life of peace—not stability, but peace. We are called to this same dying and rising which Paul calls the means to life “in Christ.” As he puts it, “It is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me.” For Paul, in our baptism, we symbolized our being “buried with him.” As we emerge from the baptism, we are raised from the dead so we might walk in newness of life. It’s similar to getting a heart transplant! But it is Christ’s spirit that is transplanted in us say Borg and Crossan.
I think they’re on to something. But, if all this has been too much a theological excursion and word game, let me break it down. Jesus came to reveal the nature and character of God. God had tried other ways to communicate with us, through the law and through the prophets, for example, but we didn’t really get it. Then he became incarnate in Jesus to perfectly reveal his character to us. Jesus’ crucifixion reveals God’s character as love and his passion as the re-creation of the world. He didn’t die in our place, he died for us, in the same way someone might plunge into a river to save a drowning person and in the process, drown himself. Just as this person died so the drowning person could live, Jesus died so we could live a new and different kind of life.
Paul sums it up this way in 2nd Corinthians, “So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see everything has become new!...All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ…nothing will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
Our task during Lent, especially during Holy Week is to search our lives. To reflect on the wonder of God’s immeasurable love for us and know that we do nothing to earn it except be alive. And it is to reflect on the agony and pain Jesus experienced, especially the last few days of his life, as he tried to make that as plain to us as he could. He died to give us life, to give life to the whole of God’s creation, to create new people for the New Jerusalem.
At the dawn of Easter, we might reflect on the wonder of God’s victory over creation—a victory not won by power and brutality, but by love and grace. And as we rise from our reflection, we will want to make sure that we are living the life that a person with the Spirit of God inside would live.
It's not so much about being good as doing good--doing what Jesus would have done. We will look for ways to give comfort to the comfortless, succor to those who suffer. We will wipe away tears from the eyes of those who weep, give the shelter of companionship to those who are alone. And when they come to us asking to see Jesus, as the Greeks did in today’s Gospel reading, we will be able to show them Jesus in us.
Peace,
Jerry+
What we have to know to make sense of this is that Paul couldn’t separate resurrection from crucifixion. Whenever Paul mentions crucifixion, it’s shorthand for “and resurrection.” They are always linked for Paul and should be for us too. In their recent book, The First Paul, Marcus Borg and Dom Crossan help us understand this obsession of Paul for the crucifixion. I’m indebted to them for the following thoughts.
For Paul, “Christ crucified” was a reminded that his death was the action of Imperial Rome. Only Rome crucified; only the empire that thought peace was a product of war, war in which Rome was the victor. To say that Christ was crucified was to proclaim that Jesus died because he was against everything that Imperial Rome stood for. And the cross was Rome’s way of saying “no” to everything Jesus stood for. But, resurrection was God’s way of saying “yes” to Jesus and “no” to the powers that had killed him. It was a system of domination and violence that killed Jesus. It was a God of peace and love that resurrected him.
The wisdom of this world that Paul mentions is the idea a few, in this case, the rulers of Rome, should dominate the many. That wisdom also says that it should be done through violence and threats of violence. Peace, the Pax Romano, brought by Rome, was stability, but a stability through conquest and power. This is the wisdom that Paul calls foolish; in fact the word he uses is the root word for our word “moronic.” The wisdom of this world is stupid, moronic, and brutal, Paul says.
Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection have the effect of revealing a new way to a life of peace—not stability, but peace. We are called to this same dying and rising which Paul calls the means to life “in Christ.” As he puts it, “It is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me.” For Paul, in our baptism, we symbolized our being “buried with him.” As we emerge from the baptism, we are raised from the dead so we might walk in newness of life. It’s similar to getting a heart transplant! But it is Christ’s spirit that is transplanted in us say Borg and Crossan.
I think they’re on to something. But, if all this has been too much a theological excursion and word game, let me break it down. Jesus came to reveal the nature and character of God. God had tried other ways to communicate with us, through the law and through the prophets, for example, but we didn’t really get it. Then he became incarnate in Jesus to perfectly reveal his character to us. Jesus’ crucifixion reveals God’s character as love and his passion as the re-creation of the world. He didn’t die in our place, he died for us, in the same way someone might plunge into a river to save a drowning person and in the process, drown himself. Just as this person died so the drowning person could live, Jesus died so we could live a new and different kind of life.
Paul sums it up this way in 2nd Corinthians, “So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see everything has become new!...All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ…nothing will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
Our task during Lent, especially during Holy Week is to search our lives. To reflect on the wonder of God’s immeasurable love for us and know that we do nothing to earn it except be alive. And it is to reflect on the agony and pain Jesus experienced, especially the last few days of his life, as he tried to make that as plain to us as he could. He died to give us life, to give life to the whole of God’s creation, to create new people for the New Jerusalem.
At the dawn of Easter, we might reflect on the wonder of God’s victory over creation—a victory not won by power and brutality, but by love and grace. And as we rise from our reflection, we will want to make sure that we are living the life that a person with the Spirit of God inside would live.
It's not so much about being good as doing good--doing what Jesus would have done. We will look for ways to give comfort to the comfortless, succor to those who suffer. We will wipe away tears from the eyes of those who weep, give the shelter of companionship to those who are alone. And when they come to us asking to see Jesus, as the Greeks did in today’s Gospel reading, we will be able to show them Jesus in us.
Peace,
Jerry+
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
The Crowds
Well, the big news in my hometown is that our beloved basketball coach is probably leaving for the University of Kentucky. As recently as Thursday, Cal, as he’s known, made it plain that he loves Memphis and is very happy here. Of course that was before the U of K offered him as much as $40M over the next 8 years to come there. While I’m disappointed that he’s leaving—he’ll take his staff and most of the top recruiting class he had planned for Memphis—that’s not my major disappointment.
My major disappointment has to do with priorities--and not even his. The media have been going nuts over the pending decision. TV reporters are camped out at the University and Cal’s home. One station put a webcam up showing the door to his home to catch him coming or going. Reports have been coming in all day for two days—its headline news. Well, yes. It is a big deal when a major university known for its powerhouse basketball team loses its head coach. But.
But, what? Over the past weekend, while some of this was beginning to develop, 5000 women of various races, theological backgrounds, and ages gathered in Memphis to promote racial unity and harmony in our city. A city which is continuously torn by the playing of the “race card” and can find racial overtones and undercurrents in almost everything. Yet, 5000 women got together and said, “Enough. Let’s look for ways to reconcile, to grow together to get past the past.” And the media response? Just about what you’d expect. Almost nothing was written or televised about it. I’m not surprised, but I am disappointed.
It reminded me of the Gospel for this coming Sunday. When Jesus enters Jerusalem the people go crazy. Palm branches, shouts of “Hosanna!” Lots of excitement. And there is a crowd when he is tried too. They shout “Crucify him!” But where is the crowd when, a few days later, he is reported resurrected? I’d think that would be a major deal too. But, beyond the few faithful, nobody notices. As the story is told, people respond to it, but at the time—no crowds, no shouts, no nothing.
Maybe that’s what will happen here. Cal will decide and leave and we’ll get a new coach. He’ll rebuild and we’ll be a contender again. And while the papers and TV are reporting each step of the way, these women and those they influence will be about the more important business of peace-making. All without fanfare. One can only hope. And pray.
Peace,
Jerry+
My major disappointment has to do with priorities--and not even his. The media have been going nuts over the pending decision. TV reporters are camped out at the University and Cal’s home. One station put a webcam up showing the door to his home to catch him coming or going. Reports have been coming in all day for two days—its headline news. Well, yes. It is a big deal when a major university known for its powerhouse basketball team loses its head coach. But.
But, what? Over the past weekend, while some of this was beginning to develop, 5000 women of various races, theological backgrounds, and ages gathered in Memphis to promote racial unity and harmony in our city. A city which is continuously torn by the playing of the “race card” and can find racial overtones and undercurrents in almost everything. Yet, 5000 women got together and said, “Enough. Let’s look for ways to reconcile, to grow together to get past the past.” And the media response? Just about what you’d expect. Almost nothing was written or televised about it. I’m not surprised, but I am disappointed.
It reminded me of the Gospel for this coming Sunday. When Jesus enters Jerusalem the people go crazy. Palm branches, shouts of “Hosanna!” Lots of excitement. And there is a crowd when he is tried too. They shout “Crucify him!” But where is the crowd when, a few days later, he is reported resurrected? I’d think that would be a major deal too. But, beyond the few faithful, nobody notices. As the story is told, people respond to it, but at the time—no crowds, no shouts, no nothing.
Maybe that’s what will happen here. Cal will decide and leave and we’ll get a new coach. He’ll rebuild and we’ll be a contender again. And while the papers and TV are reporting each step of the way, these women and those they influence will be about the more important business of peace-making. All without fanfare. One can only hope. And pray.
Peace,
Jerry+
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Seeing Jesus
They tell Philip they want to see Jesus in this coming Sunday's Gospel reading. We see him already, we think, but maybe seeing in a new light would be helpful.
A lot of people I talk to don’t care much for Lent. They don’t like the Holy Week services, especially the Maundy Thursday stripping of the altar. Good Friday’s stark vision of a wooden cross, as sounds of the hammer echoes in the church seems far too ugly and dark for them. Easter, now that’s different. Beautiful music with extra instruments, hymns and anthems of hope and life. The gold of the cross gleams unveiled again in the procession and on the altar. It’s uplifting. Yes, it is uplifting, inspiring, bright, refreshing, vibrant—what’s not to like?
But, none of these Easter moments can happen if Jesus doesn’t go to the garden and, with great torment, so much so that he sweats blood, dies to himself. As much as he loves life, he will not cling to it for his sake; instead he lets go for our sake. As much as he might want to have more time with his disciples to proclaim his message, he knows he cannot have it without eternal peril to himself and us. Instead he faces the inevitable and he tells the Greeks, “it is for this reason that I have come to this hour….” that is, it is because I love you more than life itself, that I have come to this hour.”
There is no Easter resurrection without the waving of palm branches and the subsequent cry of “crucify him!” from those very same people. There is no Easter resurrection without Jesus experiencing Maundy Thursday’s betrayal by Judas and by sleeping friends who cannot stay awake for him one hour. There is no Easter resurrection without Good Friday’s abandonment by the inner circle of friends. There is no Easter resurrection without Jesus’ torture, suffering, and death. There is no Easter resurrection without Jesus hanging limp and bleeding on the cross.
It may be we have lost something important when we, unlike our Roman brothers and sisters, view the empty cross. Their use of a crucifix requires them to focus on the horror inflicted on Jesus, on death’s apparent victory much more than we. Maybe we have sanitized his sacrifice too much by venerating an empty golden cross. Maybe we spend too little time remembering the terrible cost to him because we focus to much on the benefit to us. I don’t know what the balance should be between these things.
But at this season, somewhere between sweet little Jesus in the manger and glorious Jesus robed in white, ascending to heaven, somewhere between these images, I think we would do well to focus more on the cost. And this is precisely that time of the year to see Jesus in a new light. A light that illumines the broken body, streaked with sweat, spittle, and his life’s blood. A face looking down, weighed by the crown that slices into his scalp. A face streaked with tears as he says goodbye to his mother. Parched lips that mutter a prayer and a sigh too deep for words. A chest that heaves its last and is violated by a spear. A body hanging in death, swarmed by flies who cannot wait for the warmth of life to ebb away, replaced by the cold of death.
I want to keep that image in front of me for more than the service of Good Friday. Maybe when I hear the crisp snap when the host is broken during the Eucharist, I want to remember his unspeakable anguish and the incredible love for me that it represents. Maybe then, I can leave worship, seeing my responsibly to love and serve in a new light.
Peace,
Jerry+
A lot of people I talk to don’t care much for Lent. They don’t like the Holy Week services, especially the Maundy Thursday stripping of the altar. Good Friday’s stark vision of a wooden cross, as sounds of the hammer echoes in the church seems far too ugly and dark for them. Easter, now that’s different. Beautiful music with extra instruments, hymns and anthems of hope and life. The gold of the cross gleams unveiled again in the procession and on the altar. It’s uplifting. Yes, it is uplifting, inspiring, bright, refreshing, vibrant—what’s not to like?
But, none of these Easter moments can happen if Jesus doesn’t go to the garden and, with great torment, so much so that he sweats blood, dies to himself. As much as he loves life, he will not cling to it for his sake; instead he lets go for our sake. As much as he might want to have more time with his disciples to proclaim his message, he knows he cannot have it without eternal peril to himself and us. Instead he faces the inevitable and he tells the Greeks, “it is for this reason that I have come to this hour….” that is, it is because I love you more than life itself, that I have come to this hour.”
There is no Easter resurrection without the waving of palm branches and the subsequent cry of “crucify him!” from those very same people. There is no Easter resurrection without Jesus experiencing Maundy Thursday’s betrayal by Judas and by sleeping friends who cannot stay awake for him one hour. There is no Easter resurrection without Good Friday’s abandonment by the inner circle of friends. There is no Easter resurrection without Jesus’ torture, suffering, and death. There is no Easter resurrection without Jesus hanging limp and bleeding on the cross.
It may be we have lost something important when we, unlike our Roman brothers and sisters, view the empty cross. Their use of a crucifix requires them to focus on the horror inflicted on Jesus, on death’s apparent victory much more than we. Maybe we have sanitized his sacrifice too much by venerating an empty golden cross. Maybe we spend too little time remembering the terrible cost to him because we focus to much on the benefit to us. I don’t know what the balance should be between these things.
But at this season, somewhere between sweet little Jesus in the manger and glorious Jesus robed in white, ascending to heaven, somewhere between these images, I think we would do well to focus more on the cost. And this is precisely that time of the year to see Jesus in a new light. A light that illumines the broken body, streaked with sweat, spittle, and his life’s blood. A face looking down, weighed by the crown that slices into his scalp. A face streaked with tears as he says goodbye to his mother. Parched lips that mutter a prayer and a sigh too deep for words. A chest that heaves its last and is violated by a spear. A body hanging in death, swarmed by flies who cannot wait for the warmth of life to ebb away, replaced by the cold of death.
I want to keep that image in front of me for more than the service of Good Friday. Maybe when I hear the crisp snap when the host is broken during the Eucharist, I want to remember his unspeakable anguish and the incredible love for me that it represents. Maybe then, I can leave worship, seeing my responsibly to love and serve in a new light.
Peace,
Jerry+
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Questions
The Gospel for this coming Sunday is probably the most familiar and most often quoted. The two characters are Nicodemus and Jesus.
Nicodemus had questions and he probably expected answers. He was an important man in the community. A good man. A ruler of the Jews, a teacher of some stature, one who should know the truth about God and his people. John 19 would have us believe he was a man of wealth, too, joining Joseph of Arimathea in preparing Jesus for burial. No doubt he had heard about Jesus from some of his students who had heard Jesus. I suppose he could have felt threatened by this new teacher in the community, but I don't think he did. He thought he could learn something. So he went. I admire that.
On the other hand, there is a troubling fact about him. He came to Jesus under the cover of darkness. Sort of sneaked around to pose some important questions to Jesus. I guess, even though he was a good man, a wise man, he was not a brave man. It wouldn't be smart to be seen talking alone to this Nazarene trouble maker. Guilt by association, you know. Later, didn't Peter face that same problem? "You're one of them," the woman at the fire would say. Peter was afraid. So afraid, he denied his association with Jesus, not once but three times, and with a curse, at that. Yeah, being seen with Jesus could be risky. So after dark, Nicodemus makes his way to Jesus.
I wonder what Nicodemus was planning to ask Jesus? Here's how he begins: "Teachers, we know that you are a teacher come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do, unless God is with him." Having said, in effect, "You are someone who can teach me something, " Nicodemus is preparing to ask Jesus something. But he doesn't get to. Before he can say a word, Jesus speaks, almost certainly answering nothing Nicodemus wanted to ask. But apparently it was something Jesus felt he should hear. Even so, he didn't understand and asks for clarification. Jesus says, "Truly, I say to you, unless one is born anew, he cannot see the kingdom of God." You know the whole story: this is John 3:16 and the follow up.
But here’s what I wonder: what was Nicodemus going to ask? If you had the chance, what would you ask Jesus?
Peace,
Jerry+
Nicodemus had questions and he probably expected answers. He was an important man in the community. A good man. A ruler of the Jews, a teacher of some stature, one who should know the truth about God and his people. John 19 would have us believe he was a man of wealth, too, joining Joseph of Arimathea in preparing Jesus for burial. No doubt he had heard about Jesus from some of his students who had heard Jesus. I suppose he could have felt threatened by this new teacher in the community, but I don't think he did. He thought he could learn something. So he went. I admire that.
On the other hand, there is a troubling fact about him. He came to Jesus under the cover of darkness. Sort of sneaked around to pose some important questions to Jesus. I guess, even though he was a good man, a wise man, he was not a brave man. It wouldn't be smart to be seen talking alone to this Nazarene trouble maker. Guilt by association, you know. Later, didn't Peter face that same problem? "You're one of them," the woman at the fire would say. Peter was afraid. So afraid, he denied his association with Jesus, not once but three times, and with a curse, at that. Yeah, being seen with Jesus could be risky. So after dark, Nicodemus makes his way to Jesus.
I wonder what Nicodemus was planning to ask Jesus? Here's how he begins: "Teachers, we know that you are a teacher come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do, unless God is with him." Having said, in effect, "You are someone who can teach me something, " Nicodemus is preparing to ask Jesus something. But he doesn't get to. Before he can say a word, Jesus speaks, almost certainly answering nothing Nicodemus wanted to ask. But apparently it was something Jesus felt he should hear. Even so, he didn't understand and asks for clarification. Jesus says, "Truly, I say to you, unless one is born anew, he cannot see the kingdom of God." You know the whole story: this is John 3:16 and the follow up.
But here’s what I wonder: what was Nicodemus going to ask? If you had the chance, what would you ask Jesus?
Peace,
Jerry+
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Bringing a Whip
This coming Sunday’s Gospel is a familiar one--Jesus drives the moneychangers from the Temple. You remember the particulars? Passover is approaching and Jesus goes to the Temple and there finds this holy place a virtual zoo. All kinds of animals appropriate for sacrifice are for sale within the Temple confines. And since the only currency acceptable was Temple currency, moneychangers were available to exchange (at a profit) the various currencies of the pilgrims for the acceptable coins.
Jesus is not angry about the sacrificial system. But something is wrong here. Rather than bring animals from outside the Temple, perhaps animals from their own flocks or herds, the Temple had been turned into a convenience store. Don’t have time to shop for a spotless dove? No problem. We’ll furnish you one.
So I think two things are going on with Jesus. First is the obvious one of stinking stalls of animals within a place consecrated to prayer and worship of God. The other is the people’s kind of pro forma approach to worship. They are willing to keep the law of sacrifice, but don’t want the inconvenience of bringing their own or obtaining one from the marketplace stalls. Maybe a kind of shallow expression of faith.
Perhaps I’m straining with this second point. But for just a minute, what if I’m on target? What parallel can be drawn from that time to this?
I read yesterday that the number of people in this country who define themselves as Christian is declining in this country. And the number that indicate they have no religion at all is increasing. Are these two facts somehow related to the witness of those who do define themselves as religious and as Christian? Have people looked at the life of self-identified Christians and found them to be shallow, inconsistent, or just outright hypocritical? I think so.
A look at the typical budget of the typical congregation will indicate that the amount spent on the poor or other mission enterprises will likely be ten percent or less. Almost all the money is spent on self-maintenance. OK, I understand, I really do. To do any good, to care for the souls of those who are members of the congregation, takes money. But isn’t the point of church-going worship and service? Going forth to serve?
If Jesus showed up at our churches this coming Sunday, would he be bringing a whip?
Peace,
Jerry+
P.S. One of my responsibilities in the parish for about four years was the conduct of worship at a nearby retirement community. The parish didn't continue that work when I retired. Just prior to Ash Wednesday, the retirement community contacted and asked if I'd resume the services, since they had been without since last April. So, last week I returned for the first time in a year. I'll be going back once, maybe twice a month, again. I'm grateful for this opportunity to lead worship, preside at the Eucharist, and preach again. Please pray for the little community and for me.
Jesus is not angry about the sacrificial system. But something is wrong here. Rather than bring animals from outside the Temple, perhaps animals from their own flocks or herds, the Temple had been turned into a convenience store. Don’t have time to shop for a spotless dove? No problem. We’ll furnish you one.
So I think two things are going on with Jesus. First is the obvious one of stinking stalls of animals within a place consecrated to prayer and worship of God. The other is the people’s kind of pro forma approach to worship. They are willing to keep the law of sacrifice, but don’t want the inconvenience of bringing their own or obtaining one from the marketplace stalls. Maybe a kind of shallow expression of faith.
Perhaps I’m straining with this second point. But for just a minute, what if I’m on target? What parallel can be drawn from that time to this?
I read yesterday that the number of people in this country who define themselves as Christian is declining in this country. And the number that indicate they have no religion at all is increasing. Are these two facts somehow related to the witness of those who do define themselves as religious and as Christian? Have people looked at the life of self-identified Christians and found them to be shallow, inconsistent, or just outright hypocritical? I think so.
A look at the typical budget of the typical congregation will indicate that the amount spent on the poor or other mission enterprises will likely be ten percent or less. Almost all the money is spent on self-maintenance. OK, I understand, I really do. To do any good, to care for the souls of those who are members of the congregation, takes money. But isn’t the point of church-going worship and service? Going forth to serve?
If Jesus showed up at our churches this coming Sunday, would he be bringing a whip?
Peace,
Jerry+
P.S. One of my responsibilities in the parish for about four years was the conduct of worship at a nearby retirement community. The parish didn't continue that work when I retired. Just prior to Ash Wednesday, the retirement community contacted and asked if I'd resume the services, since they had been without since last April. So, last week I returned for the first time in a year. I'll be going back once, maybe twice a month, again. I'm grateful for this opportunity to lead worship, preside at the Eucharist, and preach again. Please pray for the little community and for me.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Temptations
Last Sunday's Gospel is Mark's version of Jesus' temptation following his baptism. If you're familiar with Luke and Matthew, this seems like the Reader's Digest version, doesn't it? Where are the three conversations with Satan and the temptations that went along with them? They're not there.
I actually like this version better. Matthew and Luke have the temptations come to Jesus only after his 40 days--after he is at his strongest. Reading Mark's makes it sound as if the temptations came throughout the 40 days when he is struggling with his call and the nature of his ministry. Matthew and Luke have the angels ministering to Jesus after the three temptations. Mark makes it sound as if they are with Jesus all along.
Why do I like this better? In my own life, temptations don't necessarily come when I am most prepared, such as after completing a spiritual discipline. They often come unawares, and almost always when I'm not really spiritually strong--or feeling strong. That's what Mark seems to let us think about Jesus.
Oh, you say, but what about the angels? They don't stop the temptations, they support Jesus, probably during and afterwards. They represent God's grace and power accessible to Jesus. And of course, to us.
So I like this story because I can identify with it. What about you?
Good Lent to you,
Jerry+
I actually like this version better. Matthew and Luke have the temptations come to Jesus only after his 40 days--after he is at his strongest. Reading Mark's makes it sound as if the temptations came throughout the 40 days when he is struggling with his call and the nature of his ministry. Matthew and Luke have the angels ministering to Jesus after the three temptations. Mark makes it sound as if they are with Jesus all along.
Why do I like this better? In my own life, temptations don't necessarily come when I am most prepared, such as after completing a spiritual discipline. They often come unawares, and almost always when I'm not really spiritually strong--or feeling strong. That's what Mark seems to let us think about Jesus.
Oh, you say, but what about the angels? They don't stop the temptations, they support Jesus, probably during and afterwards. They represent God's grace and power accessible to Jesus. And of course, to us.
So I like this story because I can identify with it. What about you?
Good Lent to you,
Jerry+
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
What Happened?
As you may remember, I teach Church History in a local seminary. Church History almost always turns out to be the study of the movers and shakers—bishops, popes, emperors, kings. I’ve tried to emphasize as much as I can how, as the movers and shakers do their thing, the parish clergy and laity are living their faith. We don’t have a lot of information about this until we get to the English Reformation.
While Henry is busy dismantling the relationship between England and Rome, the average person is devoutly Catholic. One of the ways the Church ended up being so powerful and wealthy was the gifts of land, property and money that had been provided to them though out the Middle Ages by the gentry and middle class. Peasants had nothing to leave, but the record indicates they were faithful in attending to feast days and Sunday worship. Some would even run from church to church to attend mass multiple times on Sunday. Sure they tended to be pretty superstitious too, but nonetheless, their faith was incredibly important to them.
All this was on my mind during my exercise walk this morning. As I thought about this, I thought about my youth and how in the 40s and 50s when I was a kid, churches in my neighborhood were packed. I lived in a Catholic neighborhood, and on Saturday and Sunday, there was mass after mass and all seemed to have a fair share of people present.
What happened, I wondered? I wondered because all the figures today show church attendance at an all time low, especially as a percentage of population in this country. Then an “answer” popped into my head—one I want to explore more, but will share now. Vatican II happened.
For the Catholic Church in this country, the unintended consequence of Vatican II was droves of priests and religious leaving their vows. Not only that, but the number of men who sought the priesthood has fallen and continued to be so low as to border on a crisis. Convents dried up and teaching nuns disappeared. When that happened, the Catholic schools began a decline, especially in poor areas, because they could hardly afford to pay lay teachers.
What else happened? For Catholics and for Episcopalians especially, the mystery of the Eucharist was replaced by a language people understood, at least for Catholics, and by a rite they could watch face to face. Was that a bad thing? I think a little bit. This is why I need to consider this more. About the same time, clergy stopped being Father Jones and became Father Bob, or more likely, just Bob. I’m a little afraid along with the loss of the formality there was some loss of respect. Consequently, the priest up front was just another guy—or in some cases, another woman! And less likely to be able to lead or set an example.
Well, this is not a well developed argument, but it is just something I’ve been thinking about.
Peace,
Jerry+
While Henry is busy dismantling the relationship between England and Rome, the average person is devoutly Catholic. One of the ways the Church ended up being so powerful and wealthy was the gifts of land, property and money that had been provided to them though out the Middle Ages by the gentry and middle class. Peasants had nothing to leave, but the record indicates they were faithful in attending to feast days and Sunday worship. Some would even run from church to church to attend mass multiple times on Sunday. Sure they tended to be pretty superstitious too, but nonetheless, their faith was incredibly important to them.
All this was on my mind during my exercise walk this morning. As I thought about this, I thought about my youth and how in the 40s and 50s when I was a kid, churches in my neighborhood were packed. I lived in a Catholic neighborhood, and on Saturday and Sunday, there was mass after mass and all seemed to have a fair share of people present.
What happened, I wondered? I wondered because all the figures today show church attendance at an all time low, especially as a percentage of population in this country. Then an “answer” popped into my head—one I want to explore more, but will share now. Vatican II happened.
For the Catholic Church in this country, the unintended consequence of Vatican II was droves of priests and religious leaving their vows. Not only that, but the number of men who sought the priesthood has fallen and continued to be so low as to border on a crisis. Convents dried up and teaching nuns disappeared. When that happened, the Catholic schools began a decline, especially in poor areas, because they could hardly afford to pay lay teachers.
What else happened? For Catholics and for Episcopalians especially, the mystery of the Eucharist was replaced by a language people understood, at least for Catholics, and by a rite they could watch face to face. Was that a bad thing? I think a little bit. This is why I need to consider this more. About the same time, clergy stopped being Father Jones and became Father Bob, or more likely, just Bob. I’m a little afraid along with the loss of the formality there was some loss of respect. Consequently, the priest up front was just another guy—or in some cases, another woman! And less likely to be able to lead or set an example.
Well, this is not a well developed argument, but it is just something I’ve been thinking about.
Peace,
Jerry+
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Onesimus
Today is the feast day of Onesimus, the runaway slave Paul speaks of in Philemon. I know this because I led Evening Prayer today at the Seminary where I teach and had to look up the reading for the day. The Gospel for today was the story of the man blind from birth who was healed by Jesus' application of mud made from his spit.
Actually, the man, who is never named, wasn't healed until he did as Jesus told him and washed the mud away at the Pool of Siloam. It is important to note, the man didn't ask for healing--someone asked Jesus who had sinned that this poor beggar was blind. Jesus responded by saying no one sinned, but that the glory of God was about to be revealed. He then made the mud and told the man to go wash. Bottom line, as in other stories, it's the man's faith that restores his sight--the faith that had him make his way to the Pool as instructed.
I was reminded of last Sunday's OT lesson about Nahum, the great general who had leprosy. He's healed when he bathes in the Jordan seven times. He objects to this requirement. And from the context, it's clear he thinks he should have been asked to do something grand. Instead, he bathes in a dirty little river in this dirty little backwater country.
Is there a lesson for us here? Well of course there is.
You'll be healed when you figure it out for yourself.
Peace,
Jerry+
Actually, the man, who is never named, wasn't healed until he did as Jesus told him and washed the mud away at the Pool of Siloam. It is important to note, the man didn't ask for healing--someone asked Jesus who had sinned that this poor beggar was blind. Jesus responded by saying no one sinned, but that the glory of God was about to be revealed. He then made the mud and told the man to go wash. Bottom line, as in other stories, it's the man's faith that restores his sight--the faith that had him make his way to the Pool as instructed.
I was reminded of last Sunday's OT lesson about Nahum, the great general who had leprosy. He's healed when he bathes in the Jordan seven times. He objects to this requirement. And from the context, it's clear he thinks he should have been asked to do something grand. Instead, he bathes in a dirty little river in this dirty little backwater country.
Is there a lesson for us here? Well of course there is.
You'll be healed when you figure it out for yourself.
Peace,
Jerry+
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