As I was getting dressed this morning, I flipped on the radio. At the newsbreak, I heard a report that People Magazine was offering $6,000,000 for the rights to the first photos of Jennifer Lopez’s new twins. Yes, $6M! And I couldn’t help but ask myself, “What the hell is wrong with us?”
People Magazine is not stupid (well maybe, but let me go on). They know they will sell enough magazines featuring the pictures to get their money back and then some. What does that say about us? Why do we care what Jennifer’s kids look like? Why do we care what any of the celebrity kids look like? And just this morning in my local paper, there is a picture of Angelina Jolie with, as the paper said, “a bump.” She’s pregnant. So what? Why did that take up page two space in my local paper?
My son is in Iraq, in Baghdad. He tells me that every day there is some more good news about what’s happening there. Schools opening. Shopping districts coming back to life. Where’s that news? And a friend of mine whose son just returned from Iraq told her this story. His unit came upon a little girl who had hurt her foot. They gave her medical care and went along their way. The next day, when they were coming down the same road again, she saw them and ran into the middle of the road and lay down. Puzzled by this, someone from the lead vehicle got out to investigate. She was able to show them that a few meters more down the road there was a freshly planted mine. She saved lives as a way of thanking those who reached out to her. Why didn’t that story make the news?
What’s wrong with us?
I can’t even sign off with my usual “peace” today.
Jerry+
Monday, February 25, 2008
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Changes
My profile says I’m retired, but that’s not entirely accurate. I’ve been on the staff of a large Episcopal church for some time and I will retire 6 April, not only from that staff position, but from the ministry.
I’m currently the longest serving staff member on the staff. I’ve out lasted two Rectors, an interim Rector, and spent a year with a new Rector. At the same time, I’ve seen four Associates leave; two who were left over from the first Rector who left and two who’ve come and gone while I’ve been here. The lay staff has turned over completely with some positions changing a couple of times. And prior to joining the staff, my wife and I worshipped there from 1986 on while I was on leave from ordained ministry and in a private counseling and consulting practice.
I’ve stayed the course through it all. I’ve given myself passionately to try to help the parish thrive and grow. I’ve helped institute new procedures and new directions as well as new programs. I’ve tended to be the strategic thinker on staff and tended to be the one who tracked trends, believing that knowledge is critical for the future. And now I’m leaving and something has happened to me.
While I want nothing but the best for this place and its people and work, I find so many things about which I have gone to the mat in the past just not mattering much. I’ve known since early December I would be leaving in 2008 and since early January when exactly. I’ve tried to sustain my interest, but it has been hard. Why?
A part of the answer seems to be perspective. I’m already looking at the place through the lens of greater objectivity than is possible when you’re a part of the system. That perspective has given new dimension to some warts that I tended to overlook or tended to believe I could influence. Now I see them more clearly. And now I know I can’t influence them. Plus, there is no lame duck like an Associate lame duck in an Episcopal parish.
As I turn my attention away from the parish and toward what life will be like on 7 April, I’m a bit sad that my passion ebbed so quickly. I suppose I had envisioned myself walking out the door while tossing off my last good idea to whomever might be listening. But, that’s not going to happen. I’ve learned something about myself—and I’m not sure I like it.
Peace, Jerry+
I’m currently the longest serving staff member on the staff. I’ve out lasted two Rectors, an interim Rector, and spent a year with a new Rector. At the same time, I’ve seen four Associates leave; two who were left over from the first Rector who left and two who’ve come and gone while I’ve been here. The lay staff has turned over completely with some positions changing a couple of times. And prior to joining the staff, my wife and I worshipped there from 1986 on while I was on leave from ordained ministry and in a private counseling and consulting practice.
I’ve stayed the course through it all. I’ve given myself passionately to try to help the parish thrive and grow. I’ve helped institute new procedures and new directions as well as new programs. I’ve tended to be the strategic thinker on staff and tended to be the one who tracked trends, believing that knowledge is critical for the future. And now I’m leaving and something has happened to me.
While I want nothing but the best for this place and its people and work, I find so many things about which I have gone to the mat in the past just not mattering much. I’ve known since early December I would be leaving in 2008 and since early January when exactly. I’ve tried to sustain my interest, but it has been hard. Why?
A part of the answer seems to be perspective. I’m already looking at the place through the lens of greater objectivity than is possible when you’re a part of the system. That perspective has given new dimension to some warts that I tended to overlook or tended to believe I could influence. Now I see them more clearly. And now I know I can’t influence them. Plus, there is no lame duck like an Associate lame duck in an Episcopal parish.
As I turn my attention away from the parish and toward what life will be like on 7 April, I’m a bit sad that my passion ebbed so quickly. I suppose I had envisioned myself walking out the door while tossing off my last good idea to whomever might be listening. But, that’s not going to happen. I’ve learned something about myself—and I’m not sure I like it.
Peace, Jerry+
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Valentine's Day
Today is Valentine’s Day. Who is Valentine? Nobody is really sure! It was a common name (from the Latin for “worthy”) and there are several priest/bishop candidates. We know with some certainty that at least three Valentines were martyred, so any of them could be THE one.
The first recorded linking of St. Valentine’s feast day with romance comes from one of Chaucer’s writings. Prior to that, how Valentine and romance got tied together is anybody’s guess. But within 20 or so years of Chaucer’s work, the first Valentine poem was written (c1400). And the current passion for cards and more was revived in this country in the mid 19th century.
St. Valentine’s feast was removed from the Roman Catholic calendar in 1969 because nobody could be sure who was being commemorated. And today, most people give little or no thought to St. Valentine on this day. Instead it is a big card, candy, flowers, and jewelry day when, even if we’re not too romantic any other time, we make time on this day.
All this matters, why? I’m not sure it does. When I gave my wife the first of two cards today ( a humorous one in the morning; a more “serious” one at dinner) I added a note. The essence of the note was a promise to pay more attention every day and to enjoy her and enjoy our relationship every day rather than just this one day.
St. Valentine could care less. My wife liked it a lot, though. Maybe your significant other would like that sentiment too.
Peace, Jerry+
The first recorded linking of St. Valentine’s feast day with romance comes from one of Chaucer’s writings. Prior to that, how Valentine and romance got tied together is anybody’s guess. But within 20 or so years of Chaucer’s work, the first Valentine poem was written (c1400). And the current passion for cards and more was revived in this country in the mid 19th century.
St. Valentine’s feast was removed from the Roman Catholic calendar in 1969 because nobody could be sure who was being commemorated. And today, most people give little or no thought to St. Valentine on this day. Instead it is a big card, candy, flowers, and jewelry day when, even if we’re not too romantic any other time, we make time on this day.
All this matters, why? I’m not sure it does. When I gave my wife the first of two cards today ( a humorous one in the morning; a more “serious” one at dinner) I added a note. The essence of the note was a promise to pay more attention every day and to enjoy her and enjoy our relationship every day rather than just this one day.
St. Valentine could care less. My wife liked it a lot, though. Maybe your significant other would like that sentiment too.
Peace, Jerry+
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
The Temptation
This past Sunday, Lent 1, the Gospel was about Jesus’ temptations by Satan in the wilderness. At least that’s how it’s usually characterized. As you might imagine, I have a slightly different take on this story.
The Gospel lessons have been jumping around a bit, so you may not be aware that Jesus goes to the wilderness immediately following his baptism. Matthew says he was led by the Spirit; Mark says he was driven by the Spirit. Here’s what I think. Jesus at his baptism has his awareness of who he is heightened. He’s anointed by the descending Spirit and may realize for the first time that he is unique in his relationship to God. That’s pretty sobering, so he needs time to reflect and goes on retreat.
In my theology, I don’t spend much time concerned about evil incarnate in Satan, rather I think there is plenty of evil inherent in humanity naturally. Just look around. Just yesterday in my hometown, the third shooting of a kid in school by another kid in the last couple of months took place. Over what? They were arguing over rap music. But, I digress.
Jesus is on retreat to try to figure out what kind of son of God he’s going to be. Outside devil or no, he considers the possibilities. He struggles as we do. How will he use his influence and power? His human nature suggests all these alluring possibilities. His better self hears his Father’s and his ancestor’s voices. It is to those he listens. When he walks away, he is resolute. He will be a son worthy of his Father.
Well, could the lesson for us be any more clear than this? To whose voice will we ultimately listen when our baser selves try to lead us down the road frequently traveled? To whose voice did the young high school student listen yesterday when he shot his classmate three times? To whose voice are we listening when we are faced multiple times a day with a branching path?
Jesus may have left the wilderness resolute and we may feel a little guilt that our resolves is so malleable. Take heart. Toward the end of his life, he prayed that he might be spared the outcome staring him in the face. Yes, he ended the prayer with “You will be done.” But, he waffled at bit, didn’t he? I think so. The difference may be what happened after he waffled. He took that other fork in the road, the one so easy to avoid.
Is this something to consider during your observance of Lent?
Peace, Jerry+
The Gospel lessons have been jumping around a bit, so you may not be aware that Jesus goes to the wilderness immediately following his baptism. Matthew says he was led by the Spirit; Mark says he was driven by the Spirit. Here’s what I think. Jesus at his baptism has his awareness of who he is heightened. He’s anointed by the descending Spirit and may realize for the first time that he is unique in his relationship to God. That’s pretty sobering, so he needs time to reflect and goes on retreat.
In my theology, I don’t spend much time concerned about evil incarnate in Satan, rather I think there is plenty of evil inherent in humanity naturally. Just look around. Just yesterday in my hometown, the third shooting of a kid in school by another kid in the last couple of months took place. Over what? They were arguing over rap music. But, I digress.
Jesus is on retreat to try to figure out what kind of son of God he’s going to be. Outside devil or no, he considers the possibilities. He struggles as we do. How will he use his influence and power? His human nature suggests all these alluring possibilities. His better self hears his Father’s and his ancestor’s voices. It is to those he listens. When he walks away, he is resolute. He will be a son worthy of his Father.
Well, could the lesson for us be any more clear than this? To whose voice will we ultimately listen when our baser selves try to lead us down the road frequently traveled? To whose voice did the young high school student listen yesterday when he shot his classmate three times? To whose voice are we listening when we are faced multiple times a day with a branching path?
Jesus may have left the wilderness resolute and we may feel a little guilt that our resolves is so malleable. Take heart. Toward the end of his life, he prayed that he might be spared the outcome staring him in the face. Yes, he ended the prayer with “You will be done.” But, he waffled at bit, didn’t he? I think so. The difference may be what happened after he waffled. He took that other fork in the road, the one so easy to avoid.
Is this something to consider during your observance of Lent?
Peace, Jerry+
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Lent
Lent began today, Ash Wednesday. Lent is one of the most misunderstood seasons of the Christian year, in my opinion. Most people seem to think it’s a time to give up something—for reasons that may not be altogether clear. For the next few weeks, for those who practice Lent, there will be chit chat about what one has given up. And throughout the season, you’ll hear someone say things such as, “Oh, no dessert for me. I gave up desserts for Lent.” Or, “Do you have ‘near beer?’ I gave up booze for Lent.”
Personally such talk annoys me. If you give up something, please keep that between you and God. But even worse for me is that giving up something seems to be the extent of understanding about Lent. You may not want to change the way you observe (or don’t observe Lent) after reading this, but at least you’ll have a better sense of what the season is about.
Lent is a season of serious self-examination which should, if you do it well, result in a sense of penitence. One of the purposes of giving up something is to learn just how hard it is to control even one small part of you life, how likely you are to either fail or to end up boasting that you succeeded. The theory is that once you understand that, you’ll understand how much you need to rely on God for grace and strength every day to be about the Christian life.
The traditional practices of Lent are prayer, fasting, and almsgiving (or service). Their purpose is to aid in your self-examination, penitence, but most of all, your change. In theory, you should emerge from Lent a different person from the one who started Lent. In the early Church, Lent was the time in which those who desired to be Christians, that is, followers of Christ, studied Jesus’ life, learned what it meant to take up the cross, and learned the fundamental practices of faith, such as how to pray. They ended their preparation by being baptized on Easter Day and becoming full members of the Christian community, and being allowed to stay in worship for the Lord’s Supper for the first time. You can see how they might truly be different when Easter Day ended.
So, here’s a question for you for Lent: are you going to celebrate Easter as a different person from the one who received ashes today?
Peace, Jerry+
Personally such talk annoys me. If you give up something, please keep that between you and God. But even worse for me is that giving up something seems to be the extent of understanding about Lent. You may not want to change the way you observe (or don’t observe Lent) after reading this, but at least you’ll have a better sense of what the season is about.
Lent is a season of serious self-examination which should, if you do it well, result in a sense of penitence. One of the purposes of giving up something is to learn just how hard it is to control even one small part of you life, how likely you are to either fail or to end up boasting that you succeeded. The theory is that once you understand that, you’ll understand how much you need to rely on God for grace and strength every day to be about the Christian life.
The traditional practices of Lent are prayer, fasting, and almsgiving (or service). Their purpose is to aid in your self-examination, penitence, but most of all, your change. In theory, you should emerge from Lent a different person from the one who started Lent. In the early Church, Lent was the time in which those who desired to be Christians, that is, followers of Christ, studied Jesus’ life, learned what it meant to take up the cross, and learned the fundamental practices of faith, such as how to pray. They ended their preparation by being baptized on Easter Day and becoming full members of the Christian community, and being allowed to stay in worship for the Lord’s Supper for the first time. You can see how they might truly be different when Easter Day ended.
So, here’s a question for you for Lent: are you going to celebrate Easter as a different person from the one who received ashes today?
Peace, Jerry+
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Crazy People
The comment from lbd on my last entry sparked a memory and a thought.
Some years ago I had occasion to drive one of our city’s busiest streets heading downtown several times a week. Now and then I’d see a man standing on a street corner. Around his neck he wore a large framed picture of Jesus—you know, the one with the bleeding heart? It was secured by a string of some kind. On the ground next to him was a homemade signboard propped up in some way. Stuck to it were big stickers that said, “Stop Abortion Now.” He would gesture to passing cars, shouting out something which I couldn’t hear with my windows up and air conditioning on. But it wasn’t hard to image what he was saying.
My reaction each time was, “What a nut! This guy has serious mental problems. Somebody needs to help this guy.” I couldn’t have been more dismissive. Once I saw him driving an old car with the stop abortion signs plastered all over it. His driver’s side window was down and he was gesturing out the window—sometimes with both hands. And shouting. I was thankful he was driving on the other side of the street in the opposite direction.
Then one day I had a different reaction—I don’t know why. It struck me that maybe he wasn’t mentally ill. Maybe he was passionate about something that he believed Jesus was passionate about. Maybe he was following Jesus as well as he knew how, spreading the message he believed Jesus would be spreading. It didn’t matter to him if people thought he was nuts. Jesus’ own family thought he was nuts at one point and tried to get him to shut up and come back home where he belonged. And where they could take care of him. And avoid embarrassment. Maybe this man on the street corner had something many of us lack: a passionate determination to proclaim Jesus’ message no matter what the cost and no matter what people thought.
I don’t make that drive very often any more. I haven’t seem the man in some years. I sometimes wonder what happened to him. Did he finally give up, believing it was futile to call people to change their minds for the sake of their souls? Did his family grab him up and put him some place safe? Did he get arrested once too many times for being a public nuisance? Did his heart break? I don’t know.
You know, I kind of miss the guy. Because after I stopped thinking he was a loony, seeing him always provoked me to examine my own dedication. What I’ve been thinking about is this: is our passion for the causes of Jesus so clearly displayed that people think we’re nuts?
Peace, Jerry+
Some years ago I had occasion to drive one of our city’s busiest streets heading downtown several times a week. Now and then I’d see a man standing on a street corner. Around his neck he wore a large framed picture of Jesus—you know, the one with the bleeding heart? It was secured by a string of some kind. On the ground next to him was a homemade signboard propped up in some way. Stuck to it were big stickers that said, “Stop Abortion Now.” He would gesture to passing cars, shouting out something which I couldn’t hear with my windows up and air conditioning on. But it wasn’t hard to image what he was saying.
My reaction each time was, “What a nut! This guy has serious mental problems. Somebody needs to help this guy.” I couldn’t have been more dismissive. Once I saw him driving an old car with the stop abortion signs plastered all over it. His driver’s side window was down and he was gesturing out the window—sometimes with both hands. And shouting. I was thankful he was driving on the other side of the street in the opposite direction.
Then one day I had a different reaction—I don’t know why. It struck me that maybe he wasn’t mentally ill. Maybe he was passionate about something that he believed Jesus was passionate about. Maybe he was following Jesus as well as he knew how, spreading the message he believed Jesus would be spreading. It didn’t matter to him if people thought he was nuts. Jesus’ own family thought he was nuts at one point and tried to get him to shut up and come back home where he belonged. And where they could take care of him. And avoid embarrassment. Maybe this man on the street corner had something many of us lack: a passionate determination to proclaim Jesus’ message no matter what the cost and no matter what people thought.
I don’t make that drive very often any more. I haven’t seem the man in some years. I sometimes wonder what happened to him. Did he finally give up, believing it was futile to call people to change their minds for the sake of their souls? Did his family grab him up and put him some place safe? Did he get arrested once too many times for being a public nuisance? Did his heart break? I don’t know.
You know, I kind of miss the guy. Because after I stopped thinking he was a loony, seeing him always provoked me to examine my own dedication. What I’ve been thinking about is this: is our passion for the causes of Jesus so clearly displayed that people think we’re nuts?
Peace, Jerry+
Monday, January 28, 2008
Disciples
This past Sunday's Gospel included material about Jesus calling his first disciples--the first of the inner circle of those who followed him or stopped and listened to him.
So what?
Here's what? I have a question. What did they see in him, even before his resurrection, that tore them away from their work and their families and sent them trekking after him all over the countryside? While you think of that, it helps to also think of this fact: if we string together everything the Gospels say Jesus said, and we speak it in a normal speaking voice and speed, it amounts to about two hours of material, excluding duplicates! While they were to be with him for a year and hear much more than that, at that point, they had been probably only heard him once or twice, if that. And if they heard him for two hours, they heard as much as we have and not many of us have given up everything. So what was it?
The cynical view is they thought he would overthrow the Romans and that would surely improve their lot. Even better, they would be in on the bottom floor! Remember how at one point two of them are arguing about who will sit at his right hand? [Not that attractive, but entirely human.] While I'm somewhat inclined toward this view after watching how Christians deal with each other for the last 40 years, I really don't think that's it.
What then? I think they saw someone who was genuinely good, someone who genuinely cared for people, and who radiated something holy. It took them a long time to see the whole picture and to grasp why this was true, but it was worth following right away. People like that are hard to find. So if you find one or two in this life, latch on.
And in the meantime, take another listen to Jesus. Don't get distracted by the Church, even by the people in the Church. Go straight to the source. You might find yourself "tearing around the countryside" so to speak. Scary thought.
Peace, Jerry+
So what?
Here's what? I have a question. What did they see in him, even before his resurrection, that tore them away from their work and their families and sent them trekking after him all over the countryside? While you think of that, it helps to also think of this fact: if we string together everything the Gospels say Jesus said, and we speak it in a normal speaking voice and speed, it amounts to about two hours of material, excluding duplicates! While they were to be with him for a year and hear much more than that, at that point, they had been probably only heard him once or twice, if that. And if they heard him for two hours, they heard as much as we have and not many of us have given up everything. So what was it?
The cynical view is they thought he would overthrow the Romans and that would surely improve their lot. Even better, they would be in on the bottom floor! Remember how at one point two of them are arguing about who will sit at his right hand? [Not that attractive, but entirely human.] While I'm somewhat inclined toward this view after watching how Christians deal with each other for the last 40 years, I really don't think that's it.
What then? I think they saw someone who was genuinely good, someone who genuinely cared for people, and who radiated something holy. It took them a long time to see the whole picture and to grasp why this was true, but it was worth following right away. People like that are hard to find. So if you find one or two in this life, latch on.
And in the meantime, take another listen to Jesus. Don't get distracted by the Church, even by the people in the Church. Go straight to the source. You might find yourself "tearing around the countryside" so to speak. Scary thought.
Peace, Jerry+
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