ILLUSTRATIONS FOR TEACHERS, PREACHERS, AND OTHER LEADERS www.davidjonespub.com

Action over discussion: Action takes decision and movement. Scholars study much and decide little.

"Scholars don’t make good managers," says one management theorist. "They are trained not to decide." There is a story told about the physicist Max Planck. When he died and went to heaven St. Peter met him at the gate saying, "Professor Planck, this door leads to the Kingdom of Heaven, but this door leads to a discussion about the Kingdom of Heaven." You know which one the scholar chose. The word decision comes from the Latin meaning "to cut off, to sever." Better to discuss things, defer judgment, refer the matter to a committee for further consideration, than to make a decision. Why go on record as believing that the earth is round when someone may discover next year that it’s really flat? Wait. Observe. Be patient. There’s still time

Action: decisions alone mean little

Three frogs were sitting on a log. Two decided to jump. How many frogs are left? Three. Deciding to jump means nothing.

Action: do more talk and think less

To help people find enlightenment, Buddha spent little time teaching people how to think. He showed little concern over what people thought. Instead, his teachings were programs for action. Jesus was similar. In the gospels, the word do shows up 487 times but the word believe is used only 88. Buddha and Jesus both emphasized action.

Action: excuses A neighbor, famous for making excuses, knocked on Sophia’s door and asked to borrow a rope. “I can’t let you have my rope,” she said, “I’m using it out behind my house to tie up the wind.” “No one uses a rope to tie up the wind,” he said. “I know,” she replied, “but when you don’t want to do something, one excuse is as good as any other.” And with that, she closed the door.

Action: Go before you know, not build establish or maintain, journey

In Bible, Jesus says, Build 11 times. Go 111 times Send 29 times Sent 133

1 Go. Jesus disciples: Go, not build.

Action: Go! Actions, Soul, known by action, choices, movement, Adler

Alfred Adler says movement makes a soul. We attribute a soul only to moving, living organisms. The soul stands in innate relationship to free motion. Those organisms which are strongly rooted have no necessity for a soul. How supernatural it would be to attribute emotions and thoughts to a deeply rooted plant! There is a strict corollary between movement and psychic life. This constitutes the difference between plant and animal. In the evolution of the psychic life, therefore, we must consider everything which is connected with movement.

Action: Go!, Action over thinking, Buddha, church do not think, praxis, anything worth doing well is worth doing poorly

The Buddha taught that (we think too much. The Buddha taught that too much) theological speculation is about as useful as wondering what kind of arrow has struck you in the chest. You may measure it if you want to. You may develop theories about where it came from, who shot it, and what kind of wood it is made from, but all in all you time would be better spent deciding how you are going to remove it from your body. (In most eastern religions) The focus is not on orthodoxy – right belief – but orthopraxis – right practice. Do the right things.

Action: Go, Larry the flying balloon truck driver

Larry was a truck driver, but his lifelong dream was to fly. When he graduated from high school, he joined the Air Force in hopes of becoming a pilot. Unfortunately, poor eyesight disqualified him. So when he finally left the service, he had to satisfy himself with watching others fly the fighter jets that crisscrossed the skies over his backyard. As Larry sat there in his lawn chair, he dreamed about the magic of flying. Then one day, Larry got an idea. He went down to the local army-navy surplus store and bought a tank of helium and forty-five weather balloons. These were not your brightly colored party balloons, these were heavy-duty spheres measuring more than four feet across when fully inflated. Back in his yard, Larry used straps to attach the balloons to his lawn chair, the kind your might have in your own back yard. He anchored the chair to the bumper of his jeep and inflated the balloons with helium. Then he packed some sandwiches and drinks and loaded a BB gun, figuring he could pop a few of those balloons when it was time to return to earth. His preparations complete, Larry sat in his chair and cut the anchoring cord. His plan was to lazily float back down to terra firma. But things didn’t quite work out that way. When Larry cut the cord, he didn’t float lazily up; he shot up as if fired from a cannon! Nor did he go up a couple hundred feet. He climbed and climbed until he finally leveled off at eleven thousand feet! At that height, he could hardly risk deflating any of the balloons, lest he unbalance the load and really experience flying! So he stayed up there, sailing around for fourteen hours, totally at a loss as to how to get down. Eventually, Larry drifted into the approach corridor for Los Angeles International Airport. A Pan Am pilot radioed the tower about passing a guy in a lawn chair at eleven thousand feet with a gun in his lap.

2 LAX is right on the ocean, and you may know that at nightfall, the winds on the coast begin to change. So, as dusk fell, Larry began drifting out to sea. The Navy dispatched a helicopter to rescue him. But the rescue team had a hard time getting to him, because the draft from their propeller kept pushing his home-made contraption farther and farther away. Eventually they were able to hover over him and drop a rescue line with which they gradually hauled him back to earth. A television reporter asked him, “Mr. Walters, why did you do it?” Larry replied, “A person can’t just sit around all the time.” Some times you just got to move.

Action: Leap of faith. You can’t see God but God can see you so jump.

No one tells stories about commitment better than Sören Kierkegaard. That’s probably because he saw commitment as being at the core of what it means to be a Christian. Perhaps his most famous illustration of commitment is the tale he tells about a man trapped on the edge of a cliff with a raging fire burning toward him. It will only be a minute or two before the fire consumes him when he hears a voice from down below the cliff, amidst the darkness, calling, “Jump!” The man answers, “But, I can’t see you! There’s only darkness down there!” The voice from the deep shouts back, “Jump anyway. I can see you!” Kierkegaard uses this story to illustrate what he called “the leap of faith.”

Kierkegaard also tells the story of a boy in a swimming pool trying to impress his father by pretending that he knows how to swim. He splashes and kicks the water with one foot and yells to his father, “Look! Look! I’m swimming!” He splashes with his arms and kicks with one leg, but he isn’t swimming—because all the time he is holding on to the bottom of the pool with the big toe of his other foot. Tony Campolo

Action: Mission: Vocation, potential, future, Peter Pan, Island looking for Peter, Adventure

Anyone know Peter Pan? Seen the movie? Read the book? Peter is a boy who never tires of adventure. Do you know the name of the island where Peter lives? Neverland. Peter, Wendy, John and Michael are flying toward the island, unlike the movie, in the book it takes several days, this is what it says… they drew near the Neverland; for after many moons they did reach it, and, what is more, they had been going pretty straight all the time, not perhaps so much owing to the guidance of Peter or Tink as because the island was looking for them. It is only thus that any one may sight those magic shores. The island was looking for Peter! Peter just flew, and the island, adventure came looking for him. Isn’t that wonderful?

Action: shows who you are: not public opinion: meanness means little

A new recruit went into training at Paris Island, hoping to become a marine. He was one of those young men who seemed to be a bit out of step with the norm, and he easily became the subject of ridicule for those who enjoy picking on off beat people. In the particular barracks to which this young marine was assigned, there was an extremely high level of meanness. The other young men did everything they could to make a joke of the new recruit and to humiliate him. One day, someone came up with the bright idea that they could scare the daylights out of this young marine by dropping a disarmed hand grenade onto the floor and pretending it was about to go off. Everyone else knew about this and they were all ready to get a big laugh. The hand grenade was thrown into the middle of the floor, and the warning was yelled, “It’s a live grenade, it’s a live grenade! It’s about to explode!” They fully expected that the young man would get hysterical and perhaps jump out a window. Instead, the

3 young marine fell on the grenade, hugged it to his stomach, and yelled to the other men in the barracks, “Run for your lives! Run for your lives! You’ll be killed if you don’t (Tony Campolo)

Action: what do you have: kierkegaard’s fire chief and town with water pistols.

Kierkegaard told about a town that had a congenial man who led the fire brigade. Everyone thought of the fire chief as a gentleman of the highest order. Children loved to visit the firehouse and look over his equipment. He always tipped his hat to women when he passed them on the street, and he could be counted on for good conversation when men gathered on street corners. But one day there was a fire! The fire chief rounded up his brigade, and they rushed to the building that had flames pouring from its windows. Much to his surprise, the fire chief couldn’t get to the fire because interposed between him and the burning building were several hundred townspeople. Each of them was holding a water pistol, and from time to time, the people would smile at one another and squirt their pistols at the raging inferno. “What does the fire chief say?” asks Kierkegaard. The fire chief yells, “What are you doing here? Why do you have water pistols? What are you trying to accomplish?” The spokesman for the group answers, “We’ve all gathered here to support your efforts, sir! We all believe in the good work you do in this community, and each of us has come to make a humble contribution.” With that the people in the crowd smile at each other, aim their water pistols at the fire, squeeze the triggers, and squirt some water at the flames. “We all could be doing more,” says the spokesman (Squirt! Squirt!). “Couldn’t we, folks? (Squirt! Squirt!) But, the little that each of us can contribute we gladly give, just to show that we are with you” (Squirt! Squirt!). “How does the fire chief respond?” asks Kierkegaard. The fire chief says, “Get out of here! Fires like this are not for well- meaning people who want to make limited contributions! Such situations demand firemen who are ready to risk their lives in putting out the flames!” Kierkegaard makes it clear that going to church and making our small contributions to the work of the ministry from time to time might be nice, but so much more is required of us if we are to deal with life as true Christians. (Tony Campolo)

Action: will you do what it takes to live in community: to have peace: Shalom: Kempis quote

“All men desire peace, yet few desire the things that make for peace,” wrote Thomas a Kempis, author of the medieval devotional classic Imitatio Christi. The same might be said in regard to community:

Actions over words, Kierkegaard, Duck Church.

The first marshlands church for ducks was having its Easter service, and the ducks came from all over. They waddled in from miles around. When a duck will waddle for miles you know it's a special service. The sanctuary was packed. There was wall to wall down. They began to sing a few hymns. They sang, "On the Wings of a Snow White Duck," "For the Beauty of the Marsh," and "Faith of Our Waddlers" The duck preacher took his stand behind the podium. "My brother's and sister ducks," he began. "Look around you at those next to you. Look at yourself. God has given us feathers." "Amen!" the congregation quacked. "God has given us beautiful feathers," the minister duck said. "Amen!" shouted the congregation. "God has given us beautiful feathers for a purpose." "Amen" "God has given us beautiful feathers so we could fly."

4 "Amen" "God has given us beautiful feathers so we could sail high above the clouds." "Amen" "God has given us beautiful feathers so we could soar on wings like eagles." "Amen" The minister went on and on for a half an hour preaching about God's gift of flight to them. Louder and louder the congregation shouted back "Amen" after "Amen". But when the service was over, every one of those ducks waddled home.

Anointing, Baptism, adoption

Gilbert Meilaender, professor at Valparaiso University, wrote this letter to his adopted son. Dear Derke, Has it occurred to you that every Christian is adopted? That’s what St. Paul says in Galatians chapter 4. God sent his Son Jesus, so that we might receive adoption as sons.” And because we have become God’s children by adoption, he has “sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, ‘Abba! Father!’” That’s the good news. We’ve been adopted. By God’s grace, we are all adoptees. Think, for instance, of what we believe happens in baptism. Parents hand their child over to God in baptism and the child becomes part of that new family, the body of Christ. In other words, parents acknowledge, that important and dear to us as our families are, it is even more important to be taken by adoption into that new family in which we learn to name as our Father the One whom Jesus called his Father. So we relinquish our children and then receive them back – not as our possession but as those God gives us to care for.” Back to Professor Meilaender, in his letter to his adopted son, he goes on to give great insight to the love of God. He says that a parent’s love for an adopted child is a special love. …biological parents are, in a way, obligated to love their children, while adoptive parents do not act from obligation. Because God adopts us, we understand that God is under no obligation to love us. So, why then, does God love us? Well, how can I answer that question (my son) except with another (question)?” Why do I love you? I love you just because I do. And – likewise – God loves us just because God does. We have no claims on God. We cannot plead the importance of biological kinship. We can only learn to be grateful that, for his own mysterious reasons, God loves us and has adopted us as his children.

Anointing, Baptism, anointing, image, blessing, mirror, Fred Craddock Ben Hooper

Fred Craddock, famous preacher and teacher of preaching, was in Gatlinburg, Tennessee with his wife. They were enjoying dinner together when an elderly man came over to the table. The man obviously had a story to tell, and he didn’t know the Craddocks so he sighted them as a fresh audience. The man spoke, “Hey, my name is Ben Hooper, what is yours?” “Mine is Fred Craddock.” Then the older gentleman said, “What do you do?” Craddock replied, “I am a professor of homiletics at a seminary,” thinking that lofty title would scare him away. Then the old hillbilly said, “Oh, you’re a preacher.” He pulled up a chair and sat down and said, “Hey, I got a preacher story. Mind if I join you?” Considering the guy was already sitting there, what could Fred say?

5 Ben Hooper began his tale, “I grew up in those hills over there. I was what they called an illegitimate child. They called me names everywhere I went. When I went to school I always sat in the back of the room because I was ashamed of who I was. When I walked down the street, I had this terrible feeling that everyone was looking at me and saying, "I wonder who his father is?” My mother would never tell me who my father was. I never knew. I was so ashamed. “When I was thirteen years old, a preacher came to town one day and everybody was talking about how good he was. I wanted to see this new preacher. I snuck after the service had started so no one would see me. Then I snuck out before it was over so that no one would speak to me. I have to admit that he was a good preacher. I went back the next Sunday and the nest Sunday always sneaking in late and sneaking out early so that no one could speak to me. One Sunday though, the sermon was so good that I forgot to leave. And before I knew what was happening they had sung the last hymn and everyone was pushing out into the aisle. I tried to get out of the church, but before I could make my way through the crowd, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned and I looked. It was the preacher. He was 6’4” and dressed in black. He looked down at me and he said, “Hey, son. What’s your name? Whose boy are you? Who’s your father? Whose son are you?” Then Ben said, “Mr., when he asked me whose son I was, I almost started to cry. I felt so hurt. Then he suddenly said, “I know ho you are. I know who your father is. There is such a close family resemblance I couldn’t have missed it no matter how hard I tried.” I looked up into that preacher’s face because I felt that maybe he knew who I was. Maybe he held the secret to my identity. And he looked down at me and said, “I know who you are. You look just like your father.” Then he said to me, “You are a child of God.” Then Ben said, “Mr., that simple statement changed my life. And that’s my preacher story. He told the Craddocks his preacher story and then walked away. A waitress came over. She asked the Craddocks, “Do you know who that was?” Fred is very good with names and replied, “Ben Hooper?” “That’s right,” she said. “Ben Hooper, the governor of Tennessee.” You are loved by God. Not with a value recognizing love, but a value giving love. You are freed to live, to grow, to try, to reach, to love. The good news of the gospel. Thanks be to God.

Anointing: Particular, vocation, calling

To be real is simply to be you. That’s who you are called to be. An aging Rabbi was asked, “Moshe, are you ready to die?” Moshe replied, “Yes. I am ready to die. I am ready to die because I am confident that when I die and see God. God won’t ask me, ‘Moshe, were you Moses? Moshe, were you Solomon?’ God will ask me, ‘Moshe, were you Moshe?’ And I will say, ‘Yes, Lord, I was the best Moshe I could be.’ And God will say, ‘Well done, that’s what I wanted for the world, for you to be Moshe.’ And together we will laugh.’” Be you. Be not some other you. Be the real you. You are God’s gift to the world. What does being the real you mean? Be authentic. An old story that dates back a thousand years, I was invited to a fancy event and when I got there, one of the guests said, “Tukaram, your shirt is on backwards and so are your pants, and it looks like your hair never heard the word comb, and your shoes don’t match.” I replied, “Thanks, I noticed all that before leaving, but why try to fool anyone (for I am a backwards person, I am disheveled, and I seldom match. I dressed as I am.)

6 Anxiety and Fear: footsteps and shadows There once was a man who had two great fears, shadows and footsteps. One day, he looked over his shoulder to see his shadow. Frightened, he started running. As he ran, he heard footsteps and became more afraid. The faster he ran the more footsteps he heard. He finally died of exhaustion.

Once a monk, while praying in his room, saw a large spider descending in front of him. Each day, as he began to pray, the spider would descend and he would run away. After several days of interrupted prayer, he went to the kitchen and returned with a butcher knife. On the way back to his room, he saw Sophia in the hallway. “Where are you going?” Sophia asked. “I’m going back to my room to pray,” he said. “How are you going to pray with a knife?” Sophia asked. “Everyday, as I begin my prayers, a spider drops from the ceiling and interrupts me. Today, I’m going to kill the giant spider with this knife.” “Fine,” said Sophia. “Before you stab the spider, get some paint and mark it with an X.” The student did as Sophia instructed. He started to pray, the large spider descended in front of him. He painted it with an X. As soon as he painted the X, the spider disappeared. Puzzled, he got up and walked around his room. He looked in the mirror to see a large X painted on his head.

Anxiety: create future we’re afraid of, Eric Blumenthal

Psychologist Eric Blumenthal reported that in India people frequently die after being bitten by nonpoisonous snakes. Many snakes in India are poisonous, and many people are bitten and die. But sometimes, after the person dies, the snake that bit him is found, in the home for example, and found not to be poisonous. The expectation that the snake was poisonous can be so strong, the expectation alone can kill. To show the danger of fear, Blumenthal also cited a train depot worker at his job loading the refrigerator car of a train. After the car was loaded, while one employee was still inside, another shut and locked the door. The man inside yelled and pounded on the door, but no one heard him, and all went home. Besides forgetting to check the inside of the car to make sure everyone was out, the errant employee also forgot to turn on the refrigeration unit. The man trapped inside was certain the unit had been turned on, certain it would be another town and twenty-four hours before anyone opened the door, certain he wouldn’t survive. His certainty became a self fulfilling prophecy. The next day they opened the car. The temperature inside was quite normal, but the man’s lifeless body showed some signs of hypothermia. Your parents warned you about lightening, about snakes, and about the opposite sex – but did they warn you how dangerous your fears could be all by themselves?

Eckhardt Tolle said, “For many of us, our minds use us, rather than us using our minds.”

Anxiety: create our future, relive our past, rather than moment, bike ride and crashes

I generally like rules. Rules are helpful. I usually don’t break them without some forethought. So when I tell you I broke a law, I want you to know that I take rules very seriously, at least most of them. Riding my bicycle on the ample shoulder of a four lane road near our home, ideal weather, wind resistance low, my anticipation high, after a day saturated with the desire to be outside, I was finally

7 free. Once finally mounting my metal steed, I strode forward and away from work and home with the zeal of a man recently given a governor’s pardon. Pedaling faster than my body had hoped, celebrating the limitless though crowded road in front of me, I sailed through the first red light and onto the second, both T intersections, road free on my side, shoulder abounding. With no concern of anyone crossing my path, I came alongside a rush hour line of predominantly SUV’s waiting at the second light. Due to the size of the SUV’s stopped alongside me, I couldn’t see the green lighted traffic, but since they were only turning right and left I gave them little thought, until I sailed to the intersection and saw the car. My assumption that no one would pass in front of me at this particular intersection needed a qualifier: no one would cross in front of me, unless they were going into a driveway of a house I had never noticed before. The car, which seemed to appear out of nowhere, was heading into the driveway. SUV’s to the left of me, trees to the right, and this new manifested obstacle directly in front, I squeezed my brakes. I quickly awoke to a maintenance issue I had let lapse. I had neglected to replace my rear brakes which I then understood to be quite worn. The reason I was aware of the deficient brake pads on the bike’s rear was that as I grasped both brake handles, my front tire held while my rear tire kept moving, propelling the back end of my bike skyward. I have ridden enough to know that a healthy stop requires a deceleration of both front and rear tires. Just shy of ninety degrees, rather than having my rear tire pass my front, I let go of both brakes. That’s when I introduced myself to the passenger of the car in front of me. The woman was obviously quite startled. She didn’t see me coming. She was looking straight ahead. I thought, “Boy, will she be surprised.” She was. I smashed into the passenger side of the car, startling both passenger and driver alike. The passenger turned to look at me, my face smushed against the glass of her window. Instinctively, both her hands went up protecting herself from my body which had become a fleshy projectile momentarily halted in time and space by her window. I imagine she was even more surprised by my disappearance, for as I had so quickly appeared inches from her face, gravity took over and I vanished from sight, falling to the ground. I fared better than the car ($1700 in damage). I healed on my own. A couple of weeks later, I took my bike to the shop. No problem to the frame. I had gears tuned up, the chain and brakes replaced. In thinking about my next bicycle ride, I realized that my attitude about cars had changed. Whereas I once saw a busy street as an opportunity for fun, I then, post accident, envisioned a crowded road as a frightful place where cars appeared out of nowhere. For my own safety and wellbeing, I sought a trek free from materializing automobiles, so I went to ride in Warner Park. The roads in Warner Park present a challenging ride full of hills and curves with canopies of trees stretching out over the road, but most importantly, Warner Park is relatively car free. As I started my ride, my accident still forefront in my thoughts, I was only semi-sure I wouldn’t encounter a car here, hadn’t I been sure before? I also wondered about the barrier-free sides of the road, some of which had hills that dropped thirty feet or more. “What might happen here?” I asked and my anxious mind answered with visions of me skidding or sliding down embankment after embankment into tree after tree. As I rode along, I noticed some differences in my bike since the tune up, particularly that my brakes were tight compared to the nonexistent ones I had before. I decided that, to be safe, I should test them out to see just how tight, after all, I didn’t want to have another accident. I gave them a good squeeze. At that point, and only then, did I realize the sharpness of the curve I was on and the dampness of the road. Other roads were dry, but because the park was so well shaded by hill and tree, the road was wet, and mossy, this I discovered because when I squeezed my rear brakes, my back tire slid out from under me, and bike and I went sliding along the pavement. Pants and shirt absorbed some of the slide, until they shredded. Then it was simply skin meeting asphalt.

8 I limply peddled back toward the car. I passed a walker who, upon viewing my shredded clothes and raw skin uttered a shocked, “Oh!” After great effort, I returned to my car, loaded the bike, and left the park. It was then that Jesus appeared in the passenger seat beside me. “Full minds create chaos,” he said. I was in no mood for education. “Have you ever heard the saying, When the student is ready, the teacher will appear?” I asked. “What do you think?” he replied. “I think I’ll live,” I said. “‘I think I’ll live’ is the answer to the question, ‘Are you okay?’” “I know you’ll live,” he said. “I’m Jesus.” “Right,” I said. “And because I’m Jesus,” he continued, “I knew you might miss this prime learning opportunity.” “Learning opportunity?” I asked. “Yes,” he said. “Every thing that happens to you, every experience you have, is a learning opportunity. You can learn so much from life if you simply pay attention.” I said nothing. Jesus sighed. He continued, “It saddens me to think just how many opportunities are missed because people, because you, don’t pay attention. Full minds don’t learn much.” “No?” I asked as if interested in the conversation. My leg and hip were hurting, probably due to the lack of flesh where my skin once was. I tried to ignore the throbbing enough to drive and not have Jesus telling me later how painful legs create car crashes. He talked some more. I’m sure it was wise, but I didn’t hear any of it. I tuned back in once I settled on the main road out of the park. “Full minds don’t learn much,” Jesus continued. “However, they do create much.” “Full minds create?” I asked. “Yes,” he said. “Full minds create chaos. Weren’t you paying attention?” “I…” I had nothing, so I just hushed and looked at the road. “Your full mind,” Jesus said, “created your accident.” My curiosity distracted me from my leg. “What?” I asked. “I thought gravity created my accident.” “Gravity affected your destination when you fell, but your fall started in your mind. Your fear imagined an accident. Your body created the accident in response to your mind. Your mind, full of fear and thoughts of pain, created the chaos of your fall and the pain you’re now experiencing.” “Full minds create chaos,” I said repeating him. “Right,” he said, “your mind was full of accident, so, chaotically, you created what you were afraid of, another accident. See?” he asked. “A learning opportunity.” “Right,” I said. He looked over to my hip. “That road rash will serve as a reminder, serve as a book mark in the book of you.” “The book of me?” I asked. “Yes,” Jesus said. “Think of your life as a book. Read your life like you read a book for every experience is…” “I know,” I said. “An opportunity to learn. That’s just great. I do just love learning opportunities.” It was almost as if my leg itself were talking through me to Jesus. “Out of curiosity, wise teacher, couldn’t you have appeared a little sooner? Maybe, as I was starting the ride? Don’t you think that lesson would have been a little timelier?” “What would you have wanted me to say?” Jesus asked. “How about ‘Be careful?’” I said. “That wouldn’t have helped,” Jesus replied. “You were already so full of care and concern that you created an accident. Maybe I should have said, ‘Your brakes are very tight so don’t squeeze them hard unless you want to slide down the road on your ass.’”

9 ‘Could this really be Jesus?’ I asked myself. ‘Would Jesus use language my mother would find offensive?’ “You should hear the language your mother uses in her own mind,” Jesus said. “Full minds create chaos,” I repeated. “So my mind was full of fear.” “Fear,” he said, “and images.” “Images?” I asked. “Images,” he continued. “In this case, images of what might happen. Those are fabricated in response to your fears. In this instance, your mind was so full of what might happen that you missed paying attention, and in fact, facilitated what you were afraid of, all because your mind was full. Empty minds pay attention. Full minds create chaos, and pain. Lots of pain.” “I understand what you mean about pain,” I said as my leg was beginning to throb. We rode along together for a while. “Say, you’re known as ‘the great physician,’” I said. “So, what do you think, O’ surgeon divine, what should I do to treat my hip and leg.” Jesus looked over at my wound, “If it were me,” he said, “I’d go see a doctor.” And he was gone. went.

anxiety: parenting:

There once was a king who was so worried that he couldn’t sleep at night. He was worried, not because things were going badly in his kingdom, but because things were going well. Things had been going so well since he took his father’s throne, so well that he knew they couldn’t go that well for long. So he worried. One evening, as he sat on his throne, the young prince of four years old sitting beside him, he called his advisors before him. “Sages, I am troubled as king. I am worried for the future and I need your help. The one of you that gives me the best advice will receive this as his reward.” In the kings hand he held a very precious jewel. “What I want to know is, what is the most important thing for me to do as king, and when should I do it?” Advisor after advisor came, with suggestions on planning, diet, exercise… none seemed to answer the king’s question of what he should do and when he should do it. The king became bored, but not as bored as the young prince sitting next to him. The young prince rocked in his chair. He tottered then fell over backward. He wasn’t hurt but he was stuck underneath his chair and couldn’t get up. The king was so busy thinking about the future of the kingdom that he didn’t notice his young son fall over. “Father…” the boy cried out. “Not now my son, I’m listening to my advisors…sort of…” “Father, I need you…” “Not now…” “Father, I need you now!” The king looked over to his son, seeing his imprisonment he got up from his throne and turned over the chair and rescued his son. “You did need me now, didn’t you?” the king asked, and there was his answer. “Thank you, my sages,” he said to his advisors, “I appreciate your help. But the best answer came today from my son.” Then he handed the prince the jewel. “The best thing for me to do as king is act, the best time to act is always now, for now is all that I have.”

10 He called for his son. Took him into his arms. He held him tight. He laughed. “I love being with you,” he said. Then, so soft only his son could hear it, he said, “Ahhh…”1

Anxiety: Room of 1,000 Demons

Long ago, in Tibet, there was a ceremony, held every hundred years, which Buddhist students could undergo in order to attain enlightenment. All the students would line up in their white robes. The lamas – the Tibetan priests – and the Dalai Lama would line up before the students. The Dalai Lama would begin the ceremony by saying, “This is the ceremony of the Room of 1000 Demons. It is a ceremony for enlightenment, and it happens only once every hundred years. If you choose not to go through it now, you will have to wait another hundred years. To help you make this decision, we’ll tell you what the ceremony involves. “In order to enter the Room of 1000 Demons, you just open the door and walk in. The Room of 1000 Demons is not very big. Once you enter, the door will close behind you. There is no doorknob on the inside of the door. In order to get out, you will have to walk all the way through the room, find the door on the other side, open the door, which is unlocked, and come out. Then you will be enlightened. “The room is called the Room of 1000 Demons because there are one thousand demons in there. Those demons have the ability to take on the form of your worst fears... As soon as you walk into the room, those demons show you your worst fears. If you have a fear of heights, when you walk into the room it will appear as if you are standing on a narrow ledge of a tall building. If you have a fear of spiders, you’ll be surrounded by the most terrifying eight-legged creatures imaginable. Whatever your fears are, the demons take those images from your mind and seem to make them real. In fact, they’ll be so compellingly real that it will be very difficult to remember that they’re not. “We can’t come in and rescue you. That is part of the rules. If you go into the Room of 1000 Demons, you must leave it on your own… “If you want to enter the room, we have two hints for you. The first hint: As soon as you enter the Room of 1000 Demons, remember that what they show you isn’t real. It’s all from your own mind. Don’t buy into it; it’s an illusion... The second hint has been more helpful for the people who made it out the other side and became enlightened. Once you go into the room, no matter what you see, no matter what you feel, no matter what you hear, no matter what you think, keep your feet moving. If you keep your feet moving, you will eventually get to the other side, find the door, and come out.”2 Do you have a room of 1,000 demons? Can you step out of it?

Baptism, beloved, Martin Luther King, mutual respect, image, unity, conflict

Martin Luther King said, In the final analysis, says the Christian ethic, every (person) must be respected because God loves him (or her). The worth of an individual does not lie in the measure of his intellect, his racial origin, or his social position. Human worth lies in relatedness to God. An individual has value because he has value to God. Whenever this is recognized, “whiteness” and “blackness” pass away as determinants in a relationship and “son” and “brother”, (“daughter” and “sister”) are substituted.3

1 I searched for the source of this story and couldn’t find it. I’m not sure if I read it or heard it, but to the unnamed author, please accept my apology for not crediting you and my gratitude for a wonderful story, one essential to this chapter. 2 Bill O’Hanlon (1999) Do One Thing Different: Ten Simple Ways to Change Your Life. 3 THE ETHICAL DEMANDS FOR INTEGRATION, A Testament of Hope p. 122 11 Baptism, blessing, love of God, adoption

In the early 1960’s, Addie Blair was working at an adoption agency. The first time she saw Freddie, he gave her a toothy smile. “What a beautiful baby,” was her first thought. Then she noticed that Freddie was born without any arms. The nurse that was with Freddie said to her, “He’s so smart. He’s only ten months old and already he walks and talks.” She kissed him. “Say ‘book’ for Mrs. Blair.” Freddie grinned at her and head his head on the nurse’s shoulder. “Such a good boy,” the nurse said. “You won’t forget him, will you Mrs. Blair? You’ll find a home for him, won’t you?” “I’ll do my best.” She went upstairs and got out her latest copy of the Hard to Place list. “He’s ready for adoption,” she thought, “but who’s ready for him?” Many couples passed through the adoption agency: couples having interviews, meeting babies, families with new beginnings. These couples always had the same dream: they want a child as much like themselves as possible, as young as possible, and most important – a child with no health or medical problems. “If he or she develops one later, that will be fine, but to start out with one is too much.” And who can blame them? Summer slipped into fall, Freddie was still with them after his first birthday. Addie went to see a prospective family to do a home study. They were Frances and Edwin Pearson. She was 41. He was 45. She was a housewife. He was a truck driver. They lived in a tiny white framed house in a big yard full of sun and old trees. They grreeted Addie together at the door, eager and scared to death. Mrs. Pearson produced steaming coffee and oven-warm cookies. hey sat together on the sofa, and Mrs. Pearson began, “Today is our anniversary. We’ve been together eighteen years.” “Good years,” he added, “except…” “Too neat. You know?” Addie thought of her own living room with her three children and nodded her head. “Perhaps we are too old,” Mrs. Pearson said. “You don’t think so,” said Addie, “and we don’t either.” “We’ve been waiting a long time,” Mr. Pearson said. “Examinations and tests. Over and over. We keep on hoping and hoping, and time keeps slipping by.” “We’ve tried to adopt like this before,” Mrs. Pearson said, “but a friend told us about your agency and we decided to make one last try.” “I’m glad you did,” said Addie. “Can we choose at all,” Mrs. Pearson asked, “a boy for my husband?” “We’ll try for a boy,” Addie said. “What kind of boy?” Mrs. Pearson laughed, “How many kinds are there? Just a boy. My husband is very athletic. He played football in high school; basketball, too, and track. He would be good for a boy.” “I know you can’t tell us exactly, but how long do you think it will take.” “Maybe by next summer?” Mrs. Pearson added. “Maybe we could take him to the beach.” “That long?” asked Mr. Pearson. “Don’t you have anyone at all. There must be a boy somewhere. Of course we can’t give him as much as other people. We haven’t got a lot of money saved up.” “We’ve got a lot of love,” his wife said, “we’ve saved a lot of that.” “Well,” said Addie, “there is a little boy. He is 13 months old.” “Oh, a beautiful age,” said Mrs. Pearson. “I have a picture of him,” Addie said as she pulled it from her brief case. “He’s a wonderful little boy, but he was born without any arms.” The room was silent as the couple looked at the picture and then at each other. “What do you think, Fran.” “Kickball,” she said. “You could teach him kickball.” 12 “Awe, athletics aren’t so important. He can learn to use his head. Arms he can do without. A head, never. He can go to college. We’ll save for it.” “A boy is a boy,” Mrs. Pearson said, “he needs to play. You can teach him.” “I’ll teach him. Arms aren’t everything. Maybe we can get him some.” “Then you’d like to see him?” Addie asked. They looked up at her. “When can we have him?” “You think you might want him?” Mrs. Pearson looked at Addie in disbelief. “Might? Might? We want him. We know we want him.” She looked at the picture again, “You’ve been waiting for us, haven’t you?” “His name is Freddie. But you can change it.” “Freddie Pearson. It sounds good together,” Mr. Pearson said. By the time they formalities were finished, it was Christmas. The new parents went to the agency to meet their son. “I’ve got butterflies,” Mrs. Pearson said, “suppose he doesn’t like us.” Freddie said goodbye to his house parent, “Going home,” he kept saying down the hall. Addie got to the door and put Freddie down on his feet. She opened the door to the waiting room. “Merry Christmas,” she said. The Pearsons looked at their new son. Mr. Pearson got down on one knee and said, “Freddie, come here. Come to Daddy. Freddie looked back at Addie for a moment and slowly walked toward them. They reached their arms wide and took him in.

Baptism, Church community and unity, beyond age

I heard it from Rodger Nishioka who is now assistant professor for Christian education at Columbia Seminary. When this story happened, he was volunteering at a church in Louisville for as a youth advisor. Scott and his mother had just moved to Louisville after a painful divorce in New Jersey. Scott was a junior and left behind his high school, his friends, a starting position on the basketball team, and his girlfriend. He was not happy about being in Louisville. His mom asked Rodger to help him get connected to the church. Scott came to youth group a couple of times but never felt part of the group so he stopped coming. Rodger wasn’t sure what to do, so he asked the session of the church to pray for Scott and his mom. Janet Simmons was on that session. She was a power bowler and a power knitter. During each session meeting, she would knit, knit, knit. She could knit half a sweater in one session meeting. At the end of the meeting, she would hold up what she had knitted and say, “At least something concrete was done to advance the kingdom of God tonight.” Before church one Sunday, she asked Rodger, “Which is the kid you wanted us to pray for?” Rodger pointed him out. They always sat in the same place. His mother had made an agreement with Scott that he would at least go to church every Sunday. He didn’t have to go to Sunday School, but they would go to church together. Scott made her sit as close to the door as possible so that after church was over, he could get out as fast as possible. After church was over, Janet went up to Scott (she hurried to the back to catch him before he left) and said, “Scottie, (a very uncool thing for her to do – call him ‘Scottie’) I’m Janet. I love you, and I’m praying for you.” Then she gave him a hug. (Another uncool thing for her to do – give him a hug without asking.) Every Sunday, she would find Scott and say, “Scottie, I love you, and I’m praying for you.” And give him a big hug.

13 Some Sundays, she got distracted talking to someone and Scott got out the door before she could find him. She would run out to his car and with him sitting in it, tap on the window and say, “Scottie, I haven’t hugged you. Please get out of your car.” Scott would open the door and climb out and she would say, “Scottie, I love you and I’m praying for you.” And give him a big hug. And Scott would say, “Thanks, lady.” One Sunday, Janet wasn’t there. Scott always looked for her, like a cat always look to see if the neighborhood dog is around, afraid he’s going to get pounced on. Scott heard in the announcements that Janet was in the hospital. She had blood clots in her leg. It was very scary. After church, Scott was driving and said to his mom, “Mom is the hospital where that weird lady is staying on our way home?” “No, it’s downtown.” “Mom, can it be on our way home?” His mom didn’t get it, “No, it’s way down town.” “Mom, can we go and see her?” They pulled into the hospital, and Scott’s mom had to run to keep up with him as they headed for her room. They went in her door. Janet’s face lit up when she saw Scott. She said, “Scot, I’m so glad you came to see me.” Scott said, “Well, we were just driving around…” Scott leaned over and hugged her. Then pushed her over and he sat on her bed with his arm around her. “So how are you doing Ms. Simmons?” “Well, I’m not doing good. I’m really pretty scared. I haven’t been in the hospital since I birthed my babies.” “You don’t have to be afraid,” Scott said, “I’ve been praying for you and asking God to take care of you this whole year. I’d say, ‘God, please take care of that weird lady.’” Then Scott hopped up and said, “Well, gotta go.” Scott’s mom said, “Scott, we just got here. I want to visit with Janet.” “Fine, I’ll wait for you in the car.” The two ladies laughed together. Cried together. And they prayed together. When Janet Simmons came back to church two weeks later, Scott was looking for her. She came in with a walker, and as soon as she stepped in the church, Scott grabbed her and pulled her into his pew. After the sermon, they walked out of the church together.

Baptism, image, blessing, mirror

Let me tell you what I think by sharing a story with you. There once was an old chair that was never used or sat upon. It was pushed into a corner. Every so often the owners of the house would look at that old chair and say, “We have got to take that chair to the dump and throw it away.” But as those things go, they never thought about it when they had the time so the chair just sat there in the corner. This made the old chair very sad. It wanted to be used so badly. It wanted to be valued. Yet over and over again, the chair was overlooked. Family would come visit, they would bring extra chairs to the table, but not the old chair. A party would be thrown, people would sit everywhere, but not on the old chair. They would rather stand or sit on the floor. The chair felt worse and worse. “If only someone would sit on me! Use me! Then I would feel worthwhile.”

14 One day an angel was passing by the house, it heard the cries of the old chair. The angel thought for a moment, then transformed his appearance to a distinguished gentleman. The angel then knocked on the door. The owners of the house opened the door to hear, “I am an antique salesman, I was just traveling in the area looking for an auction, but have lost my way. Might I come in and rest for a moment?” “Certainly,” the owners of the house replied. Entering the house, the angel disguised as an antique salesman spied the old chair and said, “My! What a lovely piece. That is just what I have been looking for. Won’t you please sell it to me?” “Sell it to you?” the owners asked. They looked at one another. They spoke in whispers. “The antique salesman wants to buy our old chair. It must be very valuable. Lets fix it up for ourselves.” “Thank you,” they replied, “but we don’t want to sell.” The angel left and the old chair was moved to a prominent place in the house. Now when people come to the house, they see the antique chair and they say, “What a lovely chair.” To which the owners reply, “It is the most valuable thing we own.”4

Baptism, Naming, Characters in literature - names tell you who they are, Beloved

Naming is always important. Consider in literature, there are some characters that you just know who they are by their names. I’ve shared this with you before, but I worked pretty hard on this list so I’m going to share it again. Think about names in literature… The Call of the Wild has the sizeable dog Buck, a strong name, but at the same time familial. The story in a name, Buck comes out of a family and into the wild. In Harry Potter, the evil character has a name no one was supposed to say. “He who must not be named,” Valdemort, a mysterious, ominous name. The feeling would be much different if “He who must not be named” was “Skippy.” “Oh, no, it’s Skippy.” In similar fashion, in The Lord of the Rings, the villains are Sauron and Sauromon, which sound like Serpent or Satan. In Dickinson’s books, you know what type of person a character is by their name like Jingle, The Artful Dodger, Toots, and Tiny Tim. Shakespeare was similar with Feeble, Fang, Dull, and Belch. In literature, some characters are so strong, they become types. We say that someone is a: Romeo, Tarzan, Scrooge, Holmes, or a Jekyll and Hyde. This is also true of many people as well, people we still remember today for their skill. There was somebody who was so good with a bow and arrow, that someone said, “Archer, you are really good with that bow and arrow.” Later they saw someone else and said, “You’re good with a bow and arrow, you are almost as good as ol’ Archer.” Then, “You’re quite an Archer” and “Archer” then means “good with a bow and arrow.” The same thing happened with Baker, somebody name baker could make tasty cakes and pastries, so good that anybody who was good at cooking became a baker. It’s also true with brewers, butchers, carpenters, cooks, farmers, fishers, goldsmiths, masons, millers, parsons, potters, shepherds, smiths, tailors, and weavers. Someone was good at it and they made a name for themselves by their ability. Some people made a name for themselves by what they made. For example, the sandwich comes from the Earl of Sandwich who was in a hurry to get something to eat on his way to go hunting and instead of taking the time to eat the bread and eat the meat, he threw them together, and tah-dah! The sandwich was born. Some people just looked different. Apparently US civil war general Abrose Burnside had some distinctive facial hair and then, tah-dah, sideburns. That’s why the name Jesus is so powerful.

4 Charles Arcodia, Stories for Sharing, p.39. 15 Many of the names in the Bible that refer to our Lord are nothing less than palatial and august: Son of God, The Lamb of God, The Light of the World, The Resurrection and the Life, The Bright and Morning Star, Alpha and Omega. They are phrases that stretch the boundaries of human language in an effort to capture the uncapturable, the grandeur of God. But the angel doesn’t tell Joseph to name him any of these. “Joseph, name him Alpha and Omega. Name him Bright Morning Star.” When John the Baptizer sees him, he doesn’t say, “Behold, Alpha and Omega who takes away the sins of the world!” No, the angel says, “Name him Jesus.” Those other names have such grandeur but the angel said, JESUS. Matthew call him JESUS. In the days of Jesus, Jesus was a common name. There were at least five high priests known as Jesus. The writings of the historian Josephus refer to about twenty people called Jesus. The New Testament speaks of Jesus Justus, the friend of Paul,1 and the sorcerer of Paphos is called Bar-Jesus2. Some manuscripts give Jesus as the first name of Barabbas. “Which would you like me to release to you—Jesus Barabbas or Jesus called the Messiah?”3 In Jesus’ day, Jesus is as common as John, Bob, or Tom is today. Imagine the angel, “She will give birth to your first born son, and you are to name him…” Matthew is quiet, the angel is about to tell you the name of your child, he takes a deep breath, God has picked a name… And you will name him, “Bob.” Behold, “Bob, the lamb of God that takes away the sins of the world.” Really? You’d ask. “Bob?” That’s why the very idea of JESUS being born of a virgin was the hard part to swallow, the, what Paul called, foolishness of the gospel. But that’s how he works. Consider the Magi, they see a star, they know a king has been born, they go to the palace in Jerusalem. Now we are getting somewhere, now we are getting a glimpse into how God works in the world. “Really?” Everybody asks. “Bethlehem?” The beginning of the gospel of John is, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. …” Very high language, but John goes on, “And the Word became flesh and lived among us,” dwelt among us… That’s Jesus. So surprising. Us. Have you seen a church as close to Bethlehem as this one. This summer after the flood, we looked like that little wilting Christmas tree in the Charlie Brown Christmas special. Before we did the renovation, we talked about moving, but realized that 100% in the flood plane doesn’t give you much of a marketable value. But the good news is that he shows up in the very lives of Marys, of Beths, of Joes, Johns, Peters, of us. He’s not in the palatial palaces, with the Caesars, any more than he’s in the low places, the flood planes. Your life and mine. This points us to the heart of God, how God works in the world. 16 Did it happen? Was Jesus born of a virgin? Sure. But more importantly, does it happen? Yes. Oh, yes. All the time. God comes to us. With us. Among us. The angel says, “Name him Jesus.” And you can call him Emmanuel. God with us. All of us. The good news of the gospel. Thanks be to God.

Baptism, prove value through Self Images, clothing, mirror, value,

In Charleston, West Virginia, a man went into a men’s clothing store and bought a nice suit, a fine suit. He spent more money on that suit than he had on any item of clothing he ever had, on anything he had for himself ever. He spent so much money on it that he had them do the alterations while he waited and then he wore the suit out of the store. In his new suit, he walked down the street. He was looking at himself in the store windows when a friend walked up. “Hey, what do you think of my new suit?” The friend looked him over. “It’s nice. But one sleeve is longer than the other.” He went back into the men’s store. “Hey, one sleeve on my new suit is longer than the other.” The clerk said, “It sure is. We can fix that, just pull it up a little and clamp your elbow down on it and no one will notice.” Out he went back onto the street, when he bumped into another friend. “How do you like my suit?” he asked. “It’s nice, but that lapel is hanging off your shoulder uneven with the other one.” Back into the store he went. “Your right,” said the clerk, “Hold your elbow like this, and just pinch the lapel with your chin.” Back out into the street. He saw his mother. “New suit,” he said to her. She looked him around. “What’s wrong with the seat of your pants?” Back to the store he went. “Look, I paid a lot for this suit. I’m a little upset.” The clerk responded, “We can fix it. Here is the deal. Squeeze the sleeve with your elbow. Put your chin like on the lapel. And take two fingers and pinch the pants in the back.” Out the store he went, proud as ever. Across the street were two medical students. One said to the other, “look at that guy. He must have been in a terrible car accident.” “Yes,” said the other, “but isn’t it a good looking suit?”

Baptism: Beloved, Negro League stories

Before there was the major leagues of today, baseball was separated by color. In the early days of professional baseball in America, you could be from any other country and play in the majors, as long as you were white. If you weren’t white, not even your citizenship mattered, not even your ability mattered. It didn’t matter how good you were. If you were a person of color, you couldn’t play. Since people of color couldn’t play in the major leagues, the black players formed their own leagues with their own games.

17 One of the first people who realized there was money to be made in such a league was Andrew “Rube” Foster. “Rube” was a manager/player for much of his career in the negro leagues. He led his Chicago American Giants to a 123 win -6 loss record one season. One of my favorite quotes from Rube was this (he was talking about pitching), “I have smiled often with the bases full with two strikes and three balls on the batter. This seems to unnerve him.” One of the things that made Rube special is that he had not just physical skill, but skill in psychology and managing. He had a brilliant baseball mind. Yet, like all black players and managers with skill in those days, Rube was told, “If you were only white…” “If you were only white, you’d be successful in the major leagues…" Like all black players and managers, over and over again, voices told Rube that he couldn’t play major league baseball in the white league because of who he wasn’t. Who he wasn’t was he wasn’t white. No matter what his success, for Rube it was never good enough. He couldn’t shake those voices telling him who he wasn’t. In 1926, he had to be institutionalized, hospitalized in a mental institution. He was suffering from several delusions, one was that he was about to receive a call to pitch in the white world series. The defining voice for Rube was a voice that told him who he wasn’t, he wasn’t white. It literally drove him crazy. Then there was Josh Gibson. Gibson was perhaps the greatest hitter of all time in baseball of any color. In league and non league games he hit 70 home runs one year. In his short career it is estimated (because they didn’t keep statistics then like they do today) that he could have hit 1,000 home runs. His home runs were hit so hard many of them were called ‘quick’ home runs. They were so fast and hit so hard that they would clear the ball park fence before the outfielders could turn their heads to watch them go. He hit the longest home runs in many stadiums including Yankee Stadium, the “House that Ruth Built”. Many fans called him the ‘black Babe Ruth’. Those who watched him often said that Ruth should have been called the ‘white Josh Gibson.’ That’s how good he was, but because he was black, all his life, Josh had heard, “If only you were white…” “If only you were white, you’d be successful in the major leagues…” Like Rube Foster, the defining voice for Josh Gibson was a voice that told him who he wasn’t, he wasn’t white (it wasn’t that he wasn’t good enough) he simply wasn’t white. Like Rube Foster, it literally drove him crazy. When the first black player got called to the majors, Jackie Robinson, Gibson went into depression. His body was failing. He knew they wouldn’t call him and that his baseball career was probably over. He lapsed into prolonged silences, he heard voices no one else could hear, threatened suicide, and held long imaginary conversations in which he tried in vain to persuade Joe DiMaggio to recognize him. When he died in 1947, many said he died of a broken heart.

Then there was Leroy ‘Satchel’ Page. He got the nick name ‘Satchel’ when he took a job as a child carrying bags at the depot. He came up with a handle so that he could carry more bags than others and his friends called him “Satchel.” The nick name took. Like Babe Ruth, he got in trouble as a boy and was sent to reform school. There he learned that he could play baseball except not a hitter like Ruth, but a pitcher. Once, when he was looking for work, he went to watch his brother practice. His brother played for a black semi pro team the Mobile Tigers. After the practice was over, the catcher and the manager stayed on the field. A kid sitting on the front row walked onto the field. The kid stood on the pitcher’s mound. The manager grabbed a bat. The kid pitched and the manager creamed several of his balls over the

18 fence. The boy was obviously trying out for the team. Satchel thought, “If he could try out, so could I. I’m a better pitcher.” Satchel walked onto the field and asked the manager if he could try. The manager told him to go home because he was tired. Satchel told him who his brother was and convinced him to give him a shot. “Where have you pitched,” the manager asked. “Around,” was Satchel’s reply. Satchel threw a few warm ups. They felt good. He bet they hadn’t heard a ball pop into a mitt like those pitches. “I’m ready for you, mister,” Satchel said. The man stepped to the plate. Satchel threw ten pitches. The man swung ten times. Ten strikes. Satchel smiled. The manager smiled. “Can you throw that fast consistently?” the manager asked. “No sir,” Satchel said, “I do it all the time.” Satchel said, “That day, I learned a new word.” That was the beginning of his long carreer of more than twenty years. Satchel could pitch that well consistently. In the negro leagues, he pitched the Kansas City Monarchs to the negro league world series. In that series, they played against the Josh Gibson’s homestead Grays. In that series, Satch performed the iron-man feat of pitching in all six games, either as a starter or a reliever. They beat the Grays four games to one with one tie. In the off season, he pitched either south of the border or in barn storming leagues. In barn storming leagues, white teams would play black teams. He played a team or major leaguers Babe Ruth put together. Babe didn’t hit that day. It was a good thing. Chances are ol’ Babe wouldn’t have gotten a hit. Satchel was on his game that day. He struck out 22 batters bettering the major league record. Satchel heard the same voices that Rube Foster and Josh Gibson had heard, the same voices saying, “If only you were white…” “If only you were white, you’d be successful in the major leagues…” Like Rube Foster, Like Josh Bibson, Like all black American of the era, he heard a lot of prejudicial statements. The differene is, those names didn’t define who he was. A manager offered him $500 (a lot of money back then) to put white makeup on his face and pitch in a white minor league game. Satchel said, “No. I’m sure I’d look good in white, but it wouldn’t help. They’d know it was me. Nobody else pitches like Satch.” Those negative voices would not define who Satchel was. In a barnstorming game, someone shouted a slur at him. To show them who ol’ Satch was, he told his outfielders to sit down. They hitters didn’t get one out of the infield. In playing on a mixed barn storming team, some of his own players, his white outfielders, called him a name. They argued in the dugout. Satchel went back out to pitch. The out fielders wouldn’t go onto the field. They refused to play with Satch. There he was, on the mound with no outfield. He figured he didn’t need them. He pitched without them. Three batters came up. Three batters returned to the dugout. He struck out the side. (He made up with the outfielders. They both apologized. Satchel said that no matter how good a pitcher is, sooner or later he’ll need his outfield.) Like all other blacks of the era, Satchel heard those negative voices, but for Satchel those voices spoke about more than color. He had voices like Jeremiah’s. Voices trying to define him because of his age. Except, unlike Jeremiah, these voices weren’t telling Satch he was too young, they were telling him he was too old. When Jackie Robinson got called to play in the majors, one of the reasons they picked him over Satch was because Jackie was younger. They could start him on a minor league team in Canada. Many said that since they didn’t pick Satch then, he’d never get a chance because he was too old. 19 Satch kept playing. His opportunity finally arrived. He got a chance to play for the 5Cleveland Indians... at age 44! In one of his first games he pitched for them, he pitched a shut out. Then he helped them by winning six crucial games toward the end of their pennant race that year. Satch had the same voices Rube Foster and Josh Gibson had, voices that drove them insane. Satch heard the same voices, the same names telling him who he wasn’t. The difference is that Satch wouldn’t be defined by those voices. In the Jeremiah passage, Jeremiah had voices telling him who he wasn’t, “You aren’t old enough. You are too young. If only you were older…”

But more important to Jeremiah was God’s voice. God who said, “Before you were born. I knew you. I chose you. I appointed you. I claimed you.” When Jeremiah heard God’s voice, the other voices, the other names, the other labels didn’t matter.

Baptism: Beloved: Anointing, Hero stories, accept humanity, stupidity, laugh at yourself, don’t take yourself so seriously,

Good hero myths encourage us to live our lives, to be heroic in the midst of being human. They are like Steve Lyons (also a man). Steve Lyons played professional baseball for the Chicago White Sox, a winning team, they finished 2nd in their division in 1990. He was in some ways a superior human. He made the major leagues, something anyone who has played two innings of pee-wee league baseball has dreamed about. He trained. He worked. He made it. Superior! But he also, even though superior in ability, didn’t escape being human. One of the things that fans loved about Steve was how he would reach into the stands and high five anyone who caught a foul ball around him. The other thing fans loved about Steve was his effort. He gave full effort, ran full speed, played hard on every play. On July 16, 1990, the Sox were playing the Tigers in Detroit. Steve bunted and raced down the first- base line. He knew it was going to be close, so he dove at the bag. He slid into first! He was safe. The Tigers pitcher argued the call. Steve joined in the argument. So caught up in the game, and the argument, he forgot where he was. To clean out the dirt from his pants from the slide, without leaving the argument, he dropped his pants… right there in front of 20,000 people. The jaws of 20,000 people dropped. The argument at the plate stopped. The pitcher looked at Steve. The umpire looked at Steve. Then Steve looked at Steve and realized, to his embarrassment, what he was doing. When he left the field that inning, women behind the White Sox dugout waved dollar bills. Point being… Steve captures humanity at a glimpse, he was a superior athlete, yet still human, just as absent minded as the rest of us. Too often, we think of heroes as something non-human. As if, Steve Lyons, being a major league baseball player, isn’t going to forget where he left his keys… certainly anyone who can undress in front of 20,000 people forgetting he’s in public can forget where their keys are! This is a better image, the human fallible and yet capable of greatness. Both at the same time. Good hero myths encourage us to be human, to go out, to live our lives trying to be heroic.

Baptism: Beloved: boy who wants to be ‘possible’ Sophia was sitting with a group of children, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” she asked.

5 Satch said he was 42 some estimates were that he was 46 or 48. The 44 number came from the intro to the biography. 20 “A doctor,” said one. “A teacher,” said another. Each shared their dreams for the future, all except one little child. “What about you?” Sophia asked. “What do you want to be?” “I want to be possible,” was the reply. “Possible, what do you mean?” asked Sophia. “Everyone says to me, ‘You are impossible.’ So, when I grow up, I want to be possible.” “So shall you be,” said Sophia.

Baptism: Beloved: DeVries Baseball story

My friend Mark DeVries shared this story with me. A little ten year old boy on a baseball team. He is lousy at it. He’s got a coach that says, ‘Every kids going to play’. Somehow, this team gets to the championship. Thirty people from this little boys family are there. Even his blind Uncle Charlie. It’s the end of the game. The coach knows the boy has all this family is out there. The tieing run is on third. The winning run is on first. There are two outs. The coach says, “You’re up.” He goes on the field. The crowd goes wild with all thirty of his family screaming. Even blind Uncle Charlie who can’t see a thing. The first pitch. Whiff. “Strike one.” Two more pitches. “Strike two. Strike three.” The other side of the stands go wild. His side of the stands, nothing. The before he gets to the dugout, he pulls his shirt over his head. No one from his team says anything. The coach pats him on the back. He goes down the bleacher and sits on the end. In all the screaming from the other team, the coach says a few words. The team leaves the dug out, except for the little boy, who just sits there with his shirt over his head. He hears gravel crunching as people are leaving. The voices get further away. Then he hears his dad, “Son… Son, the games not over yet.” He pulls the shirt part way off his head. He looks out to see his whole family on the field. Blind Uncle Charlie is playing short stop. “Son, the games not over yet.” His dad gives him a bat. He walks to the plate. His cousin pitches five balls until he hits one past Blind Uncle Charlie who runs around in circles. They play with the ball. Someone throws it to blind Uncle Charlie. He runs around third. Who’s waiting for him? His dad. Arms out streatched. Then the whole family comes in. That’s the image of the church. Not three strikes and you’re out. But swing until you hit. And when you get home. We’ll be there to celebrate. Baptism: Beloved: Henri Nouwen: blessing

Catholic priest and writer Henri Nouwen gave up his teaching position at Yale to serve handicapped adults at a residence facility in New England. Shortly before he was to lead a prayer service in one of the houses, Janet, a handicapped resident came to him and said, “Henri, can you give me a blessing?” Henri responded with a smile and traced the cross with his thumb on her forehead. She just stared back at him. “That didn’t work,” she said. Henri looked at her for a moment, and then said, “How about I give you a real blessing when the whole group is together for the prayer service?” She smiled and nodded her head. After the service with about thirty people sitting together in a circle, Henri said, “Janet has asked me to give 21 her a special blessing. She feels that she could use one right now.” Henri wasn’t sure just what she needed or what he was going to do, but as soon as he said, “Janet has asked me to give her a special blessing,” she stood up and walked to Henri. She wrapped her arms around him, put her head on his chest and gave him a big hug. Without thinking, Henri covered her with the long droopy sleeves of his minister’s robe. Then Henri said, “Janet, I want you to know that you are God’s beloved daughter. You are precious in God’s eyes. Your beautiful smile, your kindness to the people in your house and all the good things you do show us what a beautiful human being you are. I know you feel a little low these days and that there is some sadness in your heart, but I want you to remember who you are: a very special person, deeply loved by God and all the people who are here with you.” As Henri finished these words, Janet raised her head and looked at him. Her broad smile was evidence that she had heard and received the blessing. When she sat back down, Jane, another resident, raised her hand and said, “I want a blessing, too.” She stood up and, hugged Henri with her head against his chest. After he spoke blessings to her, many of the other residents wished to be blessed in the same way. Then one of the assistants, a twenty-four-year-old student, raised his hand and said, “What about me?” “Sure,” was Henri’s reply. “Come.” He came and Henri blessed him in the same way saying, “John, it is so good that you are here. You are God’s beloved Son. Your presence is a joy for all of us. When things are hard and life is burdensome, always remember that you are loved with an everlasting love.” After Henri spoke, John looked at him with tears in his eyes and said, “Thank you, thank you very much.”8 Jesus overcame the challenge of inferiority, the devil voice’s demand that he prove his worth. With nothing to attest, Jesus could bless others as he had been blessed, he could stand against all other voices and claim that no voice, devil or otherwise, could diminish what God has valued. No voice. Not even death. I had just finished dinner one night when the phone rang. I was asked to go visit a couple in the hospital who didn’t have a minister but would like to see one. They had been pregnant with their first child, 33 weeks along. She went to the doctor, and everything was fine. The next day things didn’t feel right, she returned and to their horror, there was no heartbeat. She was induced. When I got there, they were still holding the body of their little girl. I introduced myself, and found out the name of the baby. We talked for a little, but mostly we sat in quiet and looked at the body of their little girl. The mother asked, “I don’t suppose we could baptize her.” “Sure, we can,” I replied. I held the lifeless body in my arm and baptized her. I baptized her because I firmly trust the declaration of God. The baptism wasn’t centered in a love that recognizes value, but a love that gives value. As I held the body in my arms, we prayed together entrusting the life of their daughter to God – that God would hold her – that God had already taken her in his arms and said, “My child.” I believe God’s label is stronger than the label of her parents, stronger than the doctor who labeled her, “gone” or the coroner and the mortician who labeled her “dead”. God’s label was stronger than them all for God named her, “Mine. My child. My beloved.” I believe there is no naming stronger than God’s naming. Not even death’s. It is an act of faith. I cannot prove it. I can only trust. For me, in that trust is the freedom to move beyond “Who am I?” to let go of all diagnosing of what’s wrong with me or what’s wrong with you, to step away from whatever sense of inferiority I might have, to free myself from valuing myself or others in any way other than beloved.

Baptism: Beloved: Love for others, choose attitude, blessing, say something nice, Charles Wilson, storytellers

A friend of mine and Carrie’s died two weeks ago today. His name was Charles Wilson.

22 Charles was a story teller. If movies were no longer made in Hollywood, they wouldn’t move to the Carolinas because of people like Charles. They never needed a movie to paint a picture in your mind. One of my favorite Charles stories was about his grandfather. His grandfather was a Will Rogers sort of fellow. He never had a mean word to say about anybody. His grandfather lived out that ol’ axiom, “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.” Well, in that community, a man died who no one ever said anything nice about. Everyone in town couldn’t wait to see if Charles’ grandfather was going to say something nice about this man, or if maybe, just maybe, he would cut loose and say something really mean and derogatory. “So,” someone said to his grandfather, “I guess you heard who died.” “Yep,” was his reply. Everyone leaned in to see what he’d say. “I think we’d all have to admit…” ‘Here it comes!’ they thought. “that he sure could whistle.”

Baptism: naming: body of dead baby: stronger than death

The power of the naming of God was clearer to me in one baptism I have officiated more than any other. I got a phone call one night. I had just finished dinner. I was asked to go see a couple in the hospital who didn’t have a minister but would like to see one. They had been pregnant with their first child, 33 weeks along. She went to the doctor, and everything was fine. The next day things didn’t feel right, she returned and to their horror, there was no heartbeat. She was induced. They asked to see a minister. When I got there, they were still holding the body of their little girl. I introduced myself, and found out the name of the baby. We talked for a little, but were mostly quiet. She asked, “I don’t suppose we could baptize her.” “Sure, we can,” I replied. I held that lifeless body in my arm and baptized her. I baptized her because I firmly trust the declaration of God. The baptism wasn’t centered in a love that recognizes value, but a love that gives value. As I held that body in my arms, we prayed together entrusting her life to God – that God would hold her – that God had already taken her in his arms and said, “My child.” God’s label was stronger than the label of her parents, stronger than the doctor who labeled her, “gone” or the coroner and the mortician who labeled her “dead”. God’s label was stronger than them all for God named her, “Mine. My child. My beloved.” There is no naming stronger than God’s naming. Not even death’s. The good news of the gospel for the labeled is this, in Jesus God has spoken, In this world, many will try and label you. Many of those labels will be painful. They will tell you that you are less than human, that you are unloved and unlovable. Do not believe them. For I am the great I am. The name above all names. I have named you. You are my child. My beloved. You are human. You are lovable. You are loved. Nothing can separate you from that love or define you in any other way to diminish what I have declared. You are my child. My beloved. No name any other can give you is stronger than my name for you.

Beloved, forgiven sinners in heaven, no to God, Robert Farrar Capon

23 Robert Farrar Capon In heaven, there are only forgiven sinners. There are no good guys, no upright, successful types who, by dint of their own integrity, have been accepted into the great country club in the sky. There are only failures, only those who have accepted their deaths in their sins and who have been raised up by the king who himself died that they might live. But in hell, too, there are only forgiven sinners. Jesus on the cross does not sort out certain exceptionally recalcitrant parties and cut them off from the pardon of his death. He forgives the badness of even the worst of us, will-nilly: and he never takes back that forgiveness, not even at the bottom of the bottomless pit. The sole difference, therefore, between hell and heaven is that in heaven the forgiveness is accepted and passed along, while in hell it is rejected and blocked… There is only one unpardonable sin, and that is to withholding pardon from others.

Beloved: Baptism: human future depends on individual choice: action The whole course of human history may depend on a change of heart in one solitary and even humble individual – for it is in the solitary mind and soul of the individual that the battle between good and evil is waged and ultimately won or lost. – Scott Peck

Beloved: Blessing, value, giving the a, zander

Benjamin Zander is a professor of music. He wanted to bring out the best in his students, instructing them to approach music in a way they never had been able to before. Yet in over twenty five years of teaching, every year he faced the same obstacle. The students would be in such a choronic state of anxiety over the measurement of their performance that they would hesitate in taking risks with their playing so they didn’t grow, they didn’t learn, inhibited by possible mistakes and failure. Then he took a risk. As the new class began, he told his students, Each student in this class will get an A for the course. however, there is one requirement that you must fulfill to earn this grade: Sometime during the next two weeks, you must write me a letter dated next May, which begins with the words, ‘Dear Mr. Zander, I got my A because…,’ and in this letter you are to tell, in as much detail as you can, the story of what will have happened to you by next May that is in line with this extraordinary grade.” My favorite letter he reported was this one from a Taiwanese student, In Taiwan…I was Number 68 out of 70 student. I come to Boston and Mr. Zander say I am an A. Very confusing. I walk about, three weeks, very confused. I am Number 68, but Mr. Zander says I am an A student…I am number 68, but Mr. Zander says I am an A. One day I disover much happier A than Number 68. So I decide that I am an A. Zander’s students were all afraid, afraid their teacher would find no musical value in them. They all wanted to make music but were chained to their fear of being graded, they were bound to their fear of being labeled as having no value. His giving them the A freed them from that fear, he freed them to reach, explore, and grow in ways his students hadn’t for years. In a similar fashion, in a school district in Memphis there was a class of students who were so wild and disrespectful they had burned up and burned out two different teachers. One took early retirement 24 and one got out of teaching for another profession. Substitute teachers began to refuse to take this class. The district called a teacher how had applied for a job but hadn’t gotten a position in one of the schools to come and teach the class finishing out the year. She accepted. She asked the principal about the class, he avoided telling her anything about the class’s history or reputation. After she had been on the job for a month, the principal sat in on a class to see how things were going. He was surprised to find the students well behaved and enthusiastic. After the students left, the principal spoke with the new teacher. “You’re doing an amazing job,” he told her. “It’s easy,” she replied, “when you give me such gifted students.” “Gifted?” he asked very confused. She smiled, “I discovered your little secret on my first day here. I found out why you wouldn’t tell me anything about this class. I looked in the desk drawer and found the list of the students;’ IQ cores. I knew I had a challenging group of kids here, so bright and rambunctious that I would really have to work to make class interesting for them because they are so intelligent.” She slid open the drawer and the principal saw the list of the students names with the numbers 136, 145, 127, 128 beside them. He exclaimed, “Those aren’t their IQ scores, those are their locker numbers!” It was too late. She had already defined them bright and gifted and under that label, they lived differently.6

Beloved: each personal is particular: life is subjective because we are subjects

What’s it like for you? Objective – how do you build a house. There are rules, measurements… Subjective – how do you build a home? Objective – how do you stay alive. Measure. Blood pressure. Subjective – how do you live? All this talk about groups and politics. What should people believe? What is the answer for health care? Simple knowledge loses self in groups. Health care – simple minded people, what should government do? Forget what government should do. What should you do? Poverty – what should government do? What should you do? Wisdom calls. “Will you be simple forever? We you always stay in your little home with your secure four walls or will you come out to me in the street? Learn! Live!” The question I think is not what do you believe? But how do you live. How will I live the Christian faith? It’s how I live.

To be nobody-but-yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else – means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting. ee cummings

6 Bill O’Hanlon, Do One Thing Different, pp. 97-98. 25 Beloved: not perfect

Sophia went to a fancy event. When she walked in the door, one of the guests said, “Sophia, you’re dress is on backwards. Your hair looks like it has never seen a comb. Plus, your shoes don’t match.” “I know,” replied Sophia, “I didn’t want to try and fool anyone. I came dressed as I am because I am a backwards, disheveled person, and I seldom match.”

Beloved: Particular, be hero in your story, not accept someone else’s drama imposed roles

Richard Rohr in The Quest for the Grail, he said that one can be a hero in only one place. One can be a hero only of one’s own story. One can’t be the hero of St. Francis’s story. This heroism, in other words, is not achieved by dreaming.

Beloved: Particular, Heroes, heroification and villification beyond journey into super human, saints and sinners, good and evil, duality, antonyms, hyponyms, human being is enough superiority not required

James Loewen wrote a fascinating book, the title is itself fascinating, Lies My Teacher Told Me: Everything Your High School History Textbook Got Wrong.

In his book, Loewen creates a new word, Heroification. I know it’s a new word because my word processor lit it up in red. Heroification is a degenerative process (much like calcification) that makes people over into heroes. Through this process, our educational media turn flesh-and-blood individuals into pious, perfect creatures without conflicts, pain, credibility, or human interest. Essentially what we do with history is “hero-making”. In hero making, we cut out any images of evil. We remember that Daniel Webster was a splendid constitutional lawyer, but not that he was often drunk. We remember George Washington as the father of our country but forget that he was a slave owner. We remember that Thomas Jefferson was key in forming the constitution, but forget that he not only owned slaves but fathered children with one of his slaves. The list goes on and on. Loewen’s chief example is the historical memory of Helen Keller. Teachers have held up Helen Keller, the blind and deaf girl who overcame her physical handicaps, as an inspiration to generations of schoolchildren. Every fifth-grader knows the scene in which Anne Sullivan spells water into young Helen's hand at the pump. At least a dozen movies and filmstrips have been made on Keller's life. Each yields its version of the same clichE. A McGraw-Hill educational film concludes: "The gift of Helen Keller and Anne Sullivan to the world is to constantly remind us of the wonder of the world around us and how much we owe those who taught us what it means, for there is no person that is unworthy or incapable of being helped, and the greatest service any person can make us is to help another reach true potential." The truth is that Helen Keller was a radical socialist. She joined the Socialist party of Massachusetts in 1909.7 Keller's commitment to socialism stemmed from her experience as a disabled person and from her sympathy for others with handicaps. She began by working to simplify the alphabet for the blind, but soon came to realize that to deal solely with blindness was to treat symptom, not cause. Through research she learned that blindness was not distributed randomly throughout the population but was

7 Reordered by me. 26 concentrated in the lower class. Men who were poor might be blinded in industrial accidents or by inadequate medical care; poor women who became prostitutes faced the additional danger of syphilitic blindness. Thus Keller learned how the social class system controls people's opportunities in life, sometimes determining even whether they can see. Keller's research was not just book-learning: "I have visited sweatshops, factories, crowded slums. If I could not see it, I could smell it." After the Russian Revolution, she sang the praises of the new communist nation: "In the East a new star is risen! With pain and anguish the old order has given birth to the new, and behold in the East a man-child is born! Onward, comrades, all together! Onward to the campfires of Russia! Onward to the coming dawn!" Keller hung a red flag over the desk in her study. Gradually she moved to the left of the Socialist party and became a Wobbly, a member of the Industrial Workers of the World (IWW), the syndicalist union persecuted by Woodrow Wilson. We remember the blind child who came out of utter darkness and learned to communicate, however, we forget what she wanted to communicate. She had a naïve view of socialism but a clear view of the plight of American lower class workers. In heroification we remember the ‘good’ about a person and forget the ‘bad’ because it affirms how we look at the world. What I think is so fascinating in his examination of history, is not the history itself, but the sociology. In examining how we selectively remember history, it says as much about us or more than our history. We do we make heroes of some and villains of others? What does this say about how we think? We are generally dualistic in our thinking about nations, people, others, and ourselves. We see people through black or white glasses. We think about people in either/or terms. Either you in history are a hero or a villain. So, when we remember Helen Keller, we remember the girl who came from darkness with help of her teacher and forget the socialist. We select to see her as a hero. The opposite of heroification is villainization. This is seeing only the ‘evil’ or ‘weak’ deeds of a person.

We are not heroes or villains, but heroes and villains. We are not saints or sinners, but saints and sinners –each one of us. In a Sunday School class, a child was asked, “If the good people are yellow, and the bad people are red, what color would you be?” She replied in all confidence, “Streaky.”

Beloved: Particular:

As author Anne Lamott tells would-be writers in her classes: And the truth of your experience can only come through in your own voice. If it is wrapped in someone else’s voice, we readers are suspicious, as if you are dressed up in someone else’s clothes. You cannot write out of someone else’s big dark place; you can only write out of your own. Sometimes wearing someone else’s style is very comforting, warm and pretty and bright, and it may loosen you up, tune you into the joys of language and rhythm and concern. But what you say will be an abstraction because it will not have sprung from direct experience; when you try to capture the truth of your experience in some other person’s voice or on that person’s terms, you are removing yourself one step further from what you have seen and what you know.

Beloved: Unity, two types of people, Jesus no prostitutes, Tony Campolo

27 I think it can be said, that in there are really two types of people in the world…, people who think there are two types of people in the world, and people who don’t. Jesus didn’t see two types of people, just one. Children of God. Jesus would agree with Harper Lee in To Kill a Mockingbird who said, (I think it was Scout), “I think there's just one kind of folks. Folks.” So, do you divide the world in some class of good vs. evil, right vs. wrong, smart vs. ignorant, or do you just see like Scout and Jesus – folks? It is pretty obvious in the gospel how Jesus saw other people. Tony Campolo was teaching a class at the University of Pennsylvania on sociology. The class was on social problems. He began the class asking what different religious leaders would say to a prostitute. Then he asked, “What do you suppose Jesus would have said to a prostitute?” He was all ready to show the compassion Jesus had for prostitute and show how Jesus was greater than all the other religious leaders put together. Again he asked, “What would Jesus have said to a prostitute?” One of the Jewish students in his class said, “Jesus never met a prostitute.” “Yes, he did,” Tony came back. “I can show you in my Bible where…” The young man interrupted, “You didn’t hear me. Jesus never met a prostitute.” Once again Tony protested. He pulled out his Bible and started turning through the pages. “You’re not listening to me. You’re not hearing what I’m saying. Jesus never met a prostitute. Do you think that when he looked at Mary Magdelene he saw a prostitute? Do you think he saw whores when he looked at women like her? Listen to me, Jesus never met a prostitute.”

If you want to know why people in his home town tried to kill Jesus in Luke’s gospel, and why people in Jerusalem ultimately did, this is it. It is how he saw, and spoke about, other people. In today’s passage, Jesus declared that not only had the kingdom come, but it had come for all people, and because of their lack of vision, it would probably come to the Gentiles would see it first! He reminds them of two faithful gentiles, one with Elijah and one with Elisha. Jesus home town crowd didn’t like Jesus’ nondualistic vision, they didn’t like Jesus just seeing just folks, and tried to kill him. Larry King has interviewed thousands of people in over five decades, but when asked to pick out one interview over the thousands he picks Martin Luther King, jr. I can’t imagine all the names Martin Luther King heard. But I have a good sense of how he saw himself. Larry King relates, I was with Martin Luther King, Jr. in 1961 when he was trying to integrate a hotel in Tallahassee, Florida. The hotel won’t give him a room even though he has a reservation, and the police squad cars are coming because he’s blocking the entrance. He knows he’s going to be arrested. I’m there right next to him because I was invited there by his lawyer. So King sits down on this porch in front of this small twenty room hotel. The owner of the hotel comes out, very straightforward but not belligerently, walks up to King and asks, “What do you want?” King says nothing, so the owner asks again in the same direct tone, “What do you want?” And Marin Luther King just looked up at him and said, “My dignity.” And that word has stuck with me to this day.

Blessings: loss of home teaches bird she has wings. “Problems and challenges can bring growth and enlightenment,” said Sophia and then she explained, “Each day a bird would shelter in the withered branches of a tree that stood in the middle of a vast deserted plain. One day a whirlwind uprooted the tree, forcing the poor bird to fly a hundred miles in search of shelter until it finally came to a forest of fruit-laden trees. If the withered tree had survived, nothing would have induced the bird to give up its security and fly.”

28 Brokenness, God takes pieces and makes mosaic In designing the royal palace in Tehran, Iran, the architect specified huge sheets of mirrors on the walls. When the first shipment arrived from Paris, they found to their horror that the mirrors were shattered. The contractor threw them in the trash and brought the sad news to the architect. Amazingly the architect ordered all of the broken pieces collected, then smashed them into tiny pieces and glued them to the walls to become a mosaic of silvery, shimmering, mirrored bits of glass. Broken to become beautiful.

Childlike: Bart Campolo in Haiti: generosity.

One time I was in Haiti with my son, Bart, who was then just seventeen years old. We were walking down one of the main streets of Port- au-Prince when we found ourselves surrounded by impoverished, raggedy children. They were begging for pennies, and I said, “Bart, don’t give them anything! If you do, they won’t let up until they’ve got every dime we have.” My son looked at me quizzically and answered, “So?” (Tony Campolo)

Childlikeness, heart of a child, be like my boys

Dick Renard wrote, “God, Help Me Be Like My Boys” When I look at my boys, I see the life of simple concentration. They play hard, they work hard, they learn with intensity They fight going to bed because they haven’t had enough of today. They look forward to tomorrow only at bedtime prayers. God, help me be like my boys. They love unconditionally. They don’t worry about food or clothes or where they will sleep. They know they will be taken care of. They move into the world as friendly agents, without pretense or false motive. God, help me be like my boys. They know who you are and have no doubt they will be with you forever. They see your awesome creative powers. They don’t compromise their faith with their friends. They communicate their feelings without the mask of an adult. God help me be like my boys. But, O God, look at me. See my insides. I’m just the opposite of my boys. I hold onto anger instead of putting it behind me. I don’t genuinely laugh anymore. I want to go to be because I’m tired. God, help me be like my boys. My relationships are conditional. I like those who like me. There is usually a motive to all I do. I’m cautious moving into the world. I worry about my family, my job, money, and things. I often wonder if you will take care of me. God, help me be like my boys. I’m afraid my faith is not socially acceptable. Some friends feel I’ve committed intellectual suicide. I’ve become a chameleon to hide my embarrassment of you. I wonder why you came to me because I am so selfish. God, help me be like my boys. God, I look at my two boys and I see a refreshing view of you.

29 I see life and gaiety. I see acceptance and conviction. I see strength and commitment. I see a pair who know what it means to die for you. God, help me be like my boys. Please, God, don’t allow their hearts to ever change. Let me be like my boys because I want to be like you.

Childlikeness, Ken Davis chasing naked child, chase me!, invitation to join party

Ken Davis tells of being a parent. Imagine… Ken is at home. His daughter is in bed. Wife and other child is out. Just he and his daughter. She is asleep. He is reclining in his normal evening attire reading the paper: boxer shorts, t-shirt, black dress socks. A view to behold. From upstairs he hears, “Daaaaaaaaaaaad!” Not wanting to get up from his chair, he yells back. “What?” “I can’t go to sleep!” “Try harder,” he replies. “Read me a story.” “I already read you a story, go to sleep.” Quiet. “Dad?” “What?” “There’s a monster in the closet.” “No there’s not,” he replied. “How do you know?” “The monster went out with your mother. Go to sleep.” Quiet. (Those of you without children or those who haven’t had a small child for a while and have forgotten, might think it strange that a parent and child can yell from downstairs to upstairs for a long conversation. But a parent that doesn’t want to get up from the Lazy Boy and a child who doesn’t want to go to sleep can talk across a cathedral if necessary.) “Dad?” “What?” “I’m thirsty.” “No you’re not.” “Yes, I am.” “No, you’re not. Go to sleep.” Quiet. “Dad? “What?” “Can I have a drink of water?” “No, you’ll wet the bed.” “I don’t wet the bad!” “Yes, you do.” “No, I don’t.” “What happened last night?” he asked. “That wasn’t me.” “Who was it?” “The cat did that…” Quiet. 30 “Dad?” “What?” “I want a drink of water.” (This is where my friends without children don’t get it. They think, ‘You’re the parent. Let them know whose boss… Children don’t over power you, they wear you out. It’s like the Chinese water torture.) Ken gets a plastic cup from the kitchen and then goes upstairs. He takes Dana into the batroom. He gives her the cup. She fills it up while he goes to get something from the bed room. He comes back, she’s still drinking water. Her little belly is bloated. “Stop that!” He sends her back to her room. She sloshes as she walks. He goes back downstairs to the lazy boy. Finally relaxed. He hears no sound. He is back into the paper. Then he hears again, “Dad?” But this time her voice isn’t from upstairs, it is right in front of him. He lowers the paper to see his three year old daughter, right there in front of him, sans pajamas. She stands their totally nude wearing only a smile. She looks at him with a large grin. Waves her hands over her head and says, “Catch me! Catch me! A child’s heart can turn frustration to play with a simple invitation. “Catch me! Catch me!” There is something irresistible about a naked child saying, “Catch me! Catch me!” Ken hops up out of the chair, bashes his shin on the coffee table and runs after her. She bolts around the dinner table and into the kitchen. Ken knocks a picture off the wall in pursuit. It is in the kitchen, that this grown man in his t-shirt, boxers, and dress socks has a lesson in physics. A barefooted child on a kitchen floor can turn in an instant, a grown man running full speed in his socks cannot. She turns… he turns… splat! His feet slip out from under him and bam! Face first on the floor. From his place on the floor, he hears the front door open. She’s gone outside! He catches her in the front yard. He lifts cradles her in his arms like a baby. The two of them laughing hysterically, so much so that they fall to the ground. That’s when Ken, in his t-shirt, boxers, dress socks and daughter nude, notices his neighbors walking their dog, staring…

Choice: Freedom, giving up for safety, Horse and Stag fable

There once was a horse that had a whole meadow to himself, but a stag came along and entered his pasture. The stag looked at the horse, smiled, waved his horns in a friendly gesture and then began to have lunch. The horse was enraged, “Who was this stag with his large horns to come into his pasture?” The horse began plotting what to do. He could attack the stag, but those large horns made him a little nervous. Anxious to regain the pasture for himself alone, he entreated the farmer. “Would you help me drive the stag from the field?” The farmer thought for a minute and then said with a smile, “Surely, but first you must let me put a bit in your mouth and get on your back. Then I’ll find the weapons to kill the stag.” The horse agreed. The man mounted him. The man cared nothing about the stag, only about riding the horse. From that time on, instead of regaining the field, the horse lost his freedom and horses have been the slave of mankind ever since.8

8Aesop, Aesop’s Fables, “The Horse and the Stag”, p.128. 31 Choice: why David’s failure wasn’t the end: He didn’t Jump the Shark

Jump the Shark is a ‘hip’ phrase of the internet. The phrase originated with Jon Hein who has recently written a book of the same title. Jon was a sophmore at the University of Michigan. He and his male roommates were deciding what to do one night, their decision by default, nothing. They sat around and talked. Their normal discussion topic of sports and women was augmented by watching Nick at Night, classic television. The deep philosophical question was raised, “What was the precise moment you knew when it was all down hill for you’re favorite television shows?” Easy. Andy Griffith? When Barney left. The Beverly Hillbillies? When they went from black and white to color. Scoobie Doo? When Scoobie’s nephew Scrappy appeared. What about Happy Days? “Easy,” said one of Jon’s friends. “When Fonzie jumped the shark.” They all new what that meant. In a Happy Day’s vacation multi-episode, Fonzie, in his leather jacket, water skied over a shark. From that point forward the show was never the same. Fonzie and become nerdy cool. From that point forward, the phrase was born… “Jump the Shark.” Jumping the Shark is a defining moment when you know something has reached its peak. That instant that you know from now on...it's all downhill. Some call it the climax. From that moment on, whatever it is, will simply never be the same. They found jumping the shark applied to anything. In College, "Did you see her boyfriend? She definitely jumped the shark." “How did you do on the calculus test?” “Definitely jumped the shark.” “Did you get the job?” “No, when they asked me about prior work experience, I jumped the shark.”

In the world of Sports… Portland Trailblazers jumped the shark when they took Sam Bowie over a Tarheel named Jordan… Michael Jordan. Tanya Harding jumped the shark when she took care of Nancy Karigan. Boston Red Sox jumped the shark when they sold Babe Ruth to the New York Yankees. In the world of politics… Bill Clinton jumped the shark when… let’s not go there. Dan Quayle jumped the shark when he spelled potato Presiding over a spelling bee, potato “your close, but you left something off the end.” Dan Quayle didn’t jump the shark when he said any of the following, Republicans understand the importance of bondage between a mother and child. One word sums up the responsibility of the vice president, to be prepared. If we do not succeed, then we run the risk of failure. I believe it is time for the human race to enter the solar system. But when he corrected the spelling bee student with spelling potato, Dan Quayle had jumped the shark.

Choices: Freedoms Franklin Delano Roosevelt

Franklin Delano Roosevelt. In his address to Congress on January 6, 1941, Roosevelt memorably and lastingly sketched out a global vision based on the attainment of four essential freedoms. 32 The first is freedom of speech and expression everywhere in the world. The second is freedom of every person to worship God in his or her own way everywhere in the world. The third is freedom from want, which, translated into world terms, means economic understandings that will secure to every nation a healthy peacetime life for its inhabitants-everywhere in the world. The fourth is freedom from fear, which, translated into world terms, means a worldwide reduction of armaments to such a point and in such a thorough fashion that no nation will be in a position to commit an act of physical aggression against any neighbor-anywhere in the world. Roosevelt also said, "This nation has placed its destiny in the hands and heads and hearts of its millions of free men and women; and its faith in freedom under the guidance of God. Freedom means the supremacy of human rights everywhere. Our support goes to those who struggle to gain those rights and keep them. Our strength is in our unity of purpose." When Roosevelt finished dictating this passage, he invited comments from the staff members present in the Oval Office. Harry Hopkins, one of the president's principal advisers, questioned the phrase "everywhere in the world." "That covers an awful lot of territory, Mr. President," he said. "I don't know how interested Americans are going to be in the people of Java." Roosevelt's reply proved prescient. "I'm afraid they'll have to be some day, Harry. The world is getting so small that even the people in Java are getting to be our neighbors now."

Choices: power to choose is yours

When you woke up this morning, you made choices: (11:00 switch order) You decided to get up. You decided what to wear. You decided to come to church. When you got here, you decided what to drink. Some of you decided coffee. If you chose coffee, then you decided cream or not. Milk. Half and half. Powdery fake cow. Sugar. Sacharin. Equal. All choices. In a similar fashion, you chose what to have for breakfast. Now, you will decide whether or not to listen to the sermon or plan your week. Later, you will decide to go to Sunday School, talk in the hallway or go home. And you will decide what to do with the rest of your day. Thousands of decisions today alone. All conscious choices. In your life there are lots of choices. There are lots of little choices, relatively insignificant ones – what you wear today. Cream or no cream? Listening to this sermon… There are important choices. Career is an important choice. Choosing a job within that career. Changing jobs. Changing careers. Marriage is an important choice. Important choices effect other choices. All the little choices you make are affected by the important, foundational, choices you make. Today’s passage is about choices. Jesus goes into the desert where he is tempted by the devil.Temptation is about choices. If there is no power to choose, then there is no temptation. To find ourselves in this passage, we must own our power to choose. Ella Wheeler Wilcox worte this poem “The Winds of Fate” One ship drives east and another drives west With the selfsame winds that blow. 33 ‘Tis the set of the sails And not the gails Which tells us the way to go. Like the winds of the sea are the ways of fate, As we voyage along through life: ‘Tis the set of a soul That decides its goal, And not the calm or strife.

Church: characteristics

Huston Smith offered that the two distinguishing characteristics of the church from the rest of the world were: The first of these was mutual regard. We call it community. We show it when we share our joys and concerns with each other. One of the earliest observations by an outsider about Christians that we have is, "See how these Christians love one another." Their second distinctive quality was happiness or joy. According to Smith, When Jesus was in danger his disciples were alarmed, but otherwise it was impossible to be sad in Jesus" company. And when he told his disciples that he wanted his joy to be in them "that your joy may be complete," to a remarkable degree that objective was realized. In the days of the early church, Outsiders found this baffling. These scattered Christians were not numerous. They were not wealthy or powerful, and they were in constant danger of being killed. Yet they had laid hold of an inner peace that found expression in a joy that was uncontainable. Perhaps radiance would be a better word. Radiance is hardly the word used to characterize the average religious life, but no other word fits as well the life of these early Christians. If they were set apart by their joy, then what characteristic defined them? Laughter. There must have been much laughter, even in difficult times, in the Christian community.

Contribution: Evernone has something to give: Space, table, Comparison, competition, Jesus dinner party, Zander table, contribution, absurdity, Jesus koan

Freud, in his research, concluded that sex was the dominant impulse for human life – the underlying drive that motivates. Later came Alfred Adler. Adler said that sex wasn’t the dominating impulse for human life, but it is the desire to be special, the desire to be compared next to others and to surpass others, to achieve distinction, to be at the front of the line. It is being special and achieving distinction that is the basic drive of life.9 I think Adler’s right. We want to achieve distinction. We want to feel special, so we look at ourselves and we look at others around us. We compare. Identity is relative. It is not how tall you are, but how tall are you compared to the person standing next to you. It is not how young you look but how young you look compared to the people around you. It is not how much money you make, but how much you have compared to the people where you work. Our identity is based on how we compare. Look around you. Are you sexy? Intelligent? Strong? Rich? How do you rank? Are you special? Have you achieved distinction? Have you set yourself apart? Jesus was at a dinner party. At that dinner party, people were all jockeying for position. They were looking for honor by where they got to sit at the table.

9 See Martin Luther King sermon, “The Drum Major Instinct” 34 Around an eastern table is a hierarchy. There is the head of the table. The next highest place of honor is to the right then the left of the head. Then followed by the right and left all the way down the table. If you wanted to know how you stacked up in the scheme of things, you looked at your place around the table. Jesus was watching. He watched as they compared. He watched as they jockeyed for positions. He watched as they tried to get higher places at the table. He watched as they compared themselves to him. “Where was Jesus, this popular Rabbi going to sit?” “How do I rank compared to him?” They were all comparing. Striving for honor, success, and rank. Striving to be special. Striving to get the best seats at the table. Striving to be worthy. Seeing them caught up in their striving, Jesus responded. 7 When (Jesus) noticed how the guests chose the places of honor, he told them a parable. 8 “When you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet, do not sit down at the place of honor, in case someone more distinguished than you has been invited by your host; 9 and the host who invited both of you may come and say to you, ‘Give this person your place,’ and then in disgrace you would start to take the lowest place. 10 But when you are invited, go and sit down at the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he may say to you, ‘Friend, move up higher’; then you will be honored in the presence of all who sit at the table with you. 11 For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.” To put the table Jesus was observing in context, let me tell you about the Zander table. Benjamin Zander grew up in a very competitive Jewish household. He was the youngest of four with two older brothers and an older sister. At dinner time every evening, they would sit around the table, with the parents in the places of authority at either end and the kids filling the middle. Ben’s dad would address the oldest boy, “What did you do today?” Ben’s brother would describe, at some length all that he had accomplished that day. Ben understood that “What did you do today?” meant “What did you achieve today? How did you bring glory and honor to the family? How were you successful?” Then Ben’s father would ask the second in line, his other brother, “What did you do today?” and he would relate all his accomplishments. Then his sister. Then Ben. Ben felt that compared to his older siblings, he accomplished little. He understood the two sided coin, success on one side and failure on the other, achievement on one side and disappointment on the other. It was a table of comparison. Jesus grew up in a very competitive Jewish community where, like in Ben Zander’s home growing up, even the dinner table was competitive. Out text takes place at a dinner party where people were jockeying for position. Around the Eastern table is a hierarchy. There is the head of the table. The next highest place of honor is to the right then the left of the head. Then followed by the right and left all the way down the table. If you wanted to know how you stacked up in the scheme of things, you looked at your place around the table. Jesus was watching. He watched as they compared. He watched as they jockeyed for positions. He watched as they tried to get higher places at the table. He watched as they compared themselves to him. “Where was Jesus, this popular Rabbi going to sit?” “How do I rank compared to him?” They were all comparing. Striving for honor, success, and rank. Striving to be special. Striving to get the best seats at the table. Striving to be worthy. Seeing them caught up in their striving, Jesus responded. 8 “When you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet, do not sit down at the place of honor, in case someone more distinguished than you has been invited by your host; 9 and the host who invited both of you may come and say to you, ‘Give this person your place,’ and then in disgrace you would 35 start to take the lowest place. 10 But when you are invited, go and sit down at the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he may say to you, ‘Friend, move up higher’; then you will be honored in the presence of all who sit at the table with you. 11 For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.” Jesus says, “Don’t sit in the best seat. Take a humble one so that the host will come to you and exalt you in front of others taking you to a place of honor. If you humble yourself, you will be exalted and if you exalt yourself, you will be humbled. That sound’s clear enough for a sermon. Just tell people, “Don’t take the exalted places. Humble yourself. For if you humble yourself, you will be exalted. Jesus said so.” Try writing a sermon on that – and try coming up with illustrations. Here is where my sermon crashed. It doesn’t work. Let’s apply this in Ben Zander’s case, the boy with the three older siblings in the competitive household. “Ben, when you’re siblings are elevating themselves, jockeying for position around your family table, don’t say anything. Just say something like, ‘Oh, I really didn’t accomplish anything today.’ Take the lower place. Your father, your mother, your brother or sister will then go on to say all the wonderful things you did.” Would that work for Ben? No, the siblings would say, “Okay, let me tell you more about meeeeeeeeeee,” taking his time to elevate themselves. You want to know why Jesus struggles with the family? Families are the home for many of bloody competitive comparing… And then Jesus gives this advice on taking the lower place so people can lift you up. Try it this fall. Give up your ticket on the forty yard line of the foot ball game. Go sit in the upper corner of the highest deck. Let me know if someone comes to you and says, “You shouldn’t sit here. Come, we’ve got a place for you in a box seat.” My experience has been that people who humble themselves often wind up humiliated. Think about school teachers. They do one of the greatest services to our country. Lately they’ve been asked to not only teach children but we ask them to raise them as well. Are they exalted? No look at their paychecks! Think about nurses. A good nurse is as big an aid to healing as a doctor, but their paychecks are only recently starting to show it. Think about stay at home parents, those who have chosen to humble themselves and stay at home - what respect have they gotten? Humble thyself and you’ll be exalted? No it’s more like humble thyself and you’ll be humiliated. Jesus advice, “Humble yourself so someone can come along and raise you up” doesn‘t work because no one will come and raise you up. And Jesus knows it. The key is this phrase, a clue from Luke as Luke begins Jesus’ statement with, “Jesus told them a parable.” This doesn’t fit the form of a parable. It’s more of a moral axiom, “If you do this then…” until you start to wrestle with what Jesus says. A parable is often described as something set along side another. If you set Jesus words along side your experience what you’ll find is that those who humble themselves often end up humiliated…as long as we keep playing by the same rules, keep jockeying for position, keep valuing ourselves by how we compare. Through this parable, Jesus is challenging us to a new way of life, not just of valuing humility and changing the standards, but changing all the rules. Think about Jesus.

36 Was Jesus defined by where he sat at a dinner table? Could you add anything to Jesus by placing him at a ‘place of honor’ at a table? Could you take anything away from him by sitting him at the end of the table? No. By no means. Wherever Jesus sat was the head of the table. He was free from such games and is attempting here to set us free, to take us to another game altogether, a game Benjamin Zander learned. Ben Zander realized his dinner table, the comparison between he and his siblings, the competition between brothers and sister, it was a game. A competitive game. Competition is fun. Without it a lot of games don’t work. But they are games. Zander realized that competing and comparing isn’t much of a way to live. He came up with a new game, the contributing game. Instead of comparing and competing, his goal became contributing. Zander became conductor of the Boston Philharmonic Orchestra, and what he realized is that the role of the conductor is to make other people more powerful. Think about it. As the conductor of an orchestra, you don’t try and take away the power of others, you try and make them more powerful. He took that as his model for life. Be a contributor. As a teacher, he constantly asked his students, “How have you contributed today?” Try that around your family table. Ask, “What did you contribute today?”

Creation, Human arrogance in, Egocentric

I found some help for our discussion in Daniel Quinn’s novel, Ishmael, a fascinating tale of a wise gorilla. The story begins with a want ad. Teacher seeks pupil. Must have an earnest desire to save the world. Apply in person. The teller of the story replied to that want ad. He went to the address, and to his surprise, the teacher that was seeking a pupil was a large gorilla. The gorilla was sitting on the floor behind a glass window, a cage. Speechless, he sat down in front of the cage. He looked at the gorilla. He looked into his eyes. Though the gorilla didn’t speak, he could hear him. Amazed he asked, “How is this possible? That I can hear you – a gorilla?” The gorilla replied with a question, “What does it matter?” Still, in disbelief, he started, “But you are…” “I am the teacher,” the gorilla replied. Unsure of what to make by a gorilla behind a glass cage speaking to him, he asked. “Teacher? What kind of teacher are you? What can you teach about?” “Ah,” said the gorilla, “consider my situation. Consider what you know about me already. What do you think I’m most qualified to teach about?” The man looked at the gorilla, he looked at the cage. The gorilla replied, “That’s right…captivity. I can teach you about captivity.” He thought back to the want ad, Teacher seeks pupil. Must have an earnest desire to save the world. “So, what does captivity have to do with saving the world.” “Everything,” then the gorilla asked. “Among your people, which want to destroy the world?” “Destroy the world? None.” “Right, none. Yet your species continues to act in ways that if left to your own devices, you may destroy the planet. You don’t want to destroy the world as we know it, yet you are on a path which seems to be headed to doing that very thing. Captivity has everything to do with saving the world.” “So, what are we captive of?” “What you are captive of,” explained the gorilla, “is your own belief about your place in the world.” 37 Then Ishmael gave a developmental history of the world. Starting with small organisms he described how life grew…of all the evolving, developing, growth from one species to another, with a climax… a jellyfish. “Whoa, wait a minute,” the man added. “The climax of development is not the jellyfish. It is man! It is humanity! We are the pinnacle of creation.” “Ah,” said the gorilla. “That is what keeps you captive, it is your belief that you are the center piece of all creation, the belief that you are the best the world has to offer, the belief that the world exists purely for your enjoyment, your pleasure. It is humanity’s egocentric view of the world that keeps you captive and may destroy us all.”

Creation: River Runs Through It Then he told me, “In the part I was reading it says the Word was in the beginning, and that’s right. I used to think water was first, but if you listen carefully you will hear that the words are underneath the water.” “That’s because you are a preacher first and then a fisherman,” I told him. “If you ask Paul, he will tell you that the words are formed out of water.” “No,” my father said, “you are not listening carefully. The water runs over the words.”

Norman Maclean A River Runs Through It

Death, Great Adventure, Peter Pan

Later, after a fight with Captain Hook and the Pirates, Peter and Wendy are stuck on Marooner’s Rock. Marooner’s Rock is where pirates would leave people to die. They would be on the rock when the tide came in and they’d be too weak to swim in or fly away and they’d drown. That’s where Peter and Wendy were. That was their situation. They are both too wounded to fly away. The tide is coming in. The water is rising and the rock they are standing on is getting smaller. A kite blows by, they grab the tail. It was a large enough kite for only one of them. Barrie writes, She clung to him; she refused to go without him; but with a "Good-bye, Wendy," he pushed her from the rock; and in a few minutes she was borne out of his sight. Peter was alone on the lagoon. The rock was very small now; soon it would be submerged. Pale rays of light tiptoed across the waters; and by and by there was to be heard a sound at once the most musical and the most melancholy in the world: the mermaids calling to the moon.

Peter was not quite like other boys; but he was afraid at last. A tremour ran through him, like a shudder passing over the sea; but on the sea one shudder follows another till there are hundreds of them, and Peter felt just the one. Next moment he was standing erect on the rock again, with that smile on his face and a drum beating within him. It was saying, "To die will be an awfully big adventure." What do you think happens next? You’ll have to read the book.

Death, hell, comfort, pastoral care, Lewis Grizzard, Present in Valley of the Shadow

Lewis Grizzard died of heart failure not long ago after many years of wrestling with heart disease. In his last book he wrote about his struggling with life and the life to come.

38 My minister and I were alone in the hospital room. I was stretched out on the bed. He pulled his chair alongside me. A good preacher has a way about him, a way that calms. First, we had a long discussion about hell. Hell has always confused me. Who goes to hell? Hitler, of course. Bonnie and Clyde must be there. There was a man in my hometown who shot dogs for sport. My cousin had a fluffy little dog named Snowball and the man shot my cousin’s dog dead. “I hope he burns in hell for shooting my dog,” said my cousin. “On the same spit with Hitler and Bonnie and Clyde,” I added. As a kid, I always wondered exactly where hell was. Heaven is up; hell is down. But down where? I used to wonder if you could dig your way to hell. I asked my minister about it. “You probably can,” he agreed. “But there are quicker ways to get there.” That brought up the current state of my status with the Lord. “I haven’t exactly been faithful,” I said. “None of us have,” said my minister. “I don’t think you understand,” I went on. “At last count, I had violated eight of the original Ten Commandments and had strongly considered the other two.” My preacher talked about forgiveness. He talked about it for a long time...I listened closely. When he finished, I said, “Then you think if I don’t make it through the operation tomorrow, there’s still time for me to be forgiven for all the things I’ve done wrong?” He looked at his watch. “There’s still time,” he said, “but I’d get on it right away.” We prayed together before he left. He asked God to watch over me during the operation. I wanted him to ask God to have a sense of humor when he looked over my past life, but he didn’t ask that. I got out of my bed as the preacher began to leave. Family and friends were outside waiting. First, I shook his hand. Then, I reached my arms around him, and he reached his arms around me. Compared to the comfort and assurance of resting in the loving arms of...God for a few moments, Valium is child’s play. 10

Death, trusting the catcher, Henri Nouwen Trapeze

Henri Nouwen in Our Greatest Gift shares this story, Henri loved the circus. Most of all, Henri loved the trapeze. One day he got the opportunity to meet one of the great families in trapeze history, The Flying Rodleighs. They preformed with the German circus Simoneit-Barum. When the circus came to Freiburg, Henri went to see the show. He said, “I will never forget how enraptured I became when I first saw the Rodleighs move through the air, flying and catching as elegant dancers.” He enjoyed the show so much that the next day, he returned to the circus to see them again and introduced myself to them as one of their great fans. They invited Henri to attend their practice sessions, gave him free tickets, asked him to dinner, and suggested that he travel with them for a week. He did. One day, as Henri was sitting with Rodleigh, the leader of the troupe, in his caravan, talking about flying. He said, “As a flyer, I must have complete trust in my catcher. The public might think that I am the great star of the trapeze, but the real star is Joe, my catcher. He has to be there for me with split second precision and grab me out of the air as I come to him in the long jump.” “How does it work?” Henri asked.

10 They Tore Out My Heart and Stomped That Sucker Flat, Lewis Grizzard.

39 “The secret,” Rodleigh said, “is that the flyer does nothing and the catcher does everything. When I fly to Joe, I have simply to stretch out my arms and hands and wait for him to catch me and pull me safely over the apron behind the catch bar.” “You do nothing!” Henri said surprised. “Nothing,” Rodleigh repeated. “The worst thing the flyer can do is to try to catch the catcher. I am not supposed to catch Joe. It’s Joe’s task to catch me. If I grabbed Joe’s wrists, I might break them, or he might break mine, and that would be the end for both of us. A flyer must fly, and a catcher must catch, and the flyer must trust, with outstretched arms, that his catcher will be there for him.” When Rodleigh said this with so much conviction, the words of Jesus on the cross flashed through Henri’s mind: “Father into your hands I commend my Spirit.”

Death: Acceptance: Let Evening Come

Let Evening Come Jane Kenyon

Let the light of late afternoon shine through chinks in the barn, moving up the bales as the sun moves down.

Let the cricket take up chafing as a woman takes up her needles and her yarn. Let evening come.

Let dew collect on the hoe abandoned in long grass. Let the stars appear and the moon disclose her silver horn.

Let the fox go back to its sandy den. Let the wind die down. Let the shed go black inside. Let evening come.

To the bottle in the ditch, to the scoop in the oats, to air in the lung let evening come.

Let it come, as it will, and don't be afraid. God does not leave us comfortless, so let evening come.

Death: door out of the cage we’re in and into the next moment. Once upon a time there was a man touring Africa. In a remote part he saw a beautiful set of birds in the trees. He threw a net over one and took it home. He kept it in a large cage. Over time, the bird learned to speak. The man was returning to Africa, before he left, he said to the bird, “I am returning to your native land. I will see some of your friends there. Is there anything you would like to tell them?” “Yes,” said the bird. “Tell them that although I am caged and can no longer fly free, I am very happy here. Tell them not to worry about me.”

40 “I will,” said the man. He returned to Africa and found the trees where he had caught the exotic bird. There he told the other birds, “I have your friend in my home. He said to tell you, ‘Although I am caged and can no longer fly freely, I am very happy, here. Tell them not to worry about me.’” When the man finished speaking, one of the birds in the tree fell down from the tree, dead. The man was startled. He returned to his home. He told his bird, “I saw your friends, a very strange thing happened. When I told them that you were happy here in my home, one of them fell out of a tree, dead.” With that his bird fell over, dead. Saddened at the loss of his exotic bird, and very puzzled, he took the body out of the cage and threw it on a trash heap in the back of his house. As soon as the body hit the trash heap, the bird came to life and flew up into a tree out of reach of the man. “How can this be?” the man asked. “My friend in Africa sent me a message. By falling to the ground dead, he told me that the only way I could be free was to die.”

death: journey: everyone’s just passing through

Sophia came to the front door of the king's palace. She entered and made her way to where the king himself was sitting on his throne. “What do you want?” asked the king, immediately recognizing Sophia. “I would like a place to sleep in this inn,” replied Sophia. “But this is not an inn,” said the king, “it is my palace.” “May I ask who owned this palace before you?” “My father. He is dead.” “And who owned it before him?” “My grandfather. He too is dead.” “In this place people live for a short time and then move on. Did I hear you say that it is not an inn?”

Death: Letting Go: Reluctance Robert Frost

Out through the fields and the woods And over the walls I have wended; I have climbed the hills of view And looked at the world, and descended; I have come by the highway home, And lo, it is ended. The leaves are all dead on the ground, Save those that the oak is keeping To ravel them one by one And let them go scraping and creeping Out over the crusted snow, When others are sleeping. And the dead leaves lie huddled and still, No longer blown hither and thither; The last lone aster is gone; The flowers of the witch hazel wither;

41 The heart is still aching to seek, But the feet question "Whither?" Ah, when to the heart of man Was it ever less than a treason To go with the drift of things, To yield with a grace to reason, And bow and accept the end Of a love or a season?

Death: live well die well

If I had my life to live over again, I’d try to make more mistakes next time. I would relax, I would limber up, I would be sillier than I have been this trip. I know of very few things I would take seriously. I would take more trips. I would be crazier. I would climb more mountains, swim more rivers, and watch more sunsets. I would do more walking and looking. I would eat more ice cream and less beans. I would have more actual troubles, and fewer imaginary ones… If I had to do it over again, I would go places, do things, and travel lighter than I have. If I had my life to live over I would start barefooted earlier in the spring and stay that way later in the fall. I would play hooky more. I wouldn’t make such good grades, except by accident. I would ride on more merry-go-rounds. I’d pick more daisies.11

Death: live well to die well. My means are my ends… The village was terrified of a coming army of Samurai. Everyone hid in their homes except Sophia who went out to meet the army on the bridge to the village. The army arrived on their horses and found Sophia standing on the bridge. The head Samurai dismounted and walked to the bridge, “Lady,” he said drawing his sword, “don’t you know I am someone who can kill you in an instant?” “Sir,” she replied, “don’t you know I am someone who can die in an instant?” The Samurai mounted his horse and the army left.

Death: mystery

“Sophia, what happens after death?” a student asked. “How should I know?” she replied. “Because you are a wise teacher,” the student said. “Yes,” she said, “but not a dead wise teacher.”

Death: only plastic flowers don’t die When it became clear that Sophia would die, her students were sad. “Don’t you see that death gives loveliness to life?” Sophia said.

11 Chuck Swindoll, Laugh Again, p. 69. 42 “We’d rather you never died,” the students replied. “Don’t you see that whatever is truly alive dies. Only plastic flowers never die.”

Sophia went to see a member of her village after a fire burned her house to the ground. “This should make dying easier,” the she offered.

Death: terminal: doctor diagnosis: “won’t get over this” (go through to next moment)

as Augustine put it: "It is as when a physician leans over a sick man’s bed and declares, ‘He is dying; he won’t get over this,’ so on the first day of our life, one could look into our cradle and say, ‘He is dying; he won’t get over this."’ Life, even the best of it, is so -- terminal.

M I posed that question to a group of ordinary, everyday laypeople in an ordinary Mississippi church. "Has anyone here had to die in order to be a Christian?" Silence. Then they began to testify. "I thought that I couldn’t live in a world where black people were the same as white people. When segregation ended, I thought I would die. But I didn’t. I was reborn. My next-door neighbor, my best friend, is black. Something old had to die in me for something new to be born." Another said: "I used to be terribly frightened to be alone by myself. When my husband went out of town on business, I either went with him or took the children and stayed with a neighbor. But the night that my eight-year- old child died of leukemia, I stopped being afraid." "Forgive me," I said, "but I don’t get the connection. "You see," she explained, "once you’ve died, there is nothing left to fear, is there? When she died, I did too." When he spoke of what happened to him on the Damascus Road, Paul never knew whether to call it being born or being killed. In a way, it felt like both at the same time. Whatever it was, it had something to do with letting go.

Development: Jung four stages: athlete, warrior (success), statesman (make difference through systems and service), spirit

Jung’s work contributed to these four stages which shine some light on human experience and Peter’s mother in law and what will happen to you if you take Jesus home with you. The first stage is the athlete stage (preoccupation with the body): this is the stage our primary emphasis is on our body—what it looks like, how beautiful it is, how strong it is, and so on. We identify ourselves with our body. We are our body. I want to send out some sympathy for middle schoolers. (Armpit hair.) As you get older, the preoccupation changes. I read of a woman this week who gave up looking in a mirror, at her reflection. You don’t know how often you look in a mirror until you do without one. She saw her reflection everywhere. Her reflection kept catching her eye, a glass table top, a well-polished door handle, a darkened car window, a pair of sunglasses… everywhere. The way I experienced it was when I was riding my bike a lot, before I crashed it into a car, and slid down Warner Park… I would measure every trip. How fast did I go? How far did I go? How did it compare to a month ago… a year ago…? Was I improving. This is the athlete stage. Preoccupation with the body. Again, in this stage, according to Jung, our primary emphasis is on our body—what it looks like, how beautiful it is, how strong it is, and so on. We identify ourselves with our body. We are our body. Body stage can be a lot of fun. But if you take Jesus home with you, Jesus won’t leave you here, he will raise you up to a higher level.

43 After the physical, or athlete, stage comes The Warrior Stage (striving for success). We take our physical bodies out there to do what warriors do. What do warriors do? They are in competition with everyone else. They measure their success and their value on the basis of who they are better than, how much they get, and so on. So, this is the time in your adult life when your primary emphasis is on goal setting, on getting someplace else, and on defeating other people. So, if I’m riding the bike, it’s not how fast I went, it is how fast I went compared to other people. How do I rank? I remember in elementary school, a classmate claimed to have 20-10 vision. “That’s too bad,” I said. “I have 20-20,” I added proudly. “20-10 is better than 20-20.” “No way,” I said. “20-20 is the best you can get.” “I have 20-10. That means I see at 20 feet what a normal person sees at 10.” “Wow,” I said looking closely at his eyes. “Maybe I have 20-10 and don’t know it.” “Do you see that tree over there?” I asked. “Yes, of course.” “Do you see that flea on the top leaf?” I asked “You can’t see that.” “I think I have 20-1,” I said. “I see at twenty feet what a normal person sees at one.” “You can’t see that fly,” he said. “I heard him cough,” I said. “No way,” he argued. “Yes way,” I said, “I have 20-1 hearing.” Like the athlete (body) stage or the warrior (competing) stage can be a lot of fun. We learn a lot from warriors about striving, planning, goal setting. It can also be dangerous. In our nation, in our politics, in business, in our personal lives, we have bought into the calling of the warrior… how do we compete, how do we win, how do we dominate.

Not just politics, but parenting, how do my children compete? How do I compete with my children? One day, no lie, I pulled out my drivers liscense and showed Abbie (then 3) to prove I was an adult.

In our faith. Warrior types always want to measure or gauge their spirituality – how they are doing compared to others. Warriors will go to war over being right. This is why those most on fire for God can be so far from the life of Jesus, they are burning up with fever. Churches can burn up with fever, be lost in competing. Warrior churches. Our church is better than your church. Our understanding of God is better than your understanding of God. Our steeple is bigger than your steeple. Our organ… This is where the disciples spent much of their early years with Jesus – warriors for God – competing against each other. Not until later could Peter and the rest look back at this encounter Peter’s mother in law had with Jesus and see a higher way… She is like us. With fever. Peter’s mother in law has a fever. She is down. All she can think about is what is going on with her body. The athlete stage, preoccupation with the body… can be a fever, a burning, a limiting preoccupation. The warrior stage, a focus on how I compare to others, how can I win more, how can I have more, how can I accomplish more… can be a fever, a burning, a limiting preoccupation. Jesus wouldn’t leave her in her fever. He raised her up to a new place. We see Jung’s next stage in her. 44 The next stage, Jung called it the archetype of the statesman or stateswoman (seeking to serve). I’m going to call this the servant stage. At this stage, you stop preoccupation with the body, you stop your preoccupation with scoring and winning, You stop asking, "What are my quotas?" and stop saying, "What is in it for me?" and, "How much can I get?" You begin to say, "What are your quotas?" and, "How may I serve?" Providing for others becomes much more important in your life than what you can get for yourself. The warrior stage is about knocking others down. Rising above. About going higher. In my neighborhood, the higher up the hill you go the more expensive the home, until you get to the top… (What’s his name?) But the servant stage is not about knocking down and rising up, but about lifting others up. Not how can I rise to the top, but how can I lift others up, like Jesus did with Peter’s mother in law, he lifted her up. Service is an important part of our worship. Preparing breakfast. Putting away tables and chairs. Leading jr. church. Teaching Sunday School. Giving of your finances and yourself. Going out to serve others. This isn’t a “Woman, go and fix us something to eat, we’ve got to plan for the kingdom of God.” No, she goes a step ahead of her son in law who is planning for Jesus taking over Israel, a Jesus he doesn’t think has time for children, he doesn’t get it but she gets it. Service. Lifting others up. This also isn’t some warrior stage of service. “Oooh, there are so many problems. We can fix them if we work hard. Let’s make our five year plan.” We often approach service with the warrior mentality – how can we dominate social problems. In warrior mode, we don’t see people, we only see problems. Jesus was all about seeing people! Check this out. Before Jesus, in that town, the sick and the demon possessed are on the outside of town. They live away from others. Because of Jesus, they are drawn together, in one place. At Peter’s mother in laws house. Before Jesus… outside. After Jesus… together. Pat McMahon, a talk-show host on KTAR radio in Phoenix, Arizona, telling me about his encounter with Mother Teresa in his studio before interviewing her for his program. He pleaded with her to allow him to do something for her. She said no because she was just there to help at the new shelter. “This is radio,” he told her. “I can connect you with lots of people. Get them involved in your mission. Raise lots of money.” (Warriors are always interested in raising money.) “No,” she said, “I’m just here to help with the shelter.” “Please," he begged. "I'd just like to help you in some way." She looked at him and said, "Tomorrow morning get up at 4:00 A.M. and go out onto the streets of Phoenix. Find someone who lives there and believes that he's alone, and convince him that he's not." Warriors want to change the world, but servants connect. Servants bring people in. This is the early church. They moved from the synagogue to people’s homes and brought people in.

In the warrior stage, a warriors home is his/her castle. A home is defined by walls. Who you keep out. But for the servant, their home is God’s house… Look at the passage. At the stage of the statesman or stateswoman, the person who lives to help, to serve, the home isn’t defined by the walls, but by the door. 32 That evening, at sundown, they brought to him all who were sick or possessed with demons. 33 And the whole city was gathered around the door. At the warrior stage, you separate yourself from others, especially those who are weaker. At the servant stage, you are drawn to those with problems and they to you.

45 Living at the statesman or stateswoman stage, we are bound by struggles. When one suffers we all suffer. One rejoices we all rejoice. At the statesman/stateswoman, servant stage it is not about who you keep out of your home, but who you let in! Service is designed to connect. But not just lifting others up, lifting others up and connecting. Jung has an even higher stage than of the statesman or stateswoman, the servant, the higher stage is of Spirit. (open to the spirit) Renowned psychiatrist Milton H. Erickson was giving a lecture in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. At that time he was asked to visit the aunt of a colleague who lived there. Dr. Erickson's colleague explained that his aunt, who was in her sixties, had inherited a fortune but lived alone, never having married. By now, she had lost most of her close relatives and friends. She had medical problems that put her in a wheelchair. The nephew was concerned that his aunt was not only depressed but also considering suicide. Dr. Erickson took a taxi to the aunt's home. She gave him a tour of her estate. It seemed to him that, except for minor remodeling to allow wheelchair - access, nothing had been changed since the house was built in the 1890s. The furniture and household decorations smelled of must, and Erickson noted the heavy curtains were kept closed, making the house a dark, depressing place. However, the aunt became animated when she showed Erickson her greenhouse, where she spent hours and hours working with plants - particularly African violets. The woman confided that she suffered with major depression. Erickson told her that her problem was not depression but the fact that she had chosen to isolate herself from people. He said, "I recommend that you look in the latest church bulletin. You'll find announcements of births, illnesses, graduations, engagements, and marriages there. Make a number of African violet cuttings, repot them in gift pots, and have your handyman drive you to the homes of people who are affected by these happy and sad events. Bring them a plant and your congratulations or condolences and comfort, whichever is appropriate to the situation." Although upset by the psychiatrist's blunt assessment, the woman responded positively. Twenty years later, Dr. Erickson proudly displayed in a scrapbook an article from the Milwaukee Journal. It had a large headline that read: AFRICAN VIOLET QUEEN OF MILWAUKEE DIES MOURNED BY THOUSANDS. The article detailed the life of this caring woman who had become locally prominent for her trademark flowers and her charitable work with people in the community during the ten years preceding her death. She found the good life through service. Through service she went from isolation to connection. At the spirit place miracles happen. Churches are to be about connecting not just to each other, not just to people we don’t know, but to God. Jesus did miracles in the synagogue. Miracles at Peter’s mother in law’s home. Miracles. Not magic. Magic is what warrior types like… if I can just figure out the formula. Miracles. The beyond formula. Beyond measure. Beyond control.

Distractions from Journey: Eden: Snake: Run Away! sometimes is the faithful response: David and Bathsheba: Adam and Eve in Eden:

One day a woman came home from work, plopped down in her recliner to unwind, opened a book, and began to read. Then something caught her eye. She looked up from the pages to see a small snake crawl across the floor and under the couch. Terrified, as any normal, sane, noncreepy person would be, she threw her book to the floor, climbed over the chair, ran down the hall to the bathroom where her husband was taking a shower. She pulled him out of the shower, handed him a towel, and said only, “Snake...couch...kill it! Kill it!” 46 Towel around his waist, the husband, bravely, armed with only an old broom handle, laid himself down, put himself at risk in knight-of-the-round-table fashion on behalf of the woman he loved, and ever so carefully lifted up the skirt of the couch and peeked under. He couldn’t see anything. So, again, risking his own health and well being for the woman he loved, he poked the broom handle under the couch, then slid it across and back trying to pull out the snake. Enter family dog. Once asleep, but after hearing all the commotion, came into the living room to see what was going on. The cold wet nose of the dog touched the back of the brave man’s leg, who immediately concluded that he had been outwitted and outmaneuvered by the snake and bitten with a deadly bite on the back of the leg. Terrified, as any normal, sane, noncreepy person would be, the man became rigid and fainted dead away. Seeing her husband go rigid and then lifeless, the wife concluded that he had just had a heart attack. She called the hospital, which was only two blocks away, and an ambulance arrived promptly. The ambulance drivers came in and placed the man, who was now semi-conscious on a stretcher and proceeded to carry him out of the house. On the stretcher, the man mumbled, “Snake.” “What?” asked the ambulance drivers? “Snake.” “I think he said, ‘Snake,’” one said to the other. At that moment, the snake re-entered, slithering across the floor from the couch to the kitchen. The drivers dropped the stretcher. The man fell off hitting his head, losing consciousness again, and this time, his towel. For the record: the poor husband got a concussion; the ambulance drivers got a reprimand for being so clumsy; the wife got distraught and had to go to counseling; and the snake got away. I don’t like snakes. Snakes make me feel creepy. I know some people like snakes. I don’t care. I want to point out something in the garden of Eden story. It is a snake! What bothers me about the story of Eden is that when adults read it, adults don’t think “SNAKE? What is a snake doing in the garden?” No one walks through a garden, sees a snake and doesn’t react. We are meant to react but our adult ‘oh-I’ve-heard-this-before minds, our oh-I-know-this-story-already minds, keep us dull and in the dark. Unlike us, a child, hearing it for the first time, will perk up. “What? Snake? Did he say snake?” So, when you hear the story of Eden from now on, pay attention, it is a SNAKE! It is not inconsequential that the children of Eden are encountering a snake! Imagine how different the story would feel if the animal would have been a dog, a raccoon, a squirrel, or a slightly over weight duck billed platypus. Same effect? I think not. Imagine the woman coming home from work and sitting in her chair, but instead of a snake, she sees a baby bunny. Same result? I think not. Think about Genesis 3 without the snake. Perhaps something like this, Now the duck billed platypus was the goofiest looking animal and lazier than any other semi-wild animal that the LORD God had made. Not the same story, is it? Snakes in stories and in life provoke a universal response from normal, sane, noncreepy people, and that response is, “AHHH!” Of all the animals in the world, the snake, the shark, and the spider provide the greatest response of anxiety and fear. I love how Bill Cosby describes a person seeing a snake. “They start lifting up one leg.” As if the one leg on the ground wasn’t enough for the serpent to strike. The point is, when Adam and Eve saw the snake, why didn’t they run away? I’ve been doing this sermon series on magic words off an on throughout the year. Two magic words if Adam and Eve had known them would have saved them a lot of trouble. “Run away!” Snake! “Run away!” No problem.

47 Distractions from Journey: Eden: Snake: Shame: refusing to accept: Satchel Paige, Eden, Snakes and other distractions, fears, anxiety, forget purpose and vocation, snake in house story

Before we look at the text, I want to tell you a story about Satchel Paige. Satchel Paige was one of the greatest pitchers of all time. We have few statistics on him because he played in the Negro Leagues. Like most Negro League players, because he couldn’t play in the major “all white” leagues, Satchel played throughout the country in barn storming leagues and throughout the Americas. A couple of my favorite Satchel stories are from when he played in Venezuela. According to Satch, his first game in Venezuela was almost his last. When he arrived, he was too tired to pitch, so they put him in the outfield. He looked around and saw an iron pipe out by the fence. He marked it in his mind incase somebody hit the ball out there, he didn’t want to trip on it. A few minutes later, the guy up at the plate really popped one and it rolled toward the iron pipe. He went hoofing after it and just as he reached for the ball… the pipe moved. It was a boa constrictor. He ran away from the snake so fast the papers on the next day said that Jesse Owens was in Venezuela posing as Satchel Paige. A couple of games later, they were tied going into the ninth inning, Satchel was pitching. They had a man on first. The second batter struck out. The third batter hit a fly ball back to the pitcher and Satch caught it. Just as he did, a small snake moved right by his feet. He jumped back, laid down his glove, and picked up a stick and beat the snake. The only trouble was the guy on first tagged up and went all the way around to score while Satch was beating the snake. They lost the game. I love those two stories because they capture for me the nature of distraction, the snakes got Satch’s full attention, he tuned out the world, his purpose, the game, and focused only on the snake. The serpents were a distraction. That’s not new for us. The wonderful story of Eden has God’s creatures living in harmony with God and each other, then a snake comes in… a huge distraction from their role, purpose and their life in Eden.

distractions: machines, Adam and Eve and Apple Computer.

Lisa Lipkin retells the story of the loss of Eden in a way I think is helpful for understanding today’s scripture. After God made the earth, he knew that life on earth wouldn’t be any fun without a moon. So he made a moon and it glowed in the sky. It needed something to howl at it, so God made a coyote. God tried a variation on that animal and came up with a dog. Then a cat. Larger, a tiger, larger still, a lofty lion, an enormous elephant! But the moon looked lonely in the sky so God created stars to keep it company. The stars twinkled in the sky. They were so beautiful in their subtle magic and majesty that God wanted to make something that could appreciate them. So God created a handsome fellow named Adam. Adam appreciated all the beauty of God’s creation. It was quickly obvious that he needed someone to share it with. He would often walk along and say, “Did you see tha…?” and realize that no one was there. So God made Eve. The two were lovely and belonged to each other and to God. They played games, hide and seek, leap frog, scrabble. It was paradise. But then, one day, something horrible happened. Adam was out hunting and gathering. Eve was soaking her toes in a nearby stream humming a happy tune. All of a sudden she was interrupted by a snake that crawled out from under a bush. “Ssssaay there sssssweetheart, what are you sssinging?” 48 “Just a simple tune.” “Come over hear, let me sssshow you ssssomething.” She got up from the stream and followed the snake around the trunk of a large tree, there it was, shiny, bright, new, an Apple…computer. “Ssssay, ssssweetheart, why don’t you try this here Apple?” The colors on the screen hypnotized her. She started slowly, first with the mouse, then the keyboard. Before long she was word processing. (Then she was emailing, googling, skyping, facebooking, i-m-ing, tweeting…) Adam looked for her for hours. He called but heard nothing. Finally he found her. “Eve? What are you doing? Didn’t you hear me calling you?” “Shhhh, I’m busy I’m trying to figure out the maximum amount of animals I can catch within the smallest given radius.” And she kept typing away. Adam didn’t know what to do. But the snake did. “Ssssay, big fellow, why don’t you come over here and try this (Apple I Phone)?” (Before long he was ingrossed in it like Eve was with her computer. He was doodle jumping, bejeweling, and angry birdsing.) It was new and delicious like a piece of ripe fruit. Quickly, Adam too became obsessed. So it went. From that day on, the two worked all the time. They only saw each other on weekends. In the morning they would get dressed (in pin striped fig leaves), on special occasions and run though the woods to their stations. They would work all day on their computers. The sun would shine brightly on them, but they didn’t stop to feel its rays. The flowers around them smelled beautiful, but they no longer reveled in their aromas. And at night when the stars twinkled, and the moon covered them with moon glow, they were too tired to notice. And in this way, they could never again return to the Garden in which they were born.12

Distractions: Materialism, belief in stuff, Christmas, Santa

The movie, A Christmas Story, for Christmas in the United States, should be entitled “THE Christmas Story” because it is rooted in our “If only” belief. The movie is based on Jean Shepherd’s book, “In God We Trust, All Other’s Pay Cash.” I want to read you a little from that story. The scene is elementary school. Miss Bodkin, after recess, addressing her class: "I want all of you to write a theme. ..." The little boy’s response. A theme! A rotten theme before Christmas! There must be kids somewhere who love writing themes, but to a normal air-breathing human kid, writing themes is a torture that ranks with the dreaded medieval chin-breaker of Inquisitional fame. A theme! Then Miss Bodkin says something more. “I want you to write a theme…entitled 'What I want for Christmas,' Ralphie’s attitude changed. The clouds lifted. I saw a faint gleam of light at the other end of the black cave of gloom which had enveloped me since me visit to Santa. Rarely had the words poured from my penny pencil with such feverish fluidity. Here was a theme on a subject that needed talking about if ever one did! I remember to this day its glorious winged phrases and concise imagery: What I want for Christmas is a Red Ryder BB gun with a compass in the stock and this thing that tells time. I think everybody should have a Red Ryder BB gun. They are very good for Christmas. I don't think a football is a very good Christmas present.

12 Chosen Tales, 203.

49 He sought his Red Ryder BB gun with a compass in the stock and this thing that tells time. Christmas is the ‘if only’ holiday. If only he could get that gun he would be happy and all would be right in the world. Whether it is a tickle me Elmo or an I-pod the belief is the same. “If only I can get…then my life will be complete.” We spend thousands and thousands of dollars searching the perfect ‘if only’ experience. That’s why we tell Christmas stories without the baby in the manger, the angels or the shepherds. All our Christmas stories involve our “if only”s. Yet, even with the great movement to remove Christ from Christmas, for some reason, we keep coming back to Bethlehem… Perhaps if there is any miracle here its that we keep retelling the story. Bethlehem so different than all of our “If only”s. The amazing thing about the story of Jesus’ birth was not that he was born of a virgin. For the first tellers of the gospel story, that Jesus was born of a VIRGIN, was not the outlandish proposition. That JESUS was born of a virgin was what was so outlandish. The reason the story of Jesus being born of a virgin is so outlandish is because Jesus, did not fix the world for himself, his followers, his nation or the world. Jesus did not seek to fix the world. Augustus did for a time for his people, yet we don’t remember Augustus, we don’t celebrate his birth, the story of him being born of God has become irrelevant. We remember Jesus. We tell of his birth. We still keep coming to Bethlehem. Why? Perhaps it is because our “If only”s don’t work. All the conditions we put together and say, “My life would be right if only…” Yet, when we get them, they never seem to work. Even if we get that right gift, it never makes us satisfied. The kid in Christmas story got his Red Ryder BB gun with a compass in the stock and this thing that tells time, but his first shot bounced off the wall and hit him in the face. The approach to many in government is this, If we can just change outer circumstances so that we have adequate housing, adequate health care, a shorter work week, inexpensive rapid transportation, smaller families, and so on, individuals would be happier, healthier, more balanced, and psychologically secure. The fact is that many people do have adequate housing, adequate health care, and the rest, yet they are still unhappy, unhealthy, unstable, and psychologically insecure.13 You may find the perfect spouse or have the perfect children or get the perfect job, buy the perfect house… but they won’t be perfect long… if they are perfect you’ll ruin them within the year. We keep going to Bethlehem because “if only” doesn’t work. “If only” has a 100% failure rate. We keep coming back to Bethlehem and to Jesus because he didn’t fix the world, and told us that we don’t have to fix the world to have peace. He told us that our “If only”s are irrelevant. To a lot of people, that was good news, especially the poor.

Easter, empty egg, grave empty, faith beyond knowledge

One Spring Sunday morning, a Sunday School teacher gave her class a fun activity to do as part of their Easter lesson. She gave each one of them a plastic Easter egg and told them to go outside and find something that symbolized Easter, put it inside their egg and bring it back to the class. Everyone in the class went outside to search for what they could find, everyone except Anthony. Anthony just sat at the table and looked at his egg. He held it in his hands and stared at it. Two of the other children looked at him through the window. "See," one of them said pointing at Anthony, "he's too dumb to even do this assignment right." The rest of the class quickly came back in and took their seats. As soon as they got quiet, the teacher asked who wanted to show what was in their egg. Suzie started, she brought up hers and opened it. It was

13 Fritz, The Path of Least Resistance, p.23 50 a flower. "Very good, Suzie," the teacher said. "Can you tell us why this flower makes you think about Easter?" Suzie held her head back with pride and said, "Because Easter comes in the spring, and flowers bloom in the spring." "Very good," their teacher said. "Who'll be next?" One by one all the students came forward revealing their treasures. They had green grass and leaves, a feather and many other things from the yard. Billy brought a nail in his. He said the nail reminded him of Jesus and how he was crucified after everyone had been mean to him. Their teacher commended him for remembering that Easter was all about Jesus. One after one the students came forward opening their eggs until everyone had gone but Anthony. "Anthony, I believe your the last one," the teacher said. "What did you get, Anthony? Let's see it," Suzie said knowing that Anthony didn't go outside like they did. Anthony walked up to the front of the class with his head hanging low. He did not open it like the others did he just handed it to his teacher. She opened the plastic egg. Nothing. It was empty. "Anthony, there is nothing here. You didn't do your assignment and find a symbol of Easter like the rest of the class," the teacher said. Anthony looked up at his teacher and nodded his head. "E-e-Easter," he said pointing to the egg. "But Anthony, there is nothing in here," replied his teacher. The teacher looked at him with her stern look, then she began to understand. "E-e-Easter," Anthony said again still pointing at the empty egg. "E-egg empty. The t-tomb was empty. That's w-what e-aster is all about." Anthony smiled. "Tomb's empty. Jesus lives." Anthony was right. Easter is about an empty tomb, and the risen lord. Our joy is in the victory of Jesus. The tomb is empty. Jesus lives.

Easter, Tony Campolo, Friday but Sunday’s coming

Tony Campolo, one of my favorite authors, teaches Sociology at Eastern College in Pennsylvania. He is about as white as they come, but he attends Mt. Carmel Baptist Church which is a black church. Tony speaks at a lot of different churches and conferences across the country, but says that when it comes to teaching and preaching – there is no place like home. Tony says he enjoys preaching at Mt. Carmel because the congregation speaks to you. When you preach at Mt Carmel and when you are really ‘on’ they’ll let you know. The deacons up on the front row will start yelling, “Preach, brother! Preach!” Then the women will start waving one hand in the air and yell, “Well, well.” Then the men will offer encouragement yelling, “Keep going! Keep going!” Tony says, “You never get that kind of encouragement in a white church, they never yell, ‘Keep going!’ they only look at their watches and yell, ‘Stop! Stop!’” It was on Good Friday when several preachers were preaching back to back. Tony had given one of his best sermons. The deacons were yelling, “Preach, brother, preach!” The women were waving one hand in the air and yelling, “Well, well.” And the men were shouting, “Keep going.” He knew he was ‘on.’ Tony finished his sermon with the congregation in an up roar. He went and sat down next to his pastor. His pastor said, “You did alright, boy.” Tony hate it when he calls him, ‘boy.’ So Tony said, “Pastor, you going to be able to top that?” His pastor just smiled and said, “Son, you just sit back, because this old man is going to do you in.” Tony didn’t think anyone could do him in, he said, “I was so good I wanted to take notes on me!” But he admits, the old man out preached him. And he did it with one phrase. “It’s Friday, but Sunday’s comin’.” For an hour and a half, one phrase over and over, “It’s Friday, but Sunday’s comin’.” He said, “It was Friday, Mary was crying her eyes out. But that was Friday. Sunday’s comin’. 51 “It was Friday, Mary was weeping over her boy. But that was Friday. Sunday’s comin’.” The deacons started saying, “Preach, brother, preach.” That was all it took. He said, “It was Friday, the disciples who had stood by Jesus were afraid, afraid for their own lives, afraid they’d have their own crosses. But that was Friday. Sunday’s comin’. “It was Friday, those frightened disciples were running in every direction, runnin’ like sheep without a shepherd. But that was Friday. Sunday’s comin’.” The women in the church started waving one hand saying, “Well, well.” And the men shouted, “Keep going, keep going!” The preacher picked up the volume and shouted, “It was Friday and the cynics were lookin’ at the world and sayin’, ‘As things have been so they shall be.’ But that was Friday. Sunday’s comin’. “It was Friday. The cynics were saying, ‘ You can’t change anything in this world; you can’t change anything. But those cynics didn’t know, it was just Friday, Sunday was comin’. “It was Friday! And on Friday, those forces that oppressed the poor and make the poor suffer were in control. But that was Friday, Sunday was coming. “It was Friday, and on Friday, Pilate thought he could wash his hands of a lot of trouble, he thought he could wash his hands and be done with Jesus from Nazareth. But that was just Friday, Sunday was coming! “It was Friday and the Pharisees were struttin’ around laughin’ and pokin’ each other in the ribs. They thought they were back in charge of things. They thought they were done with Jesus from Nazareth, but they didn’t know it was just the beginning. They didn’t know that it was Friday, Sunday was comin!” He kept working on that phrase for a half hour, then an hour, then an hour and a half. Over and over he came at them, “It’s Friday, but Sunday’s comin. It’s Friday, but Sunday’s comin’!” At the end of his message, the congregation was so worked up that they couldn’t stand it any longer and he shouted out, “It’s Friday!” and they all shouted back, “Sunday’s coming!”14 This is the good news. Sunday has come. Sunday has come and Christ has risen! Sure, Gethsemane is difficult, sure Golgotha is painful, sure there are Pilate’s and Herod’s that can make our lives miserable… And it’s true your life can be difficult, life is hard, and you may face more tragedy in this life than you ever imagined, but Sunday has come. I want to tell you that death’s power is limited. Pilate’s days are numbered. The pain of life only has so much power over you because Sunday has come! Christ who was crucified has risen. He has delivered us from the power of Friday so that we can be Sunday people. He has delivered us from the power of Friday so that we can choose love and hope over hate and despair. The good news of the gospel. Thanks be to God.

Enough: Happiness: man with no shirt

Consider the king in this next story adapted from Heather Forrest’s collection Wisdom Tales…

Once there was a prince who was so sad, his eyes seemed full of sadness and tears. The king was concerned about his son. He got cooks to prepare the best dishes, toymakers to make the best toys, and teachers to share their most stimulating ideas, but to no avail. No gift or treasure could free the prince from his sadness. The king called his advisors who offered this solution, “For the prince to be happy, you must dress him in the shirt of a truly happy man. Then he will be cured of all his sorrow.” So the king set out on a journey to find a truly happy man. He went through the village to the church. The priest always seemed to him to be a happy man. “Your, majesty,” the priest said, “to what do I owe this honor?”

14 Tony Campolo, It’s Friday, But Sunday’s Comin’, p.116f. 52 The king said, “You are known as a good and holy man. I would like to know, would you accept the position of bishop should it come to you?” “Certainly,” replied the priest. “Never mind,” the king said and left disappointed. If the priest were truly happy, he wouldn’t want to be bishop. The king went to another kingdom and visited another monarch. “My friend,” asked the king, “are you happy?” “Most of the time, but not always, there are many nights I am restless because I am worry about losing all that I have worked so hard to gain.” The king left for he knew that this man’s shirt would not do. On his way back to his own kingdom, he happened to be riding by a farm. He heard singing. He stopped his carriage and followed the sound of the song. There he found a poor farmer, singing at the top of his lungs. The farmer looked up to see the king approaching and said, “Good day, sir!” “Good day to you,” said the king. “You seem so happy today.” “I am happy every day for I am blessed with a wonderful life.” The king said, “Come with me to the castle. You will be surrounded with luxury and never want for anything again.” “Thank you your majesty, but I would not give up my life for all the castles in the world.” The king could not contain his joy. “My son is saved! All I need do is take this man’s shirt back to the castle with me!” It was then the king looked and realized… the man wasn’t wearing a shirt.15

Expectations, Marriage, Tony Campolo, She made noise

Tony Campolo says you can tell I’m not a counselor. Tony sees himself as a scientist, not a counselor. But in part of his training as a sociologist, he had to take some coursework in counseling and do a practicum. One visit in particular he describes shows why he’s not a counselor. He made two mistakes. First he said you should never grab the person who’s come to you, shake them, and say, “What is wrong with you?” Which he did. “If they start to cry,” Tony says, “you should never giggle.” Which he did. He defends himself by saying this was no ordinary counseling session. The man and his wife came to see Tony and his student partner, Cathy. They sat in front of the one way window with their professor on the other side. “So what do you want to tell me?” Tony asked. “When the marriage went wrong?” “When did the marriage go wrong?” Tony asked. “On the night of the honeymoon,” the husband responded. “That’s early. What happened?” “We got to the motel…” “Yes?” Tony says at this point you try to look professional. “I undressed, and got in the bed.” “Then what happened?” “She got her negligée and went into the bathroom.” “Yes,” Tony and Kathy are writing notes like mad thinking, ‘this is going to be good.’ “She ruined our relationship?” and he starts crying. “She ruined your relationship? How?”

15 Heather Forest, Wisdom Tales, p.117. 53 “She went to the toilet? Do you understand?… She made noise!”16 This man was married to a romantic image – not a real person. What we don’t tell people is that marriage is not one big romantic date. It is a real relationship. When Carrie and I first got married. I would wake up in the morning, sneak out of bed, go brush my teeth, and then come back. She would wake up, and with confidence I would say, “Good morning.” She would then sneak out of bed, go brush her teeth, and come back, “Good morning.” We didn’t want the other to know that our breath smelled in the morning. Now we just wake up and she says, “Good morning.” I say, “Good morning.” She asks, “You going to brush?” “No,” I say, “it’s Saturday.”

Failure leads to success, diver Nelson Diebel.

“I’m the example for people who (goofed) up and never thought they could change,” Diebel said. “There are always possibilities.” There is always hope. Diebel said, “I went to a 4,000 student high school in Chicago. It’s hard to get noticed in a 4,000 student in Chicago. It’s hard to stand out. It’s even harder to get kicked out.” His antics had included: "Senseless destruction. Smashed windshields. Sugar in gas tanks. Drugs. I served no purpose in the world. I was just this body taking up space." His parents didn’t know what to do. At wit’s end, his mother sent him to the Kent School in Connecticut, where he was kicked out. Then to Peddie School in New Jersey. Part of the requirements of entrance into Peddie was participation in an extracurricular activity, so Diebel signed up for swimming. He said, “I had swimming lessons in second grade…” Chris Martin was the new coach at Peddie. He was 6-4, about 250 lbs. Diebel said, “I swam because I was afraid of him.” Martin told Diebel, “I’ll come by your room at 4:30. We swim at 5:00.” “Sounds good,” Diebel said. “Swim at 5:00. Will we make dinner at 6:00?” “Not in the afternoon,” said Martin. “In the morning. I’ll come by and get you at 4:30 in the morning.” “No way,” said Diebel. “I’m not getting up at 4:30 in the morning.” “Look,” said the coach, “you’re parents sent you here because they don’t know what to do with you. They have given up on you. They’ve lost hope. So, what that means is, I can do whatever I want to you, and they won’t care. Your parents won’t care if I end your life.” Diebel wasn’t motivated by a passion to swim, he was just scared of the guy. Chris was intimidating, but he was also hopeful. Everyone else had given up hope. But he had hope. Even when Diebel hurt himself. Diebel swam in the Peddie pool, walked up to a balcony and prepared to dive outward from a narrow railing so he would splash in the water below. His feet were wet and he slipped. His arms caught his fall before his head smacked the concrete deck. "I'm like a cat," Diebel said. "I always land on my feet. Except that time. Everybody was wondering, 'Is he suicidal, or was he just on drugs?' " He was placed in two arm casts for eight weeks, one extending all the way above the bicep. School officials installed a big glass barrier so nobody could ever again repeat Diebel's stunt. Martin didn’t give up. Neither did Diebel. The survivor came back. Six months after the fall, he won the 200-yard breast-stroke event at the short course nationals.

16 Tony Campolo at the Southern Baptist Convention 54 After a more conventional shoulder problem in 1991, he set the American record of 1:01.40 at the trials in spring. The race produced the second-fastest time ever, behind only the world record of 1:01.29, set by Norbert Rosza of Hungary in 1991. Diebel said, "There were two thousand people watching and maybe five at most thought I could make the team.” Only five had hope. Diebel said. "I was one of them. I love that kind of pressure. The more people there are who think I can't do it, the more I love it.” Just four months later, Diebel was a member of the U.S. swim team that went to Barcelona to compete in the 1992 Summer Olympics. No one expected an American medal in Breast Stroke. So when Diebel won, no one saw it. NBC’s simulcast had three stations covering Olympics, because they hadn’t had any hope for the American Breast Strokers, they covered badmitton. Diebel's 1:01:30 was an Olympic record and a gold medal. A few days later, Diebel won his second gold medal, swimming the breaststroke leg of the 4x100 medley relay. He went on to graduate from Princeton University. “I’m the example for people who (goofed) up and never thought they could change,” Diebel said. “There are always possibilities.” There is always hope. Diebel is the poster boy for the story I tell often.

Faith: beyond formula Sophia came back from the desert and her time of prayer. “Tell us what God is like,” her students demanded. She didn’t know how to describe the indescribable, so she offered a principle, a statute, a formula, in hopes that some of them might be encouraged to go into the desert of their lives, and open their hearts to God. But they seized upon the formula, made it a text, spread it to foreign lands, imposed it on others as a holy belief. Sophia wondered if it would have been better if she had said nothing at all.

Faith: God as comforter in difficult and often painful life

Comfort, Comforter, is an interesting image. I chose the King James version because the King James Version uses Comforter for the Holy Spirit as does the American Standard version. Counselor, Helper, Advocate are used in other translations. I want to stick with this image of God as comforter. In the Book of Common Prayer there is a collect that begins, “God of all comfort…” to some who don’t know any better that sounds like something soothing, adequate words in troubled times of turmoil and tribulation, a kind of Band-Aid on cancer. Do you know the proper meaning of the word “comfort”? It means “to fortify; to strengthen; to give courage, even power.” The God of all comfort is the one who supplies what we most lack when we most need it..17 The God of all comfort is the God who fortifies, strengthens, gives courage and power so that we may live each day fully, saying “Yes” to all our experiences in life letting not our hearts be troubled nor letting them be afraid. When we pray, not only “Give us this day…” but “Give us this day, our daily bread…” We affirm that we are not alone. We count on, depend on, trust God’s presence to supply us each day with bread, with what we need to face all of life, to live it fully – facing our difficulty, accepting it, living it as if

17 Gomes. p.10. 55 we chose it, looking for God’s presence always. For it is God who is our source for daily bread, strength to live.

Faith: God, trust, leap of faith, building on fire, voice, leap of faith

Again, not a lot about it, just a story…18 After the long day at work in his cubicle, the young man simply wanted to go home, relax, and prepare for his next day at work. As he made his way toward the elevator, he heard screaming and saw black smoke and flames billowing out of the hallway. Panic gripped him as a succession of thoughts flew through his mind, I’m on the sixth floor. Ill never make it down. I’m going to die! What he considered to be his only escape the hallway was engulfed in flames and impossible to navigate. As his mind continued to race, he heard fire engines and remembered that the office was lined with tall windows all across his floor. He coughed and staggered to the windows in hope of a swift rescue. Instead, when he looked down he could see nothings but a curtain of smoke covering the area. Through the smoke and flames, he realized that a crowd had gathered and along with the firemen everyone was yelling, Jump! Jump! The young man felt a cloud of fear envelop him. Over a loud speaker he heard the voice of what he assumed to be a fireman, The only way youll survive is if you jump. Weve spread out a safety net. Youll be perfectly safe. As the crowd continued to yell, the young man realized he didnt have the courage to make the leap without being able to see the net. His feet were cemented to the floor. Then, over the loud speaker came the voice of his dad, Its okay, son, you can jump. As the familiar voice reached the young man, he felt the grip of fear lift. The trust and love that had been established between dad and son gave him the courage to jump safely down into the net. The calling voice of God. God doesn’t cricticize, in Gottman’s term, God we know in Christ calls.

Faith:Do you trust God? Time, Sacred

Sacred times: One of the most distinguished words in the Bible is the word kadosh, holy; a word which more than any other is representative of the mystery and majesty of the divine. Now what was the first holy object in the history of the world? Was it a mountain? Was it an altar? It is, indeed, a unique occasion at which the distinguished word kadosh is used for the first time: in the Book of Genesis at the end of the story of creation. How extremely significant is the fact that it is applied to time: "And God blessed the seventh day and made it holy." There is no reference in the record of creation to any object in space that would be endowed with the quality of holiness. This is a radical departure from accustomed religious thinking. The mythical mind would expect that, after heaven and earth have been established, God would create a holy place--a holy mountain or a holy spring--whereupon a sanctuary is to be established. Yet it seems as if to the Bible it is holiness in time, the Sabbath, which comes first. The great 20th-century Jewish theologian Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, in his influential work The Sabbath, poetically articulates the notion of Shabbat as "a cathedral in time"--a "place" in time Three reasons to seek Sacred Time: 1. Get the rhythm of God. The first reason the Torah gives begins in the book of Genesis: "On the seventh day, God finished that work that He had been doing.... And God blessed the seventh day and declared it holy, because on it God ceased from all the work of creation that He had done." Later,, God declares that the Israelites

18 Alice Gray, Stories for the Heart, p.193. First printed in Reader’s Digest December 1964 edition. 56 should "remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy…for in six days the Lord made heaven and earth and sea, and all that is in them, and He rested on the seventh day; therefore the Lord blessed the Sabbath day and hallowed it." (Exodus 20:8, 11). 2. Claim Identity The second reason the Torah gives for observing Shabbat appears in the version of the Ten Commandments presented in the Book of Deuteronomy. God says, "Remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt and the Lord your God freed you from there with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm; therefore the Lord your God has commanded you to observe Shabbat" (Deuteronomy 5:15). This explanation touches on two momentous motivations for observing Shabbat. The first is the covenant between God and the Jewish people: God redeemed the Israelites from slavery, and the Israelites must observe God's commandments. The second motivation suggested by these phrases is one of deep empathy with our enslaved ancestors. Because our forebears who were slaves were unable to enjoy a day of rest, we should observe Shabbat as a demonstration of our own redeemed status--and perhaps, with a consciousness about those who are still enslaved.

Family Values

Why the Frog and the Snake Never Play Together an African Folk Tale. Once upon a time, the child of the Frog was hopping along in the bush when he spied someone new lying across the path before him. This someone was long and slender, and his skin seemed to shine with all the colors of the rainbow. "Hello there," called the Frog-child. "What are you doing lying here in the path?" "Just warming myself in the sun," answered the someone new, twisting and turning and uncoiling himself. "My name is Snake-child. What is yours?" "I am Frog-child. Would you like to play with me?" So Frog-child and Snake-child played all morning long in the bush. "Watch what I can do," said Frog-child, and he hopped high into the air. "I'll teach you how, if you want," he offered. So he taught Snake-child how to hop, and together they hopped up and down the path through the bush. "Now watch what I can do," said Snake-child, and he crawled on his belly straight up the trunk of a tall tree. "I'll teach you if you want." So he taught Frog-child how to slide on his belly and climb into trees. After a while they both grew hungry and decided to go home for lunch, but they promised each other to meet again the next day. "Thanks for teaching me how to hop," called the Snake-child. "Thanks for teaching me how to crawl up trees," called the Frog-child. Then they each went home. "Look what I can do, Mother!" cried Frog-child, crawling on his belly. "Where did you learn how to do that?" his mother asked. "Snake-child taught me," he answered. "We played together in the bush this morning. He is my new friend." "Don't you know the Snake family is a bad family?" his mother asked. "They have poison on their teeth. Don't ever let me catch you playing with one of them again. And don't let me see you crawling on your belly, either. It isn't proper." Meanwhile, Snake-child went home and hopped up and down for his mother to see. "Who taught you to do that?" she asked. "Frog-child did," he said. "He's my new friend."

57 "What foolishness," said his mother. "Don't you know we've been on bad terms with the Frog family for longer than anyone can remember? The next time you play with Frog-child, catch him and eat him up. And stop that hopping. It isn't our custom." So the next morning when Frog-child met Snake-child in the bush, he kept his distance. "I'm afraid I can't go crawling with you today," he called, hopping back a hop or two. Snake-child eyed him quietly, remembering what his mother had told him. "If he gets too close, I'll spring at him and eat him," he thought. But then he remembered how much fun they had had together, and how nice Frog-child had been to teach him how to hop. So he sighed sadly to himself and slid away into the bush. And from that day onward, Frog-child and Snake-child never played together again. But they often sat alone in the sun, each thinking about their one day of friendship.

Why would Jesus set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law; 36 and one’s foes will be members of one’s own household.? Simple. Jesus wants a new kingdom where Frogs and Snakes play together and they’re attempts and stopped by parents. I don’t think Jesus intended for all animals to get along, but I do think he intended for people not to fight like animals. Isaac Watts wrote, Let dogs delight to bark and bite… Let dogs delight to bark and bite, For God has made them so: Let bears and lions growl and fight, For ‘tis their nature, too. But, children, you should never let Such angry passions rise: Your little hands were never made To tear each other’s eyes.

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I did some research on conflict. Conflict exist in this tension between same and other: Conflict arises from the competition of same and other; When we find others, people who are different, we may try and control them and reduce the otherness among us. We may try and exclude them, then we can escape from their difference. Or we may try to annihilate them and destroy their othernesss. With Jesus, he intends for us to be different. With Jesus, others are necessary, part of completing and redefining us. Encounter with others, people who are different, provides us with the opportunity for transformation. Why did Jesus want to bring conflict to families, because families are not agents for growth, but usually fortresses of sameness.

Foolishness of the Gospel: Absurdity: everybody is insane

Once upon a time a king received a shocking report about the new harvest: Whoever eats of the crop becomes mad. So he called together his counselors. Since no other food was available, the alternative was clear. Not to eat of the new harvest would be to die of starvation, to eat would be to become mad. The decision reached by the king was: We will all have to eat, but let at least a few of us continue to keep in mind that we are mad. This parable by Rabbi Nahman of Bratslav (1772–1811) Insecurity of Freedom (Abraham Joshua Heschel)

Forgetfulness, Remember God, One Hundred Years of Solitude

In the book, One Hundred Years of Solitude is a story about a village where forgetfulness was a disease. The people were afflicted with a strange illness, and the result was that they became forgetful, a kind of conscious amnesia. The plague caused people to forget even the names of the most common everyday objects. One young man, still unaffected, tried to fight the forgetfulness and limit the damage done by the disease by putting labels on everything. “This is a table,” “This is a lamp, turn it on here.” “This is a window, open it to let in the breeze, close it to keep out the rain.” “This is a cow; it has to be milked every morning.” He put labels on everything. At the entrance of the town, on the main road, he put up two large signs. One read, “The name of our village is Macondo,” and the larger one read, “God exists.” Freedom quotes: We need to teach the next generation of children from day one that they are responsible for their lives. Mankind’s greatest gift, also its greatest curse, is that we have free choice. We can make our choices built from love or from fear. – Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

Freedom: choice: Glasser’s daughter not phone answerer Relationships involve expectations. With expectations come rules. Some of these rules are spoken and some are unspoken, but all are usually well known. William Glasser tells of his daughter and her encounter with her mother’s expectation and unspoken rule. William and his wife were at home. His wife said, “I’ve been calling Amy, (their adult daughter) all day and she doesn’t answer the phone. She said she was going to be home. I’m worried about her.” William said, “She’s got that big chair, she’s probably sitting in it reading and not answering the phone.” She said, “I’m worried, and I want to drive over and check on her.” 59

They did. As William suspected, Amy had been sitting in the chair reading. Mom said, “I called you all day, why didn’t you answer the phone?” “I was reading,” she replied. “Didn’t you hear it ring?” “Yes, but Mom, I’m not a phone answerer.” The unspoken rule was clear – “If the phone rings, you answer it.” But Amy also knew she had a power to choose. She had learned her father’s lesson mentioned earlier. When you answer the phone, you don’t answer it because it rang, you answer the phone because you choose to. When you stop at a red light, you don’t stop because the light is red, you stop because you choose to. We always have a choice no matter what the expectation or the rule. In the next scripture passage, Jesus encounters a group of rule abiding lepers. Notice how Jesus encourages them to break the rules.

God beyond perspective: Sense making, God is beyond

Our Genesis passage today, a friend explained to me, that this passage, rightly and reverently read, should have a pause… “In the beginning, God…” a long pause after God, to remind us God is the center of our story. Pat Conroy was the son of a Marine Colonel. As a result, he moved a lot. In his year at Gonzaga High School outside of Washington, D.C., he tells of his English teacher, Joseph Monte who sparked his love for literature and set him on the path for becoming a writer. Pat said this of his teacher, Mr. Monte gave off the aura of having read every book worth reading since Gutenberg invented the printing press. Monte told his class, “Read the great books. Just the great ones. Ignore the others. There’s not enough time.” “How will we know the great ones?” they asked. “Ask me,” he replied. Pat said, The way he talked about fiction must have been similar to the post-Pentecost apostles spreading the word of God.

One of the books Mr. Monte suggested Pat read was The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner. Pat had heard Mr. Monte speak of Faulkner often. He was excited to begin what his teacher considered Faulkner’s greatest work. Pat began reading. It was not the joy he expected. Pat read the first 92 pages, though he was well into the book, he had no sense of the plot, the character direction or any of the dialogue. He was taken aback. So he re-read the first 92 pages and still had no sense of the book at all. Disappointed, he approached Mr. Monte in the cafeteria. Pat told him he was not yet smart enough to read Faulkner, for he had not understood a single syllable of the first part. Do you ever feel that way when you open your Bible? Like you are just not yet smart enough to read scripture? Presbyterians, as a general rule, are very nervous talking about God, scripture, or faith. Presbyterians, as a general rule, leave that to the ‘better educated’, pastors, professors, and the like. Presbyterians, as a general rule, feel they are not yet smart enough to speak of God. So, Pat told his teacher, he had tried but couldn’t read The Sound and the Fury. Mr. Monte removed his glasses, polished them with a handkerchief. “Mr. Conroy, how familiar are you with Shakespeare?” Pat told him he had read Twelfth Night and Julius Caesar. “Do you know where Faulkner’s title The Sound and the Fury came from?” 60

Pat didn’t. “Go to Act 5, Scene 4 of Macbeth. There you will find a key to your dilemma if you are the student I think you are.” Pat went right to the library and removed a copy of Macbeth. There Pat found the answer and wrote it down in his notebook. The next day he approached Mr. Monte again. “Do you have something for me, Mr. Conroy?” his teacher asked. “I think I do,” he said as he opened his notebook. “Don’t waste my time, if you have something…out with it. Why did I send you to that phrase in Shakespeare?” “When he hears about the queen’s death, Macbeth says, ‘Out, out, brief candle,’.” “What does that mean Mr. Conroy, ‘Out, out brief candle’?” “How short life is.” “What does that tell you about Faulkner’s book?” “Nothing,” Pat replied, “it is later in the speech. Macbeth says, ‘It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.’” Pat explained that was when Faulkner’s novel became clearer to him. “I was confused but I was supposed to be confused, I was reading a tale told by an idiot, Benjy. It was surfaces and shadows and what Benjy thought he was seeing. Faulkner was writing through Benjy’s eyes…through an idiot’s eyes.”

Mr. Monte opened his gradebook, which he carried with him everywhere, and he entered a notation beside Pat’s name. “A+, double credit, Mr. Conroy. This is a good moment in the life of your mind. It is a good moment in my life as a teacher. We should both cherish it.” For those who do not think you are yet smart enough to speak of God, you are mistaken, by the fact that you think you are not smart enough to speak of God says that you are smart enough to speak of God. As Chinese philosopher Lao Tzu said, “Those who think they know, do not know. Those who think they do not know, know.” Our phrase from the Lord’s prayer is “Our father in heaven, hallowed is your name.” What do we mean when we think God’s name is hallowed? The word “hallowed” means set apart. The name of God is like no other name. In the Exodus passage, Moses on the mountain, in front of the burning bush, as he stands there God spoke from the bush. Moses then asked, “Who are you? What is your name?” God replied, “I am that I am.” Perhaps best understood, “You want to know who I am? You want to know my name? I am that I am. I am the one who cannot be named.” God’s name is hallowed, or set apart because God cannot be named. When Rome captured Jerusalem, Pompeii came into the city. He entered the Temple. Overcome with curiosity, he wanted to go to the center of the Temple of this God the Jews worshipped so fervently. He expected some image of marble, a statue a name, something, to his surprise, there was no name, no statue. Empty. The testimony is simple. God is the God who cannot be named. God is the God who cannot be imagined. Even to approach God we must set aside what name or images we have in mind. To cling too tightly to them is to close our minds to the unnameable. I love what Joseph Campbell said on PBS,

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You have to go past the imagined image… Such an image of one’s god becomes a final obstruction, one’s ultimate barrier. You hold on to your own ideology, your own little manner of thinking, and when a larger experience of God approaches, and experience greater than you are prepared to receive, you take flight from it by clinging to the image in your mind. This is known as preserving your faith. I love how the Hindu’s refer to God as the Unsearchable. They say we cannot talk about who or what God is, only what God is not. God as unsearchable is neti…neti, “not this…not this.” If you travel the world and say, “Not this…” to everything. Whatever is left. That is God. The more we learn about God, the more we understand that God is beyond all our learning. The more we understand about God, the more we see that God is beyond our understanding. The more we comprehend about God, the clearer we see that God is beyond all comprehension. An Indian prayer begins, “oh Thou, before whom all words recoil…” So the question then is, how do we live in relationship to this unnameable God? I think Buddha gave the best answer. “Are you a prophet?” “No,” was his answer. “Are you God?” he was asked. Again he answered, “No.” “Then who are you?” Buddha said, “I am a mind awake.” That’s the goal for us, living in relationship to this unnameable God, we should live as minds awake. We should live as lives awake to the powerful presence of the God whose name is hallowed.

God center, Kierkegaard theater of worship, God center

There is a way to find out if it is good religious drama or bad religious drama. Let’s play a game. Look in your bulletin. There in your bulletin is a stage and several different participants in our worship drama. Where do you think you would put the minister, the choir, the congregation, God on that stage in your bulletin?

Now look at our little game in your bulletin. Where did you put the congregation? In the seats?

Backstage

In our theater ofStage worship, insert in their proper ------places:

1. Minister 2. Choir 3. CongregationSeats 4. God

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Backstage

In our theater ofStageMinister worship, insertCONGREGATIONChoir in their proper ------places:

1. Minister 2. ChoirGOD 3. CongregationSeats 4. God

Kierkegaard said that we think about worship all wrong, the minister and the choir aren’t on stage and the congregation aren’t in the seats. Kierkeegaard said that it is the congregation on stage prompted by the minister and the congregation, and it is God in the audience. God is the audience. Worship is for God’s enjoyment. So good religious drama is not to draw attention of other’s to us, but is directed for God’s enjoyment.

God, enemies, Red Sea

In the Talmud, is the a Jewish story about the crossing of the Red Sea. The Israelites are running from the Egyptians. The Israelites are on foot. The Egyptians, horse and chariot. The Israelites are running out of time, when they run against the shore of the Red Sea. Miraculously, God divides the sea and Israel walks across safely. Egypt pursues through the divided sea, but when the final Israelite crosses, the sea closes engulfing and killing the Egyptians. Israel rejoices on the shore. The angels in heaven rejoice, but God weeps. The angels come to him and say, “Look most high, your people are rejoicing. How can you weep while your people are rejoicing?” Then God, with tears in his eyes says to the angels, “My people are dying. How can you rejoice when my people are dying?” The choice the father made in the story was to do all he could – not for the destruction of his enemies, but for their salvation. He sends servants, more servants, he sends his son, hoping each time they will turn from their hatred and greed and restore themselves to him.

God: Theology, Eden talking about God rather than to God

Similarly, Walter Bruggemann wrote, God is treated as a third person. God is not a party in the discussion but is the involved object of the discussion. This is not a speech to God or with God but

63 about God. God has been objectified. The serpent is the first in the Bible to seem knowing and critical about God and to practice theology in the place of obedience.19 In the encounter with the serpent, they are threatened by God. God became the object, now God is the barrier to be avoided. All their energy went into not seeking truth but into avoiding God, escaping God, creating a world without God. JERUSALEM Consider Herod. Herod got the news of the arrival of God’s chosen, and his response, deception and then murder. He does all he can to kill God’s agent on earth and maintain his power. For Herod, God was only an object. For Herod God was something to be avoided. To face God he would have to give up the world he created for God’s world. CONSIDER THE RESULTS…. EDEN. They lost paradise. They tried to create a world without God and they wound up alienated and hiding, cold and alone. Phyllis Tribble wrote, …the serpent, woman and man turn God-the-subject into God-the-object. Their power to disobey leads, however, not to a change in the character of God (the divine continues to control the story) but rather to changes in their own portrayals: from creatures of delight… to creatures of death.20

Growth requires courage.

The acorn becomes an oak by means of automatic growth; no commitment is necessary. The kitten similarly becomes a cat on the basis of instinct. Nature and being are identical in creatures like them. But a man or woman becomes fully human only by his or her choices and his or her commitment to them. People attain worth and dignity by the multitude of decisions they make from day by day. These decisions require courage. – Rollo May

Growth, Characters, round and flat,

Stories are generally about great characters. I’ll name a story and you tell me the main character or characters. Gone with the Wind – Scarlet O’Hara, Rhett Butler. Moby Dick – Ahab, The Whale Catcher in the Rye – Holden Caufield Green Eggs and Ham – Sam, I am The Scarlet Letter – Hester Prynne Where the Wild Things Are - Max

19 Walter Brueggemann, Genesis, p.48 20 Phyllis Tribble, God and the Rhetoric of Sexuality, p.74. 64

To Kill a Mockingbird – Scout, Atticus, Jem, Dill… The Call of the Wild – Buck A Christmas Carol – Ebenezer Scrooge, he was such a character that he became a type – “Don’t be a Scrooge.” Matthew, Mark, Luke and John – Jesus… not just Jesus, but many characters who interact with Jesus. Stories fascinate us b/c, as Flannery O’Connor said, “they show us how some people do.”

Characters who grow, change, or surprise us are round. Characters who don’t grow, change, or surprise us are flat. In most Dickens’ novels, the secondary characters are all flat. Scrooge is round. He grows, stretches, changes, even surprises us. In To Kill a Mockingbird Scout and Atticus are round characters. Jem and Dill are pretty flat, and most others are really flat. It doesn’t mean that they are boring, they just don’t grow, change, or surprise us. One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest – nurse Ratchet… doesn’t change. flat. McMurphy, surprises continually… I get frustrated with characters who don’t grow or change over time. Harry Potter… Heroes… Lost… Once heroes become celebrities, they don’t grow… In the gospels there are round characters and flat characters. Pharisees are flat. They are the Nurse Ratchet’s of the gospels. All about rules and will kill to stay the same. So, what about you? Are you a round character? Do you grow? Change? Surprise?

Growth, takes time, no instant fixes

Perhaps to make these two groups clearer, let me contrast the wise and foolish farmer. When you were in college or in seminary, cramming may have worked. Cramming is waiting until the night before a test and forcing as much information in your head as you can. “It will be fresh for the test in the morning.” If you cram well, you might be able to put a whole semester of Western Civilization in your head in one all nighter. It is possible. Cramming doesn’t work on the farm. A foolish farmer tries to cram. He is in a hurry. He thinks, “Ooh, I forgot to till my field and plant my crop, maybe if I work all night I can produce a field of corn.” He can work as hard as he wants to, but there is no way he can produce corn over night. It won’t work. The wise farmer understands the power of time. Growth takes time. The law of the farm. Growth takes time. Not just farming, but ministry, anything real, honest, important, alive takes time. AN old hermit lived in the Lun Mountains of Korea. Many people sought his advice for he was a font of wisdom and was knowledgeable in the magical arts. One day, a woman came and pleaded with him to help her regain her husband’s affection. "He was so loving and caring before he left for the wars," she explained. "He has returned after three years but now he is cold and aloof." "War does these things to men," said the hermit. "They say you can make a potion that can kindle love in the person who consumes it," said the woman. 65

"I could make such a potion, it is true, but I lack one of the ingredients that go into its making." "What is this ingredient?" asked the woman. "It is a tiger’s whisker." The woman left promising to get what he wanted. The very next day she went in search of a tiger and finally saw one on the banks of a river. The tiger snarled when he saw her and she retreated. She returned to the spot the next day. Again the tiger snarled and again she retreated. But she kept going to the place and gradually the animal got used to her presence and stopped snarling. She began to bring him food. In course of time the tiger became so friendly that he would come right up to her to take the food. One day she timidly reached out and patted his head. A few days later she ran her hand down the side of his face. And then one day she deftly pulled out one of his whiskers. She rushed to the hermit’s house with the whisker. "I’ve got it!" she said, triumphantly. "Good," said the hermit. He took the whisker to the fireplace and dropped it into the fire. "W-what have you done!" said the woman, aghast. "You promised to make me a magic potion!" "You don’t need one," said the hermit, softly. "Tell me, how did you win the tiger’s affection? Through gentleness and a great deal of patience. Would a man be less responsive than a savage and blood thirsty beast? Go and win over your husband as you did the tiger." The woman turned over what the hermit had said, in her mind as she slowly made her way home. When she saw her husband her first instinct was to turn away, then remembering the tiger and the hermit’s words, she checked herself and moved forward, a smile on her face.

Heaven, beyond imagination, fork There was a young woman who had been diagnosed with a terminal illness and had been given three months to live. So as she was getting her things "in order," she contacted her pastor and had him come to her house to discuss certain aspects of her final wishes.

She told him which songs she wanted sung at the service, what scriptures she would like read, and what outfit she wanted to be buried in. Everything was in order and the pastor was preparing to leave when the young woman suddenly remembered something very important to her.

"There's one more thing," she said excitedly. "What's that?" came the pastor's reply. "This is very important," the young woman continued. "I want to be buried with a fork in my right hand." The pastor stood looking at the young woman, not knowing quite what to say. "That surprises you, doesn't it?" the young woman asked. "Well, to be honest, I'm puzzled by the request," said the pastor.

The young woman explained. "My grandmother once told me this story, and from there on out, I have always done so. I have also, always tried to pass along its message to those I love and those who are in need of encouragement." "In all my years of attending church socials and potluck dinners, I always remember that when the dishes of the main course were being cleared, someone would inevitably lean over and say, 'Keep your fork.' It was my favorite part because I knew that something better was coming...like velvety chocolate cake or deep-dish apple pie. Something wonderful, and with substance!"

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"So, I just want people to see me there in that casket with a fork in my hand and I want them to wonder, 'What's with the fork?' Then I want you to tell them: 'Keep your fork ... the best is yet to come.'"

At the funeral people were walking by the young woman's casket and they saw the pretty dress she was wearing and the fork placed in her right hand.

Over and over, the pastor heard the question. "What's with the fork?" And over and over he smiled. During his message, the pastor told the people of the conversation he had with the young woman shortly before she died. He told them about the fork and about what it symbolized to her. The pastor told the people how he could not stop thinking about the fork and told them that they probably would not be able to stop thinking about it either.

See, perspective, see what looking for, Kingdom

It’s not that God is more present here, but we are… or could be… Take a look around where you’re sitting and find five things that have blue in them. G With a “blue” mindset, you’ll find that blue jumps right out at you: a blue book on the table, a blue pillow on the couch , blue in the painting on the wall, and so on. Similarly, whenever you learn a new word, you hear it six times in the next two days. In like fashion, you’ve probably noticed that after you buy a new car, you promptly see that make of car everywhere. (A man said that once he sold his Buick, he stopped seing Buicks.) That’s because people find what they’re looking for. If you’re looking for conspiracies, you’ll find conspiracies. If you’re looking for examples of humanity’s good works, you’ll find that too. It’s all a matter of setting your mental channel. Roger von Oech. It’s like the “Where’s Waldo” puzzles, once you see Waldo you become Waldo conscious.

Heaven: no hierarchy: no caste system: Judging others, categories, scoring, C.S. Lewis Great Divorce

C.S. Lewis wrote a novel about heaven entitled The Great Divorce. In it a group of people in Hell, which is a miserable, gray, British city, take a bus ride to Heaven. Heaven is bright and cheerful. They are welcomed with hospitality and warmth by their friends. But by the end of the day, all except one get back on the bus to Hell. Scott Peck paraphrases the story this way, Let’s say one of the people on the bus is a man who is welcomed by his nephew. He is surprised to find his nephew in Heaven, because he thought the young man had never amounted to much on earth. But the nephew is very welcoming and Heaven is bright and cheerful. The man says, “This seems a nice enough sort of place and I might want to stay here. Now, as you know, I was a professor of history at Columbia University. Do you have universities here?” The nephew says, “Yes, Uncle, of course.” “I assume that I would get tenure.” “But of course you’d get tenure. Everybody in Heaven has tenure.” The uncle is astonished. “How is it possible for everyone to get tenure? Don’t you distinguish between the competent and the incompetent?” The nephew says, “Everybody is competent here, Uncle.” That doesn’t sit well with his uncle, but he continues to interrogate his nephew. “As you know, I was chairman of the department, and I assume I would be chairman here.” 67

“I’m sorry, but we don’t have chairmen. It doesn’t work that way. Everyone is responsible, so we work by consensus and just don’t seem to need chair people anymore.” That’s when the uncle sputters, “If you think I’m going to join some kind of half-baked organization that doesn’t distinguish between the competent and the riffraff, you’ve got another think coming.” So he boards the bus and goes back to Hell. Intelligence, the desire to classify, clarify, and quantify, separated him – with a false sense of superiority, and kept him in hell.

Hope, I have wings, Gertie

Gertie was a very small bird. I’m not sure what kind of bird she was. She was brown. Gertie had been flying for a long time. She landed on the tree limb of a very big tree. I’m not sure what kind of tree it was, but it was brown. Gertie’s little heart was beating, and she was breathing quite fast. When she heard something climbing up the tree. She looked and there was a bushy tailed squirrel climbing up. I’m not sure what kind of squirrel it was, but it was brown. That squirrel didn’t see Gertie, so when he got to the limb she was sitting on, Gertie said, “Hi.” “Whoa!” yelled the squirrel. “I didn’t see you sitting there. You scared me.” “Sorry,” said Gertie. “I was just sitting here resting.” “Well,” said the squirrel, “you better not sit here too long. There is a big storm coming.” “How do you know?” asked Gertie. “I know,” said the squirrel, “because the fur in my tail is getting all bristly.” He climbed up and sat next to Gertie. He pulled his tail around so she could see it and sure enough, it was all bristly. She looked higher in the tree and could see that the branches were starting to sway gently in the wind. “I think you’re right,” she said, “there is a storm coming.” “There will probably be wind,” said the squirrel. “Probably,” said Gertie. “And rain,” said the squirrel. “Probably,” said Gertie. “And thunder,” said the squirrel. “Probably,” said Gertie. “Aren’t you afraid?” asked the squirrel. “Nope,” said Gertie. “Well you will be,” said the squirrel. Just then a large streak of lightening lit up the sky and soon after a large clap of thunder rang out. “What about now?” said the squirrel. “Are you afraid yet?” “Nope,” said Gertie. Rain started to fall. “What about now, are you afraid yet?” “Nope” said Gertie. A strong wind blew and the tree swayed. Gertie and the squirrel had to hold on tight. “Are you afraid yet?” asked the squirrel. “I am,” said the squirrel. The wind blew again, and the squirrel ran for cover in a hole in the tree. He stuck his head out the hole and asked, “What about now? Are you afraid?” Before Gertie could reply, the strongest gust of wind blew her right off the tree. “Little Bird!” shouted the squirrel as he reached out his hand to catch her but he was too late. Gertie shouted back, “The storm can rage all it likes, because no matter how hard the wind gets, I still have wings! God has given me wings.” 68

The good news of the gospel is not that we don’t die, it is not that we will never suffer or struggle, the good news of the gospel is that God has given us wings, and hope greater than our struggles, courage greater than our fears, life greater than our deaths. The good news of the gospel. Thanks be to God.

Humility, rule #6, conflict, competing, categories,

The board of directors of two companies meet together to discuss a merger and the meeting gets quite passionate. A member of the board starts yelling at the guests from the other company. The director of the hosting board looks at the impassioned yeller and says, “Bob, remember rule #6.” Bob says, “Yes, you’re right,” and quickly quiets down. The discussion continues. Again a member of the hosting company gets angry, and this one pounds her fists on the table during the discussion. The chairman again says, “Melanie, remember rule #6. The discussion again continues. It grows more and more heated. The sides grow angry, the tension builds so high that it would seem the two sides were about to rush each other like when the benches clear at a baseball game. The chairman then says to his group, “I need to remind you all…rule #6.” The tension subsided and discussions were able to continue. During a coffee break, the chairman of the other company said to the hosting chairman, “I have never seen anything like that. Just what is this rule #6 that has such an effect on your other board members?” “Well,” he said, “rule #6 is simply this. ‘Don’t take yourself so seriously.’” “Ah,” said the visitor. “That’s a fine rule. Just what are the other rules?” “Oh,” said the chairman, “there are no other rules.”

Image: Humility: Union Seminary Abraham stay with ass

At Union Seminary in Richmond Virginia, a professor was teaching on Abraham and Isaac and how Abraham with Isaac went up to the mountain with a couple of servants and a donkey or two… The professor told the class at the beginning, “I’m going to have to end class early today because I am leading chapel so I won’t be taking any questions at the end of the lecture.” The professor gave the lecture, put his books in his satchel and started toward the door. Professor, a quick question,” said one student as he stood up. But then proceeded to ask the longest question… the question went on and on… the professor looked at his watch, the door, then the class… the student was still asking his question. It was clear to everyone, the student was asking a question not to learn but to show what he knew. The professor interrupted, he spoke not to the young man, but to the rest of the class. “As our great patriarch Abraham said to his servants before he and Isaac headed up the mountain in Genesis 22: 5ye (stay) here with the ass; (while) I …go yonder and worship…

Image: Prejudice, Insults, show us what’s inside us

In Pat Conroy’s book, “My Losing Season”, he tells of the Citadel’s first game against an integrated team. Old Dominion was in the Mason-Dixon Conference and had asked for a game with the Citadel of the Southern Conference. In the days before the game, Mel, Conroy’s coach, spoke of Old Dominion with contempt.

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In his pregame speech, Mel spoke not only of Old Dominion but their two black guards, the first two black players their team had played against and the first two to ever take the court in The Citadel’s Armory. Mel sneered, “Old Dominion. We don’t know much about this team, but how much do you need to know about Old Dominion of the Mason-Dixon Conference? (They’ve) got these two black guards named Prichett and Speakes. Now Tee and John, you don’t play black kids like you do white kids. You play ‘em tough. You get in their faces and rough them up. Black kids don’t like to play rough and tumble Citadel basketball. They like to play pretty and fancy, they sure don’t like taking their licks.” Then he said in condemnation of blacks, “I don’t know whether blacks (even) have a place in (the game of basketball at all)…” Mel passed judgment on blacks but the judgment came back on himself? In beautiful Conroy style, Pat added, “Prophecy was not Mel Thompson’s long suit.” “Judge not lest ye be judged” in plain sight. In seeking to judge others, he passed judgment on himself. Two teachers, each followed by their students, came across one another on the road. They greeted each other. The teachers saw this as an opportunity to teach their students. One teacher asked the other, “What do you see when you look at me?” “When I look at you, I see a pool of calm water. What do you see when you look at me?” “When I look at you,” the other teacher said, “I see the trivial, the insignificant. When I look at you I see the sweat of a gnat.” Both teacher’s nodded and headed on their way. The second group of students laughed, they repeated to each other, “sweat of a gnat” with pride their teacher had insulted the other teacher so well. “What are you laughing at?” the teacher asked. “How well you defeated the other teacher,” they replied. “I did not defeat him in my insult. What did he see when he looked at me?” “Calm water.” “And what did I see when I looked at him?” “Gnat sweat.” “In that I am defeated. When he looked at me and saw calm water, that was because he is calm water on the inside. When I looked at him and saw gnat sweat, it is because on the inside I am petty and insignificant. We see others from what is within ourselves.” What ever judgment we pass on others, reveals what is inside us.

Image: Responsibility, Prussian Prison guilty, and Grace

The King of Prussia, Frederick II, was interested in the conditions of the Berlin prison and was escorted through it so that he might speak to some of the prisoners. Knowing that he had the power to set them free, one by one they came before the king, “Your majesty, I shouldn’t be here. I am an innocent man.” “Your majesty, I was framed. I did not steal. I have never stolen anything in my life!” “O King, have mercy on me. The judge has it against me, that’s why I am here.” One after one the men came protesting their innocence to the king. The king saw off in the corner a man alone. His head down. The king approached him but the man didn’t raise his head. The king asked, “What about you? What crime were you charged with?” “Robbery, Sir,” was the reply. “Are you guilty?” asked the king. “Yes, Sir, entirely guilty. I deserve my punishment.”

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The king smiled. “Warden,” he commanded, “take this man out of the prison. I will not have this guilty wretch inhabiting this jail. By his example he might corrupt all the innocent people who live here!” Our text today is a challenge from Jesus to be open and honest, to stop pretending to be something we’re not. Jesus says, “You pretend to to be so holy, ‘Brother, let me help you with that speck in your eye’ while all the time you are blinded by the log in your own!” Then Jesus says, “You hypocrite!” “Hypocrite” sounds like an insult (and Jesus didn’t even say, “bless your heart”). But it wasn’t an insult. It wasn’t a condemnation. It was a challenge. Near Jesus’ home when he was growing up was being built a Greco Roman theater where Greek actors or “hypocrites” would entertain the multinational crowds. “Hypocrites” were actors. They played a role. When Jesus used it, he used challenging people he was saying, “You hypocrites. You actors. You aren’t that innocent. You aren’t above the person with the speck in his eye, or the other people around you. You are just acting – playing out a role.” ‘Hypocrite’ wasn’t a condemnation, but a call to wake up. To quit acting and be real open and honest, to quit denying it and face the fact we are all sinners and haven’t lived up to being who God made us to be! I wonder about Adam and Eve, I wonder if their chief problem wasn’t that they sinned, that they ate from the tree, but that they covered it up. They were given one prohibition to living in the Garden of Eden. Don’t eat from one tree. When they broke God’s law, they denied it. “It was that woman YOU gave me.” Eve says, “It was the snake.” My wonder is this, would they have been thrown out of the garden if they hadn’t denied it – if they had been open and honest with God? “I blew it! I know you said don’t ate from the tree. What the others did was irrelevant. I knew yet I did otherwise.” Would they have been thrown out of the garden, maybe not. Maybe our first step toward living in paradise is to be open and honest about our failings. Jesus was saying, if you are going to deal with evil problems then start with yourself. Augustine’s, “Never treat evil as if it were something totally outside yourself.” Ghandi said, “I have only three enemies. My favorite enemy, the one most easily influenced for the better, is the British Empire. My second enemy, the Indian people, is far more difficult. But my most formidable opponent is a man named Mohandas K. Gandi. With him I seem to have very little influence.” If as the church we will start dealing with the evil that is in ourselves, our own sinful nature, we will find that it is that sinful nature that unites us. I remember a dear lady in a Bible class I was leading asked me, “Do you know the difference between a church and a country club?” Not sure what she was thinking, I responded, “Tell me.” “You get to be in a country club because of who you are. You get to be in the church because of who you are not.” The puzzled look on my face gave me away. “You get to be in a country club because of your status in the community, what you’ve done, how much money you have. Who you are. The church is the only place where you get in for who you’re not. ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner. I’m not who I could have been.” In a similar story, I heard of a man who moved to a new city and started looking for a church to join. He was about to give up finding jus the right one until one Sunday he dropped into a church and heard the preacher say, “God forgive us. We have not been who we were created to be. We have left undone the things we ought to have done and we have done those things which we ought not to have done! Have mercy on us.” 71

The visitor sat back with a sigh of relief and said, “Thank you, I have finally found my crowd at last.” The church is built on the fact that we are sinners. From this pulpit, the fact that we are all sinners isn’t preached much because it is the one fact of the church that has been self evident in our lives. I know about the sin in me. I know you well enough to know about the sin in you. That’s not talked about much from this pulpit because there is a greater fact that unites us together. It is this. The love, grace and mercy that is in the heart of God is stronger than the sin and the evil that is in us, all of us. As the church, what we offer the world is the message that the grace, love and mercy of God are stronger than any sin, any evil that is in us. In that message is a call to look at the logs in our own eyes, consider the evil that is in us, be open, honest responsible, quit acting and turn toward the God of light so that nothing is hidden, knowing that God is the God of love so that nothing has to be hidden, we can be hypocrites no more.

Images and masks: Gorilla suit and lion

This guy needs a job and decides to apply at the zoo. As it happened, their star attraction, a gorilla, had passed away the night before and they had carefully preserved his hide. They tell this guy that they'll pay him well if he would dress up in the gorillas skin and pretend to be the gorilla so people will keep coming to the zoo. Well, the guy has his doubts, but Hey! He needs the money, so he puts on the skin and goes out into the cage. The people all cheer to see him. He plays up to the audience and they just eat it up. This isn't so bad, he thinks, and he starts really putting on a show, jumping around, beating his chest and roaring, swinging around. During one acrobatic attempt, though, he loses his balance and crashes through some safety netting, landing square in the middle of the lion cage! As he lies there stunned, the lion roars. He's terrified and starts screaming, "Help, Help, Help!" The lion races over to him, places his paws on his chest and hisses, "Shut up or we'll BOTH lose our jobs!"

Images of self A woman came hobbling down the street. “Poor Mary,” said Sophia. “She has suffered for what she believes.” “And what does she believe?” asked a friend. “She believes that she can wear a size six shoe on her size nine foot.”

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“Don’t spend so much time worrying about what other people think of you,” Sophia instructed her students. Their looks told Sophia they were unaware of what she was speaking about so she told them the story of the flea family and the elephant. “One a flea approached an elephant, ‘Mr. Elephant, my family and I would like to move into your ear. We intend to be no trouble, would you mind if we live in your ear?’ The elephant said nothing because he heard nothing. The flea added, ‘If we are too rambunctious or too loud, just let us know.’ Again the elephant said nothing. “The flea family lived in the ear for a while. ‘I don’t like it here,’ Mrs. Flea said. ‘Let’s move out.’ Mr. Flea was concerned that the elephant would miss them when they left but consented to his wife’s wishes. ‘Mr. Elephant,’ the flea said. ‘I hate to tell you this. We are going to move. My wife wants a

72 place more stationary. I’m sorry we’ll have to leave, but you have been a marvelous host.’ Again the elephant said nothing because he heard nothing or noticed nothing.” Her students still gave Sophia a puzzled look. “People don’t think of you as much as you think they think of you.” Her students nodded in understanding.

Sophia was asked how she seemed so impervious to what people thought of her. Sophia replied, “Before I was twenty, I wondered what people thought of me. After I was twenty, I worried about what others thought of me. Then one day, after fifty, I saw that people hardly thought of me at all.”

images, insults

A teacher was sharing with her students on how tightly held images can run our lives and shape our behaviors. One student raised his hand to ask a question. She acknowledged him. He stood up and said, “I don’t agree that I have any images of self, nor do I think I hold tightly to them at all. I think I am free of self images.” She pointed her finger at him angrily and shouted, “Sit down, you bastard!” The student was livid, he yelled back, “How can you consider yourself an enlightened person? You are no teacher! You ought to be ashamed of yourself.” The teacher replied, “Please forgive me, I was carried away. I don’t know what came over me. You are right.” The man calmed down. She then told him, “Notice how at a single word of insult from me, a tempest flared inside you. Then, with an apology, the emotions calmed down. The emotions you felt are rooted in your images of self. Without a strongly held, unseen image of self, my insult would have no meaning, but because you hold tightly to your image, you are easily insulted because your tightly held image is easily threatened. Only images can be insulted. The self can never be.”

Images: God as our example: God and our idolatrous images: humanity seen in Jesus: God seen in Jesus: Charlie Chaplin: because we already know what he looks like in our images we don’t recognize him when we see him: Plato shadow

Charlie Chaplin was a famous movie star early in the last century. He had a distinctive walk, a distinctive way of moving, a distinctive style. One day, Chaplin entered a Charlie Chaplin Look Alike contest. Chaplin came in third. There was the public image of Chaplin, the image formed by the screen, and there was Chaplin. Chaplin the man, and Chaplin the actor, were both different from the images the judges had of Chaplin. In a similar way, there is God, and there is our image of God. If God were to enter into a God-look-alike contest, what place would God come in? Third? There is God and there is our image of God. John says, If you want to know what God looks like, we see God in Jesus, Jesus is the Word of God, the expression of God. John begins his gospel, In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2 He was in the beginning with God. John uses the Greek word Logos, or the Word. This idea the Word as opposed to other words, or expressions of God is rooted in Plato’s philosophy.

Plato’s view of the world was this, there wasn’t just one world but two worlds. There was the world of Shadow and the Real or True World.

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Everything in this existence was a shadow of its truer form. There is the image of Chaplin and there is Chaplin. For Plato, this chair is a shadow of a true chair. For example, Charity as we understand it is shadowy, clean out your closet, give away those pants you can’t wear, the shoes with holes in them, the ties your mother in law gave you… True charity which includes compassion, mercy, hope, and love enacted. John writes that besides our images of God, there is the image, the expression, which he sees in Jesus.

Images: Hypocrite, actor, Brother Roy Dobb

Brother Roy Dodd was known for his theatrics and for a visual sign of the spirit when he called for the Holy Ghost to come down. Seems at Brother Roy Dodd’s command the spirit in the form of a white dove would descend from above. One day, Brother Roy Dodd was preaching away, the crowd was getting excited. Brother Roy Dodd shouted out, “Holy Ghost come down!” The crowd waited. All got quiet. “Holy Ghost come down!” Nothing. Again with more authority, “Holy Ghost come down!” Then a voice came back from a hiding place in the rafters, “Brother Roy Dodd. A big yeller cat came and ate the Holy Ghost dove, do you want me to throw down the yeller cat?” It seemed that after the cat fiasco, Brother Roy Dodd’s attendance dropped some. Then the next summer that Brother Roy Dodd came to town, he claimed to have been to Mexico and had a holy man of God had laid hands on him and given Brother Roy Dodd the gift of healing. Miss Inez Pickett, a stout woman in her late fifties, came to see Brother Roy Dodd one night during the tent revival complaining of… some sort of kidney disorder. Brother Roy Dodd asked Miss Inez where it hurt. “My back,” said Miss Inez. Brother Roy Dodd put his hands firmly on Miss Inez’s back and shook her kidneys with great force as he prayed. “Did you feel that, Sister Inez?” asked Brother Roy Dodd. “I think I did!” shouted Miss Inez. “Then you are healed,” said Brother Roy Dodd. Miss Inez, plagued by her infirmity for many years, bounded about the platform in the manner of a much younger woman and made a number of joyful noises. Then she fell off the platform in her excitement, and you could hear the bone snap in her leg. “Someone call an ambulance!” the first one to her said. “No need to do that,” said somebody else. “Just get Brother Roy Dodd to do another healing.” “Don’t do broke bones,” said Brother Roy Dodd. “Just vital organs.” That wasn’t the only problem Brother Roy Dodd had. In the middle of one of one of his better sermons on the nature of hell, a man stood up in the back and shouted, “Brother Roy Dodd! Have you ever taken up the serpent?” There is a verse in the book of Mark that describes the faithful taking up serpents without getting bit, and he wanted to know if Brother Roy had ever handled a serpent. Brother Roy didn’t reply but kept on preaching so the man shouted again. “Have you ever taken up the serpent, Brother Roy Dodd?” “No, sir,” Brother Roy responded “and kept on preaching.” The man in the back wasn’t really satisfied so he came forward. But he wasn’t alone. He had a wrinkled brown sack in his hand. “I’m asking you now to show you are a man of faith and take up this serpent!” The man dumped the sack at Brother Roy Dodd’s feet. A cottonmouth moccasin of some size came slithering out. Through some serious nonverbal communication, the snake was informing Brother 74

Roy Dodd and the rest of the congregation that he did not appreciate being involved in this significant religious experience. Brother Dodd looked at that snake for a moment, not sure of what to do. He then reached over and grabbed the empty metal folding chair by the piano and beat the snake until he had more guts on the outside than the inside. When the snake was no longer moving, Brother Roy Dodd picked it up and held it out for the crowd and said, “I regret that I did not have the chance to save this belly crawling sinner before the Lord called him home.”21

Images: letting go of self images is liberating

Anthony De Mello has written many books on awakening to life. One way he cited to awaken to our lives is by finding life beyond our images. For De Mello, life beyond images is liberating. He wrote… What I’m about to say will sound a bit pompous, but it’s true. What is coming could be the most important minutes in your lives. If you could grasp this, you’d hit upon the secret of awakening. You would be happy forever. You would never be unhappy again. Nothing would have the power to hurt you again. I mean that, nothing. It’s like when you throw black paint in the air, the air remains uncontaminated. You never color the air black. No matter what happens to you, you remain uncontaminated. You remain at peace. There are human beings who have attained this, what I call being human. Not this nonsense of being a puppet, jerked about this way and that way, letting events or other people tell you how to feel. So you proceed to feel it and you call it being vulnerable. Ha! I call it being a puppet. So you want to be a puppet? Press a button and you’re down; do you like that? But if you refuse to identify with any of those labels (or images), most of your worries cease…. …understand who “I” is, and you’ll never be the same again, never. Nothing will be ever able to touch you again and no one will ever be able to hurt you again. You will fear no one and you will fear nothing. “Nothing will be able to hurt you again,” sounds strong, when we understand how much pain our images cause us, it makes sense.

Jesus: way: Church: Way: follow: Christianity, Confirmation, Religion about Jesus and Religion of Jesus, Follow Jesus

Willimon said this on confirmation… Someone else said that Confirmation is a time for classes so that the young people can ‘learn about the church.’ We agreed this was the problem, not the solution. We said we already have too many people who know something about Jesus, about the church. What we need is people who will follow Jesus, who will be the church. E. Stanley Jones, “We inoculate the world with a mild form of Christianity so that it will be immune to the real thing”

Journey for others part of the gift

Once a missionary teacher in an African village was worried about one of her pupils. He had been absent for two days in a row. He walked in later that school day, all dirty, and with a big smile on his face.

21 Second and third stories of Brother Roy Dodd came from Lewis Grizzard in The Laugh Shall be First p.68f edited by Will Willimon, the first story of the dove came from a humor collection. 75

In a small jar he handed her a gift. It was a jar full of sand from the by the sea with a sea shell on top. It would have taken him a full day to walk to the sea. The teacher took the jar from him and said, "Thank you for the beautiful present. But why did you travel so far." "The journey," replied her student, "is part of the gift."

Journey: don’t fight the mountains: live the moment A man came to Sophia, huffing after his third attempt to climb the mountain near her village. “Sophia,” he said. “I can’t understand it. I trained so hard and come to your village and climb the mountain. Yet, half way up, I got so tired and winded while even the smallest woman from your village carrying a large bundle on her head passed me by. How can this be?” “It’s simple,” said Sophia. “You are trying to conquer the mountain. You see the mountain as your opposition. The people of my village love the mountain. They see it as their friend. So, while you are battling the mountain up the hills, my people are simply strolling with a friend.”

Journey: Hurry, speed, present moment, Rory Sutherland, enjoy ride, journey

The train from London to Paris takes about three and a half hours. A group of engineers was asked, “How can we improve the ride from London to Paris?” The engineers discussed and debated, and they came up with a very expensive engineering solution which was to build new tracks from London to the coast. The cost would be over nine billion dollars. The question was also given to Rory Sutherland, an advertising executive. Rory felt that new track was a very unimaginative way of improving the journey. His suggestion was, if you want to improve the ride from London to Paris, hire all of the world's top male and female supermodels, pay them to walk the length of the train, handing out free Chateau Petrus (red wine). After you pay for the super models and the red wine, you’d still have five billion dollars left, and people would ask for the trains to be slowed down. What I see in the two suggestions to improve the train ride is two different mindsets. For the engineers, the train ride was all about the destination. So, improving the train was getting to the destination quicker. For the advertising exec., the train ride was about the journey. So, for him, improving the train was all about making the journey better. So, what I want to ask you is, in your approach to life, are you more like the engineers or the advertising executive, are you speeding down the tracks of your life to the next destination, the next marker, the next goal, or are you focused on the trip, the ride, is your life about the journey?

Journey: life: Life Pain: Journey, Baseball and Football, Carlin

In the U.S. we have two primary sports. Baseball and football. They began in different eras: baseball the 19th century and football the 20th. As a result they have very different attitudes about life. 22 Baseball is played on a diamond, a park, a baseball park. Football is played on a grid iron. Stadiums are given names like Soldier Field or War Memorial Stadium. Baseball is played in the spring, the season of new life. Football is played in the fall when everything dies.

22 Following Baseball/Football analysis is from George Carlin on the Tonight Show in October, 1999. 76

In baseball, you wear a cap. In football, you wear a helmet. In baseball the key word is UP. “Who’s up? I’m not up. You up?” In football, the key word is down. “What down is it? How many downs do we have?” In baseball, mistakes are called errors. You made a mistake, an error – oops. In football, there are penalties. Somebody blows a whistle, throws a flag at you, then turns on a microphone to tell everyone in the world what you did wrong. In baseball, players come in to relieve or save. In football, players come in to kick or punt. In baseball, there are words like ‘sacrifice.’ In football, there are words like clipping, spearing, hitting. In baseball, if it rains, you go home early. In football, you play in the rain, the sleet, fog, mud, whatever the conditions. The game goes on.

Journey: The poetry of Basho (1644-1694)

Basho found out quickly that leaving any place is painful. It was not easy for Basho to leave. The pain of departing he wrote down in the following two poems. The bee emerging from deep within the peony departs reluctantly Again, he was confident of the timing, it was time to go, but that didn’t make leaving easy. Spring passes and the birds cry out – tears in the eyes of fishes On Basho’s journey, he discovered that life is difficult. There is pain in life. He was doing the right thing, yet there was still pain. One poem I found that I did not put on your sheet is this one. In the season’s rain the crane’s long legs have suddenly been shortened The crane has adequate ability to stand in the river, but when the water rises, even the crane finds his ability taxed to the limit. On your page is this poem. Along the roadside, blossoming wild roses in my horse’s mouth The wild rose was beautiful, but temporary – devoured by the horse. Just like the rose, all people are temporary, all people die. The whole house each with white hair and cane— visiting a grave Basho realized that none of us are far from the grave. The question is not will I die or not, but will I die now or later. This became very real for Basho on his journey, when he lost his traveling companion, Ranran. In cold autumn wind, sadly it is broken – my mulberry walking stick In his loss, he discovered that no one or thing is permanent. We are all transitory, we are all on a journey. 77

Basho observed, The moon and sun are eternal travelers. Even the years wander on... every day itself is a journey, the journey itself is home. Our lives are a journey. When we become too attached, when we deny the journey, we become stagnant. We stop growing. When we hold too tightly to people, places, things, we lose sight of the journey. When we hold too tightly to houses, automobiles, possessions, even families, we stop growing!

Almost no one sees the blossoming chestnut under the eaves The chestnut tree that has been cut down and placed under a roof as part of a porch, it has lost its life. So, too, can we lose our life by becoming too attached to home, to possessions, to temporal things. Even the grass hut may be transformed into a doll’s house A grass hut is where real people abide. Too attached to our homes, we lose that sense of life. We stop being real people. We become artificial people. Doll’s. Our homes become doll’s houses. On his journey, he observes how tightly we cling to not just to our possessions, but our dreams, even though, he observes, all are mortal. The next poem on your list was not by Basho but by his teacher, Butcho, A five-foot thatched hut— I wouldn’t even put it up but for falling rain His teacher’s house was to keep the falling rain off his head. If there was no rain, he would have no need for it. His identity was in a person on a journey. He was growing. His house was not part of his identity, merely shelter. A tourist came through Poland and wanted to see the famous Rabbi. He went into his home and was amazed at house sparse the furnishings. “Rabbi, you have so little furniture.” “Oh, do I?” asked the Rabbi. “I notice that you don’t have any furniture with you.” “Me?” asked the tourist? “Me? I’m just passing through.” “Me, too,” replied the Rabbi. To hold too tightly to anything is to lose it Writing on my fan now it’s torn in half- for memory’s sake Basho found that if he could let go – he could open his life to something greater. Heavy falling mist-- Mount Fuji not visible, but still intriguing For Basho, Mt. Fuji was something so great, even though he couldn’t see it, Basho knew it was present. Basho had left home seeking something more, something greater, something he couldn’t see but knw was there. By letting go of material things, Basho found a greater sense of life. Summer grasses – all that remains of great soldiers’ imperial dreams The soldier’s dreams, as did the soldiers, died on a field of battle. Yet, in that field, grass grew. The grass was a greater sense of life than the soldier’s struggle. The following is not in Haiku form like the rest, but it carries the same sentiment. 78

In the springtime at the ruined castle the grass is always green The castle, what some people took such pride in, was in ruins. Yet the grass still grew. In the world is a greater life than our possessions or achievements. Sick to the bone if I should fall, I’ll lie in fields of clover Even greater than my body, Basho found, is the greater life. Basho found that in letting go, there was a greater sense of life. My ears purified by incense, now I can hear the cuckoo’s cry Lighting incense was a form of prayer. Basho found that through letting go and prayer he found a greater life, a holy life abounding. Even temple bells seem to be ringing in the cicada’s cry This bright harvest moon keeps me walking all night long around the pond He found joy. All day long, singing, yet the day’s not long enough for the skylark’s song The joy the sky lark knew was joy Basho found. He was a new person.

It must be someone else wearing this new kimono this New Year morning Instead of holding too tightly to life and possessions and becoming an inanimate doll, Basho

journey: through being lost: T.S. Eliot

In order to arrive at what you do not know You must go by a way which is the way of ignorance. In order to possess what you do not possess You must go by the way of dispossession. In order to arrive at what you are not You must go through the way in which you are not. And what you do not know is the only thing you know And what you own is what you do not own And where you are is where you are not. T.S. Eliot

Justice: With others, church: reinstated hierarchy and prejudice: hyponym, baptism, discrimination, nationality, divisions, unity, women first, labeling; habres beunos; good news: kingdom: new order not more of the same.

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A Chinese man and a Jewish man walk into a bar. They are sitting at the counter when suddenly, without warning, the Jewish man gets up, walks over to the Chinese man and smashes him across the face knocking him to the floor. Holding his throbbing jaw, he stands and asks, “What did you do that for?” “Pearl Harbor,” proclaims the Jew. “Pearl Harbor? I didn’t have anything to do with Pearl Harbor! I’m Chinese, that was the Japanese that bombed Pearl Harbor.” “Chinese, Taiwanese, Japanese, all the same to me,” responds the Jew. With that, both sit down again at the counter. Then the Chinese man gets up and hits the Jew in the face. “What was that for?” he asks. “For the Titanic!” he proclaims. “Titanic? I didn’t have anything to do with the Titanic, it hit an Iceberg!” “Goldberg, Feinberg, Iceberg,” they’re all the same to me. A new world order is a threat to the old world order. But the new world order didn’t stop after Jesus died. The first people Jesus appeared to after he rose were – you guessed it, women. That’s one of the reasons I believe it happened. No self respecting group of men of that day would have made this up if it weren’t true – Jesus appeared to the women first. Jesus brought the kingdom of God among us – a new order and a new way of life for men and women. It was just the beginning and it spread through the early church.

In the early church, women were every bit as vital to life in the early church as men: 1. They received the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. 2. They headed house churches. 3. They were coworkers. 4. They were jailed like men. 5. They bore the name of apostles, disciples and deacons. 6. They led the early church and in one case a woman named Phoebe was claimed by Paul to rule over himself.23 The new order where women and Gentiles alike were children of Abraham – children of God was the central piece to the infantile church! Keith Miller proposed in his book The Scent of Love that the reason why the early Christians were such successful evangelists is not because of their charisms – spriritual gifts like speaking in tongues, and certainly not because it was such a platable doctrine, but because they had community – that was foreign to the rest of the world. Someone would walk down a back street in Corinth or Ephesus and would see people walking together who were normally separated, people eating together who were normally separated, the barriers of the day meant nothing to them. The early church had a vision for this new order as Paul described it in Galatians “there is… no longer male and female, Jew or Greek, slave or free; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.” The early church had a sense of community foreign to the world. They had a new world order. They had it and we lost it. They understood that the Christ has come, He has brought “good news to the poor, proclaimed release to the captives, let the oppressed go free, 19 and proclaimed the year of the Lord’s favor.” The tragedy is that we took this new world order and turned it into a religion like any other, something that

23 for scripture references see Wink, p.133. 80 divides and separates, something that reinforces the power structure of oppressors instead of freeing the oppressed, a religion that has only added to the world’s prejudices. My confession for white male Presbyterians in America is that we have had no social gospel. We’d rather talk about our eternal souls than about a new order which threatens what little power that we have. In order to preserve our own power, we have rejected the new order and continually re- established the old, over and over again. Like Adam and Eve turning their back on paradise so, too we have turned our back on the true gospel.

I read of a church that uses barb wire around its Advent wreath. Perhaps that is the best symbol. The Christ has come. The new order has been declared and we have surrounded it with barbed wire. If you ask any Jewish person today why they don’t believe that Jesus is the Messiah, they will tell you that they look at the world and they see no change, they see no new world order. They are right… Yet there is hope, even to American white male Presbyterians here in Williamson County.. Every year, we tell the story again and again. The story of the Christ coming into the world. Every year we tell of the wondrous birth that made a pregnant unwed teenager a saint and the poor of Bethlehem the first receivers of Christmas gift. The one who brought “good news to the poor, proclaimed release to the captives, let the oppressed go free, 19 and proclaimed the year of the Lord’s favor” has come.

Every year we tell the story. Maybe this year we will all take our place as children of God. Maybe we will take our place with the Christ living out the gospel, living out the new world order. Perhaps this year at Harpeth,

The spirit of the Lord GOD will be upon us, because the LORD will anoint us; Because the Lord will send us to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners; 2 to proclaim the year of the LORD’s favor… In Turkey, there is a longstanding tradition of when a woman sees a bird near her house or land on a windowsill, she says, “Haberes Buenos.” Hberes means ‘news’ and Buenos means ‘good.’ So she is saying that the bird is bringing good news. (Act out using one boy as king with several wives. Is that fair. Have them be seated then tell story.) The story is that long ago, women asked king Solomon why men were allowed to marry more than one woman but women weren’t allowed the same right. Even wise King Solomon was stumped. He replied, “Only God knows.” Well the women weren’t satisfied with that answer, so Solomon said, “Let’s ask God.” Solomon wrote the question on a piece of parchment and tied it to the leg of a bird. Solomon sent the bird to flight with the instruction of taking the message to God and not to come back without an answer. The women waited for an answer, but unfortunately, the bird did not return. That is why whenever a bird stands next to the window of the house, all the women say, “Haberes Buenos – maybe this bird is bringing good news.” At Christmas, we tell the story of the Christ coming as the one bringing good news that all people, men and women, boys and girls, all colors, all races are children of God. This is the word of the Lord. Thanks be to God. I meet weekly with a group of pastors for support and study.

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Each Monday we gather for lunch at a local restaurant and then return to one of our churches to discuss the lectionary passages for the upcoming Sunday. We examine the scriptures together struggling for the deeper meanings of the texts hoping to discover a message for our congregations. At one particular meeting, we read from the book of Isaiah chapter 61 The spirit of the Lord GOD is upon me, because the LORD has anointed me; he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners; 2 to proclaim the year of the LORD’s favor… Important words for us in the churches we serve for this passage was the one Jesus chose to describe his purpose, his ministry. Since Jesus saw himself not just as good news, but good news for the oppressed, I raised the question, “Why is the message of Jesus as the Christ good news for the oppressed?” To my surprise, our often talkative group was silent. I asked again, “Jesus saw himself as fulfilling this passage, so just what is the good news of Jesus for the oppressed?” More silence. I rephrased the question. “In what ways are lives of oppressed people better off today than before Jesus was born?” An attempt was made to define oppression in terms of vague undetectable spiritual oppression, yet without a measurable oppression, it is hard to detect a measurable deliverance or definable good news in Jesus. In our group that day, we spoke words as preachers often do, but we said nothing. If you were asked, “In what ways are lives of oppressed people better off today than before Jesus was born?” what would you say? Sue Monk Kidd in her book Dance of the Dissident Daughter recalls sitting in church with her daughter, Ann. Ann, then eight, tugged on my dress during a church service while the minister was ordaining a new set of deacons. “When are they going to do the women?” she asked. “The women?” I echoed. She nodded. Her assumption of equality was earnest and endearing… “They don’t ordain women, honey, only men.” She frowned truly puzzled. In ordaining both women and men to roles of leadership, our church is not the norm but the exception. If Sue’s daughter Anna asked you, “What is the good news of Jesus for women who have been treated like second rate citizens in the church?” what would you tell her? What would you tell her that Jesus is the good news for her? Last week during Adult Sunday School, we read the following poem by Countee Cullen.

Once riding in old Baltimore, Heart-filled, head-filled with glee, I saw a Baltimorean Keep looking straight at me.

Now I was eight and very small, And he was no whit bigger, And so I smiled, but he poked out His tongue, and called me, 'Nigger.'

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I saw the whole of Baltimore From May until December, Of all the things that happened there That's all that I remember.

The small boy reaches out to another child in friendship. He smiles. The child responds. “Nigger.” In one word, one child labels another. One child tells another, “You are not worthy of my friendship or even a cordial greeting. You are less than I. You are less than human.” That one word said so much. That one word was unforgettable. He was labeled.

If Cullen told you this story, what would you tell him is the good news of Jesus for him? I don’t know much about being oppressed, but I do know something about being labeled. I am not black. No one has ever called me ‘nigger’. But I have my own painful experience of being labeled. The most painful was the title, “Slow.” Through the years, many times, I have been called, “Slow.” I have a rare muscle disorder known as glycogen storage disease. My body does not burn glycogen, the muscle fuel that allows the body to move in endurance exercise. If you have ever seen a triathlon when the athletes are approaching the finish line and they have burned up all the glycogen in their bodies and can barely make it, that’s what my body does at the beginning of the race, not the end. What it means for me is cramps and that I generally run at the speed of a turtle with four sprained ankles. The label ‘slow’ was first given to me in the first grade. In the first grade, the teacher, in order to burn our extra energy before returning us to our over restrictive first grade chairs, said, “Okay, everyone, I want you to race to that tree (about forty yards away) and back.” Off we raced. I remember time and again watching my classmates distance themselves from me. Ahh, the familiar race from the rear. It first began, not as a painful label, but just as an observation by my fellow six year olds. “You sure are slow.” As years went by, for budding males, athletics was a way to show your value. On team sports, I watched my friends excel. As I got older, I became more and more a pylon on the field, the one almost frozen solid as others passed, kicked, dribbled around me. In my baseball career, I spent many times at bat hitting a single but running so slow I watched the fielders recover to turn my single into an easy out. Not only was I called “Slow” but I was given a new label, “Easy out.” I found a way around my ‘deformity’. I developed a sure fire way to get on base – step into the pitch and let it hit you. Pitchers started working hard not to hit me. Then I would walk. Getting hit or walking on four bad pitches, I took my base with pride. Then I could count on hearing the coach yell, “Pinch runner!” “Slow” was a painful For me, the question of “What is the good news of Jesus for the oppressed?” can be answered by asking, “What is the good news of Jesus for the labeled?” Over the next several weeks, we will examine the gospel as good news for the labeled. Today we’ll begin with the beginning of Jesus’ ministry, and John the Baptist. As Paul described it in Romans 8: For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received a spirit of adoption. When we cry, “Abba! Father!” 16 it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God, 17 and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ

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The gospel is not a theory to be debated, a belief to be argued, but a declaration to be shared. That’s our good news. A name has been given to you above all names, no one can take it away from you, nothing can strip it of its power…not even death.

Kingdom of Heaven: Like a party: Foolishness of Gospel A man and his wife are awakened at 3 o'clock in the morning by a loud pounding on the door. The man gets up and goes to the door where a stranger stands in the pouring down rain. "Can you give me a push?" he asks while hanging onto the door frame. "Not a chance" says the husband - "It's 3 o'clock in the morning!" He slams the door and returns to bed. "Who was it?" asks his wife. "Just some guy wanting a push" he answers. "Did you help him?" she asks. "No, I didn't - it's three in the morning and pouring down rain.” His wife said, “Remember the passage, where Jesus said, ‘Whatsoever you do to the least of these, you do to me.’” “I remember it,” the man said. “Well, that man must be having car trouble and needs a push, he’s the least of these. He is Jesus.” “But,” the husband said, “the man seems a little crazy." “Crazy, how?” she asks. “Scary crazy?” “No, not scary crazy. A few cards shy of a full deck crazy.” "Well, I think you should go,” she says. “You think I should go?” "That’s Jesus. Can't you remember about three months ago when we broke down on vacation and those two strangers helped us? I think you should help him." The man does as he is told and gets dressed and goes out into the pounding rain and calls out into the dark - "Hello, - are you still there?" "Yes," comes the answer. "Do you still want a push?" calls out the husband. "Yes, please!" comes the reply from the dark. "Where are you?" asks the husband. "Over here on the swing!" the man replies.

Kingdom vision

In Arthur Miller’s remarkable play, Death of a Salesman, Willy Loman, the tragic character who dominates the play, is laid to rest in a cemetery following his suicide. At the graveside on a bleak and rainy day, the immediate family is huddled together along with a couple of friends. His wife cries softly over the casket, “Why? Why? Why did you do it, Willy?” It is then that Willy’s son, Biff, speaks and says, “Aw, shucks, Mom. Aw, shucks. He had all the wrong dreams. He had all the wrong dreams.” (Tony Campolo)

Language: relationships: inadequate: not good at it: Romance silly

A young man who was going over to a girl’s house for his first date with her. He was a little nervous since he was going to visit and they weren’t going anywhere but to her front porch to sit and talk. He was worried that he wouldn’t think of anything to say so his father gave him some advice.

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“Son,” he said. “Begin talking about the glories of love. Women like it when a man can talk about love. Then talk about family. It lets her know that you are a responsible young man with visions of having your own family one day. Finally, talk about philosophy. Let her know that you have a broad mind that can explore the bigger picture of life in the world. Do those three things, talk about love, family and philosophy and you’ll make a big impression on her.” “Love, family and philosophy. Love, family and philosophy,” the boy repeated to himself as he walked to the girl’s house. He knocked on the door. The father opened it, which surprised the young boy and made him jump. The father didn’t say anything, just looked at him up and down. Then the girl came to the door. Eased her way around her father who closed the door slowly, never taking his eyes off the boy. The two sat on the front porch swing. The boy said to himself. ‘Love, family and philosophy.’ Then he turned his head toward the girl and said, “Love. Love is many splendid thing. Love. Love is a rose. Love. I love…” he started a sentence but couldn’t think of anything to say… “I love puppy dogs. I love puppy dogs! What about you? Do you love puppy dogs?” “Yes,” she said. “Of course. Who doesn’t love puppies?” “Wonderful,” said the boy. ‘Love, family… family! Talk about her family.’ “Do you have a family?” “Of course I have a family. Who doesn’t?” was her reply. “Do you have a brother?” the boy asked. “No, I don’t have a brother.” ‘No brother? Love, family, philosophy – philosophy? “If you…If you had…If you had a brother…would he love puppy dogs?”

Leadership, king, who is in charge?

In War and Peace Tolstoy raises a question about leadership. Napoleon is ravaging Europe and about to invade Russia. The questions Tolstoy raises is: Is the leader really a leader, or is he simply the one out in front on a wave? Napoleon lead a wave of energy from France. In a similar situation, a wave was rising in Israel, a wave that sought to raise Jesus to the top. They would thirty years later rise up and it led to the destruction of Jerusalem and the Temple. The devil promises him victory (which is really a lie – the devil couldn’t give it to him). It is a question Jesus would have to face, will I go with the rising tide to try and dominate or will I go against the tide? Jesus definitely stood up and refused to be who others wanted him to be. He was real. Barbara Brown Taylor said Jesus died because he would not stop being who he was and who he was was very upsetting. He turned everything upside down. He allied himself with the wrong people and insulted the right ones. He disobeyed the law. He challenged the authorities who warned him to stop. The government officials warned him to stop. The religious leaders warned him to stop. And when he would not stop, they had him killed, because he would not stop being who he was. At any point along the way, he could have avoided the cross… He could have stopped being who he was, but he did not. When the soldiers showed up in the garden to arrest him, he did not disappear into the dark. He stepped into the light of their torches and asked them whom they were looking for. “Jesus of Nazareth,” they answered him, and he said, “I am he.”

Letting go of baggage: being present, be still

God is not attained by a process of addition to anything in the soul, but by a process of subtraction. 85

Meister Eckhart

Meditation is not to escape from society, but to come back to ourselves and see what is going on. Once there is seeing, there must be acting. With mindfulness, we know what to do and what not to do to help. Thich Nhat Hanh

Only in quiet waters do things mirror themselves undistorted. Only in a quiet mind is adequate perception of the world. Hans Margolius

as a flower blown out by the wind goes to rest and cannot be defined so the wise man freed from individuality goes to rest and cannot be defined. gone beyond all images- gone beyond the power of words Sutra Nipata

As my prayer became more attentive and inward, I had less and less to say. I finally became completely silent. I started to listen –which is even further removed from speaking. I first thought that praying entailed speaking. I then learnt that praying is hearing, not merely being silent. This is how it is. To pray does not mean to listen to oneself speaking. Prayer involves becoming silent, and being silent, and waiting until God is heard. Soren Kierkegaard

Letting go of past pain

I read of a woman who had been injured in an accident which affected her short term memory. She would meet the doctor, he would leave. When he returned, she would meet him again as if for the first time. On the fourth meeting, the doctor put a tack in his hand. When he shook her hand, she felt pain. He left. When he returned later, she did not recognize him but would not shake his hand. She remembered the previous pain somewhere in her mind and that shaped the pattern and expectation. Past pain can shape our expectations and patterns. When my oldest daughter, Cayla, was about two years old, we were selling a car. The car was sitting in our driveway with a “For Sale” sign. About eight o’clock one night, someone drove by, saw the sign and decided to ask about the car. As the woman got out of her car and walked to our door, Pooh, our Labrador Retriever, then about three years old and with the eagerness and energy of a puppy but seventy pounds heavier, came around the side of 86 the house to greet our guest. Unfortunately, the woman didn’t speak non verbal dog and wrongly interpreted Pooh’s hello as, “I’m going to eat you.” Inside, we heard the doorbell ring, then the screaming, the loud, continuous screaming, began. I went to the door. I cautiously opened it. I saw the situation, opened the glass door and said, “Let her come in” meaning the dog. The screaming woman jumped in the house and even though the dog was now outside, the woman was still screaming. This terrified two year old Cayla. For six weeks after that incident, every time the doorbell rang, Cayla screamed and ran to her mother. She was patterned by her pain. She still seems to show an aversion to used cars. Our attachment to our past, whether trying to recreate pleasure or avoid pain, can keep us in a sleeping state unaware and unawake to the present moment. J. Krishnamurti wrote… What is pleasure? How does it come about? You see a sunset, and seeing it gives you great delight. You experience it… and that experience leaves a memory of pleasure, and tomorrow you will want that pleasure repeated…this repetition takes place, as you can observe, when thought thinks about it and gives it vitality and continuity. It is the same with sex, the same with other forms of physical and psychological pleasure. Thought creates the image of that pleasure and keeps on thinking about it…

I spoke at a women’s group lunch meeting for several churches in the county. During my talk, I noticed a woman down front smiling at me. I did not receive the smile well. “Why is she smiling?” I asked myself. “I don’t care if she’s smiling,” I thought, “I don’t like her.” What is amazing to me about preachers is, even during the middle of a speech, while we are talking, we can have internal conversations. “Why is she yawning? Am I boring? I hope not. Maybe she just stayed out late last night.” What’s even more amazing is that while we are giving a speech on the love of God, we can have an internal conversation about someone we don’t like. I was having one of those about this woman. She was smiling, but I didn’t like her. I didn’t know why I didn’t like her, I just didn’t. After I finished speaking, during the luncheon, I saw her in line. I fell back and waited for her to get her food before I approached the buffet. After I got my food, I avoided where she was sitting. I wondered why I had such strong negative feelings about a person I had never met. On my way home, I thought about this woman. I answered my own question. She reminded me of a woman in my first church who I thought questioned and disapproved of every idea I had. I had mentally placed a past frustration on this woman. A different person, but because she reminded me of some pain I had from my past, I avoided her and lost focus on my speech and my lunch. Often, when we are with someone, we are anything but present. There is a Buddhist teaching that says we never experience the present moment, only the past. Because our minds are so full from all our images formed in our yesterdays, we have no todays. Instead of being with people we encounter, we bring past images which have little to do with the person and address those and only those. What events from your past are shaping your life’s present? Would your life be better if you let go of them? Try this week to let go of the past and live in the present. When you are with someone, be with them. In each moment, be present.

Letting Go: One art to master:

One Art Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn't hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster. 87

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster of lost door keys, the hour badly spent. The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster: places, and names, and where it was you meant to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or next-to-last, of three loved houses went. The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster, some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent. I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident the art of losing's not too hard to master though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

Life: Organic, life like farm, contribution not competition

Four young men sit by the bedside of their dying father. The old man, with his last breath, tells them there is a huge treasure buried in the family fields. The sons crowd around him crying, “Where, where?” but it is too late. The day after the funeral and for many days to come, the young men go out with their picks and shovels and turn the soil, digging deeply into the ground from one end of each field to the other. They find nothing and, bitterly disappointed, abandon the search. The next season the farm has its best harvest ever. Jonas Salk said, "If all the insects were to disappear from the earth, within 50 years all life on Earth would end. (Insects are part of the circle of life, pollinating and cross pollinating. But hear this,) If all human beings disappeared from the earth, within 50 years all forms of life would flourish." And he's right.

Love – the greatest need

Johann Wolfgang Goethe was the last of the so-called universal human beings. I mean by that, he was one of the last of our western civilization to have gained the mastery of every academic discipline. In his long life, he became renowned as a poet, as an artist, as a musician, as a playwright and historian. There was hardly a single facet of human knowledge of which he did not have a tremendous grasp. As he lay dying in 1832, the story is that he suddenly sat up, bolted upright in bed, and cried out with great poignancy, "Light, light, more light." One of his biographers said that this was a fitting climax to this particular individual's life because his whole existence had been dedicated to learning more, to pushing back the parameters of darkness. He died as he lived, wanting to learn more and more.

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Many decades later Miguel Unamuno, the great Spanish philosopher, was reading a biography of Goethe and when he came to the death-bed scene, he allegedly read out loud to his wife what I have just described. Then he closed the book and said very thoughtfully, "You know for all his brilliance, Goethe was mistaken. Instead of crying for light, light, more light, what he should have asked for was warmth, warmth, more warmth, for human beings do not die of the darkness; they die of the cold." Leslie Weatherhead was an air raid warden during the terrible days of the London blitz back in the early 1940's. When the all-clear sounded, it was his job to go and to survey the damage. One night there had been a particularly heavy bombing. When he went back to the surface, all he could see was smoldering ruins. As he walked, he suddenly heard the sound of a child's voice crying. He went around some ruins and there to his amazement, he saw an eight-year-old boy sitting and sobbing on what had been a building. Somehow the child had gotten lost trying to get to the air raid shelter and had managed to survive by staying on the surface. Weatherhead went up to the little lad and said, "Where do you live, son? Where is home?" The child pointed to a street where there was nothing left but rubble. He said, "Where are your parents, your mother and father?" The little boy said, "My father is in the navy. He is overseas. My mother was killed two nights ago." He said, "Where is the rest of your family, uncles, aunts, brothers and sisters?" The child shook his head and said, "They are all gone. They have all been killed." At that point, Leslie Weatherhead stooped over and got eye level to the little fellow and said, "Tell me, son, tell me, who are you?" With that the little boy began to cry even more compulsively and then he said through his tears, "Mister, I ain't nobody's nothin'. I ain't nobody's nothin'." Leslie Weatherhead said that if he lived to be a hundred, he didn't think he would ever forget the poignancy of that sight -- a little boy sitting in the midst of chaos, feeling he was unconnected, unimportant to anybody else in the world. That condition is a terrible denial of one of the constituent needs of our human nature. We need to be loved; we need to be cared for; we need to know that what happens to us makes a difference to someone else. Therefore, Unamuno was right. We humans do die of the cold. We die when that love that is so necessary is lacking.

Love and community: Key ingredients for healthier life

Author Malcolm Gladwell tells this story in his book, Outliers. Stewart Wolf was a physician. He studied digestion and the stomach, and taught in the medical school at the University of Oklahoma. He spent summers at a farm he'd bought in Pennsylvania. His house was not far from a nearby community of Roseto. Once when he was in Pennsylvania for the summer, he was asked to give a talk at the local medical society. After the talk was over, one of the local doctors invited him to have a beer. And while they were having a drink he said, ‘You know, I've been practicing medicine for seventeen years. I get patients from all over, and I rarely find anyone from Roseto under the age of sixty-five with heart disease.'" This was the 1950's, years before the advent of cholesterol lowering drugs, and aggressive prevention of heart disease. Heart attacks were an epidemic in the United States. They were the leading cause of death in men under the age of sixty-five. It was impossible to be a doctor, common sense said, and not see heart disease. Wolf was a man of deep curiosity. If there were no heart attacks in Roseto, he wanted to find out why.

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Wolf approached the mayor of Roseto and told him that his town represented a medical mystery. He enlisted the support of some of his students and colleagues from Oklahoma. They poured over the death certificates from residents of the town, going back as many years as they could. They analyzed physicians' records. They took medical histories, and constructed family genealogies. The results were astonishing. In Roseto, virtually no one under 55 died of a heart attack, or showed any signs of heart disease. For men over 65, the death rate from heart disease in Roseto was roughly half that of the United States as a whole. The death rate from all causes in Roseto, in fact, was something like thirty or thirty-five percent lower than it should have been. Almost all the residents were from Italy. Wolf's first thought was that the Rosetans must have held on to some dietary practices from the old world that left them healthier than other Americans. But he quickly realized that wasn't true. The Rosetans were cooking with lard, instead of the much healthier olive oil they used back in Italy. Pizza in Italy was a thin crust with salt, oil, and perhaps some tomatoes, anchovies or onions. Pizza in Pennsylvania was bread dough plus sausage, pepperoni, salami, ham and sometimes eggs. Sweets like biscotti and taralli used to be reserved for Christmas and Easter; now they were eaten all year round. When Wolf had dieticians analyze the typical Rosetan's eating habits, he found that a whopping 41 percent of their calories came from fat. Nor was this a town where people got up at dawn to do yoga and run a brisk six miles. The Pennsylvanian Rosetans smoked heavily, and many were struggling with obesity. If it wasn't diet and exercise, then, genetics? No. He then looked at the region where the Rosetans lived. Was it possible that there was something about living in the foothills of Eastern Pennsylvania that was good for your health? No. What Wolf slowly realized was that the secret of Roseto wasn't diet or exercise or genes or the region where Roseto was situated. It was the relationships. The Rosetans visited each other, stopping to chat with each other in Italian on the street, or cooking for each other in their backyards. Family clans underlayed the town's social structure. Many homes had three generations living under one roof, and respect grandparents got tremendous amounts of respect. They went to Mass at Our Lady of Mt. Carmel Church. They were unified through their church. There was an egalitarian ethos of the town, that discouraged the wealthy from flaunting their success and helped the unsuccessful obscure their failures. In the parable, in Rosetto, Pennsylvania, and here, those who are healthy, truly wealthy, and wise, live in relationship. The greatest things in life aren’t things, the greatest thing is loving and being loved, the greatest things in your life are your relationships.

Love gives value not recognizes value, Victor the janitor

The story of Victor 24 Not very many years ago a young woman gave birth to her first child just one month after her husband died in a tragic accident. The neighbors, who were deeply concerned over the plight of the poor young widow, held a shower for the baby. Each person brought a beautiful present to help the mother and child get started in life. Mrs. Binz, who lived across the street, brought a small crib. “All three of my children slept in that very bed,” she said proudly. “But it’s yours now.” The neighbor to the south said, “I have managed to find all these baby clothes on sale. I think your child will like them.”

24 Note: This parable, "The Story of Victor," is by William R. White from his book: Stories For Telling (Augsburg Publishing, Minneapolis, © 1986) pp. 37-41. His inspiration came from "Augustus," a story by Herman Hesse. 90

Some of the friends brought meat, potatoes, or other kinds of food for the pantry. When all of the gifts were opened, the mother wept. “Thank you for your wonderful support,” she said, brushing back her tears. “You have made a most difficult time much easier.” She paused before she concluded, “Next Sunday my son will be baptized. I have decided to name him Victor after his father.” After all of the guests had left and the young widow was putting things away, she heard a knock on the door. She opened it to find an old man who lived in the corner house by himself. He was quite short in stature, wore glasses, and had tousled white hair. Everyone called him Doc Burns, though he didn’t seem to be a doctor in any normal sense. Few people had ever talked to the reclusive old man, though he often waved at the widow as she walked past his home. “I have come to give you my gift for your young son,” he said softly. Mine is a different kind of gift than the others you have received. I have come to offer you one wish for young Victor. It may be anything that you want for him, but you must make the wish before the child is baptized on Sunday.” He paused a moment and then continued, “Please believe that I have the power to give you whatever you desire for your beautiful son.” Having concluded, the little man bowed and walked back to his house on the corner. The young mother was baffled by the words of her strange little friend. Did he really have the power to grant a wish? What should she ask for? All week long she could not make up her mind. Finally, as they walked forward to the baptismal font, she whispered in the infants ear, “I wish that everyone in the world will love my Victor.” It was the greatest wish she could hope for her son. And lo and behold, the wish came true. Victor grew up to be a handsome lad with jet black hair and gleaming white teeth. As a toddler, people could not resist hugging and touching him. Even when he was naughty, no one could believe that he had done anything wrong. As he grew older, Victor became known and loved throughout the village. He was always given food and toys by other children. If his mother scolded or punished him, the adults would insist that she was being too harsh to such a wonderful child. Victor responded to all this attention by treating people with scorn and contempt. That didn’t seem to matter, for they still seemed to adore him. As the years passed, even when Victor had trouble at home, he maintained a deep respect for Doc Burns; there was something almost mystical about him. He often visited the old man and listened to his advice carefully. Doc was the only person who could reprimand Victor without the boy becoming angry or sullen. When Victor graduated from high school, he was given a scholarship to a college in the east. At Christmas, when he returned home for the first time, he drove up in a beautiful, black Cadillac. His suitcases were filled with fine clothes, and he always had plenty of spending money. He seldom saw his mother during the vacation. He spent his nights out drinking at parties and taverns. After college, Victor never worked but continued to live a life of ease. “I collect horses, dogs, and women,” he often bragged. There was no pleasure he did not indulge in, and there was no vice he did not experience. None of his relationships were permanent. Even though his many girlfriends smothered him with attention and friends raved about him, his heart grew empty and his soul became sick. He despised the people who catered to him. He was disgusted with everything and everyone. One night, alone in his apartment, Victor decided to end his life. He withdrew to his bedroom where he mixed a powerful poison in a glass of wine and lifted it to his lips. Just as he was about to drink it, Doc Burns rushed through the door and took the glass out of his hands, “Good evening. Victor. It has been a long time since we have had a chance to talk,” the old man said softly. Victor asked to be left alone, but Doc Burns ignored his pleas. “You seem to be dissatisfied with your life of frivolity,” the old man said. “I am sorry it has been such a meaningless existence for you. I suppose I am the one responsible for your misery. I fulfilled your mothers wish on the day of your Baptism, even though it was a foolish one. Suppose I now offer you a new wish? Make it anything you

91 want, and I will fulfill it. But be careful, Victor,” the old man concluded. “Wishes have a way of coming true.” “I don’t think you can give me anything that I haven’t already had.” Victor said sadly. “Think again, my son,” Doc Burns said earnestly, peering into the young man’s eyes. “Think of something that has given you true happiness in your short life. Make another wish for my sake, and for the sake of your dear mother.” Victor closed his eyes and thought for several minutes. Finally he spoke through his tears, “Take away the old wish and give me a new one. Rather than being loved, I ask for the ability to love everyone in the world.” “That is good,” Doc Burns said, embracing the sobbing young man. “Now things will go better for you.” Things did go better for Victor, but not immediately. He began to notice that people did not admire him or faun over him as before. Without his great charm, he began to be abandoned by his friends. Several people retaliated for the past wrongs he had inflicted on them. Once, he was thrown into jail for three months, and no one even came to visit him. When he was released, he was sick, lonely, and penniless. He returned home to nurse his ailing mother. For the first time in his life he was able to return her great love. After his mother’s recovery, Victor took a job as a janitor in an elementary school. He not only cleaned the floors and rest rooms, but he cared for the children as well—particularly the more disadvantaged ones. To all the children he became Mr. Victor, their father, friend and counselor. In the course of the following year, he met a beautiful young widow who had two small children. They married, and he gave all three of them the love that they so desperately needed. Poor in money, Victor now felt that he was the richest man in all the world, for he had discovered that it is in loving, not being loved, that life offers its greatest fulfillment

Unity gives power, quail face hunters net by uniting and flying away, discord and lose mission and all perish, competition over contribution leads to destruction, rumors, talk about instead of talking to

Imagine… a great flock of quail lived together in the forest. Food was plentiful and life was peaceful. One day a crafty hunter, who could imitate their song perfectly, came to the forest. When he whistled, a great group of quail gathered in response. When the flock landed on the ground, the hunter approached silently and threw a huge net over them. With a hearty laugh, he slung the net over his shoulder and took the quail to market. Each day he played his trick, and the flock grew smaller and smaller. After some time, the wisest old quail assembled what was left of the flock and said, “The hunter is skilled and can easily trick you into his net. If you work together, he cannot defeat you. Beat your wings as one, and you will leave the net that binds you.” The flock listened carefully to the old quail’s words. The next time the hunter came and threw his net over a group of quail, they were not dismayed. As one, they beat their wings. They rose, taking the net with them. They swooped down onto a tree. As the net caught and snagged in the tree’s branches, the birds flew out from under it to freedom. The hunter looked up in amazement and thought, “When the birds cooperate, I cannot capture them. Each bird is small and yet together they can lift the net!” (The next day the hunter snuck up on a couple of the birds. This is what he whispered to them, “You are right.” Then he went to another couple of birds, “You are right.” He went from birds to birds whispering, “You are right.” 92

Then, when they gathered as a group, the hunter again flung his net over a large group of quail as they pecked seeds on the ground. Pleased with their mighty accomplishment of the day before, the quail began to beat their wings together. (But this time one bird yelled out, “Fly to the left.” To which another bird responded, “No, to the right.” Then another yelled out, “No! Fly forward.” “No, back the other way!” They yelled at each other and pulled in different directions. Of course, pulling in different directions, they went nowhere until they finally were all exhausted and could fly no more. They fell to the ground. The hunter scooped up the net and took them all to town.) As he scooped up his net he proclaimed, “I’m the winner! Together they’re strong. Divided they’re dinner.”25

Love Languages: Marriage

Translations from Wife Speak – the wife will speak and the husband will translate: "I don't know what you're talking about." She knows exactly what you're talking about. "Me? Angry?" She. Angry. "I don't want to talk about it." Bring me flowers. "I don't even want to discuss it." Bring me a diamond bracelet. "Men!" You. "I've been thinking ..." She's been brooding. "It isn't what you said, it's the way you said it." It isn't the way you said it, it's what you said.

Translations from Husband Speak – the husband will speak and the wife will translate: "There's not one clean shirt." He's looking in the underwear drawer. "I don't know what you're talking about." He knows what you're talking about, but he doesn't know what you're saying about what you're talking about. "Me? Angry?" He. Angry. "I don't want to talk about it." He doesn't want you to talk about it anymore. Please. "The subject is closed." He'll bring you some flowers.

25 From ‘Wisdom Ta l e s ’ by Heather Forest

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"Let's just forget all about it." He'll bring you some flowers, and you remember it and he'll forget all about it.

Rev. Gary Chapman in his book, The Five Languages of Love, doesn’t assert that men and women speak different languages but that all of us have different ways of saying I love you. He asserts that in love there are five different languages for saying to others, spouses, children, friends, “I love you.” 1. Love Language #1 is Saying Words of Affirmation A farmer's wife cuddled up next to him on the couch. He was deep into his television program. "Honey," she said. "Why don't you ever tell me that you love me?" Without taking his eyes off the television, the farmer asked, "How long have we been married?" "Twenty two years," was her reply. "Do you remember on our wedding day when I told you that I loved you." "Yes," she said with a smile. "Well," said the farmer, "if I ever change my mind, I'll let you know." That farmer was not skilled in love language #1. Love language #1, saying words of affirmation, recognizes that our words have power. When you were young, you heard, “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.” No matter how often you repeated that to yourself, you found that words could hurt. In love language #1 Saying Words of Affirmation, we recognize that words have power to not only hurt but to heal, support, build up, and nurture. Mark Twain stated, “I can live for two months on a good compliment.” In the book of Proverbs we read, “The tongue has the power of life and death.” “An anxious heart weighs a person down, but a kind word cheers him up.” Love language #1 is saying I love you through words of affirmation, affection, encouragement – positive words that build up. 2. Love Language #2 is Sharing Quality Time Quality time, to the farmers dismay, is not sitting on the couch watching the same television program. Better is to sit on the couch face each other listening and sharing, with the t.v. off. I can tell you that quality time must be intentional. You may have to put it on the calendar. You will have to make it a priority. Abbie, for some reason, is no longer sleeping through the night. About all the quality we have left after getting the girls to bed is to look at each other on the couch and grunt, but whatever you have, you have to give it. Love Language #2 is saying “I love you” through sharing of quality time. 3. Love Language #3 Giving Gifts Chapman says “gifts are visible symbols of love. Just as you gave symbols of love in the exchange of rings on your wedding day, you need to continue in the symbolic through giving more symbols of love.” Once a missionary teacher in an African village was worried about one of her pupils. He had been absent for two days in a row. He walked in later that school day, all dirty, and with a big smile on his face. In a small jar he handed her a gift. It was a jar full of sand from the by the sea with a sea shell on top. It would have taken him a full day to walk to the sea. The teacher took the jar from him and said, "Thank you for the beautiful present. But why did you travel so far." "The journey," replied her student, "is part of the gift." The third language of love is saying, “I love you” through giving of thoughtful gifts as symbols of love. 4. The fourth language of love is Acts of Service 94

When I was young, my mother would ask, “Would you like to take out the garbage?” I would say, “No.” She would be mad at me. She asked, I protested, “Would I like to” the answer to which was no. I would not like to. I would but I wouldn’t like it. Acts of service is looking for, planning, and doin those small to large duties. Chapman says, “Such actions as cooking a meal, setting a table, washing dishes, vacuuming, cleaning a commode, getting hairs out of the sink, getting bugs off the windshield (and) taking out the garbage…are all acts of service. They require thought, planning, time, effort, and energy. If done with a positive spirit, they are indeed expressions of love.” The fourth language of love is saying, “I love you” through acts of service. 5. The fifth Language of Love is Physical Touch We all know that babies who are held have a healthier emotional life than those who are left alone for long periods of time without physical contact. We all need physical contact. I can see the need for physical contact in Abbie, she may have had a day when she has gotten plenty of attention, people smiling at her, talking to her and playing with her. But if she spent most of her time in her chair, at some point during the day, she will fuss and fuss until you hold her. She has a need for physical touch just like she has a need for food. We all need physical touch. The fifth language of love is saying, “I love you” through physical touch. Those are Chapman’s five love languages: 1. Words of Affirmation 2. Quality Time 3. Receiving Gifts 4. Acts of Service 5. Physical Touch

Love, value giving, adoption, baptism, God’s love, Addie Blair handicap adoption

In the early 1960’s, Addie Blair was working at an adoption agency. The first time she saw Freddie, he gave her a toothy smile. “What a beautiful baby,” was her first thought. Then she noticed that Freddie was born without any arms. The nurse that was with Freddie said to her, “He’s so smart. He’s only ten months old and already he walks and talks.” She kissed him. “Say ‘book’ for Mrs. Blair.” Freddie grinned at her and head his head on the nurse’s shoulder. “Such a good boy,” the nurse said. “You won’t forget him, will you Mrs. Blair? You’ll find a home for him, won’t you?” “I’ll do my best.” She went upstairs and got out her latest copy of the Hard to Place list. “He’s ready for adoption,” she thought, “but who’s ready for him?” Many couples passed through the adoption agency: couples having interviews, meeting babies, families with new beginnings. These couples always had the same dream: they want a child as much like themselves as possible, as young as possible, and most important – a child with no health or medical problems. “If he or she develops one later, that will be fine, but to start out with one is too much.” And who can blame them? Summer slipped into fall, Freddie was still with them after his first birthday. Addie went to see a prospective family to do a home study. They were Frances and Edwin Pearson. She was 41. He was 45. She was a housewife. He was a truck driver. They lived in a tiny white framed house in a big yard full of sun and old trees. They greeted Addie together at the door, eager and scared to death. Mrs. Pearson produced steaming coffee and oven-warm cookies. They sat together on the sofa, and Mrs. Pearson began, “Today is our anniversary. We’ve been together eighteen years.” 95

“Good years,” he added, “except…” “Too neat. You know?” Addie thought of her own living room with her three children and nodded her head. “Perhaps we are too old,” Mrs. Pearson said. “You don’t think so,” said Addie, “and we don’t either.” “We’ve been waiting a long time,” Mr. Pearson said. “Examinations and tests. Over and over. We keep on hoping and hoping, and time keeps slipping by.” “We’ve tried to adopt like this before,” Mrs. Pearson said, “but a friend told us about your agency and we decided to make one last try.” “I’m glad you did,” said Addie. “Can we choose at all,” Mrs. Pearson asked, “a boy for my husband?” “We’ll try for a boy,” Addie said. “What kind of boy?” Mrs. Pearson laughed, “How many kinds are there? Just a boy. My husband is very athletic. He played football in high school; basketball, too, and track. He would be good for a boy.” “I know you can’t tell us exactly, but how long do you think it will take.” “Maybe by next summer?” Mrs. Pearson added. “Maybe we could take him to the beach.” “That long?” asked Mr. Pearson. “Don’t you have anyone at all. There must be a boy somewhere. Of course we can’t give him as much as other people. We haven’t got a lot of money saved up.” “We’ve got a lot of love,” his wife said, “we’ve saved a lot of that.” “Well,” said Addie, “there is a little boy. He is 13 months old.” “Oh, a beautiful age,” said Mrs. Pearson. “I have a picture of him,” Addie said as she pulled it from her brief case. “He’s a wonderful little boy, but he was born without any arms.” The room was silent as the couple looked at the picture and then at each other. “What do you think, Fran.” “Kickball,” she said. “You could teach him kickball.” “Awe, athletics aren’t so important. He can learn to use his head. Arms he can do without. A head, never. He can go to college. We’ll save for it.” “A boy is a boy,” Mrs. Pearson said, “he needs to play. You can teach him.” “I’ll teach him. Arms aren’t everything. Maybe we can get him some.” “Then you’d like to see him?” Addie asked. They looked up at her. “When can we have him?” “You think you might want him?” Mrs. Pearson looked at Addie in disbelief. “Might? Might? We want him. We know we want him.” She looked at the picture again, “You’ve been waiting for us, haven’t you?” “His name is Freddie. But you can change it.” “Freddie Pearson. It sounds good together,” Mr. Pearson said. By the time they formalities were finished, it was Christmas. The new parents went to the agency to meet their son. “I’ve got butterflies,” Mrs. Pearson said, “suppose he doesn’t like us.” Freddie said goodbye to his house parent, “Going home,” he kept saying down the hall. Addie got to the door and put Freddie down on his feet. She opened the door to the waiting room. “Merry Christmas,” she said. The Pearsons looked at their new son. Mr. Pearson got down on one knee and said, “Freddie, come here. Come to Daddy. Freddie looked back at Addie for a moment and slowly walked toward them. They reached their arms wide and took him in.

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Love: Choice

If Thou Must Love Me by Elizabeth Barrett Browning If thou must love me, let it be for naught Except for love’s sake only. Do not say ”I love her for her smile. . . her look. . . her way Of speaking gently.. .for a trick of thought That falls in well with mine, and certes brought A sense of pleasant ease on such a day” For these things in themselves, Belovéd, may Be changed, or change for thee, - and love, so wrought, May be unwrought so. Neither love me for Thine own dear pity’s wiping my cheeks dry, A creature might forget to weep, who bore Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby! But love me for love’s sake, that evermore Thou mayst love on, through love’s eternity.

Romans 8: For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received a spirit of adoption. When we cry, “Abba! Father!” 16 it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God, 17 and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ.

Last Fragment by Raymond Carver And did you get what you wanted from this life, even so? I did. And what did you want? To call myself beloved, to feel myself beloved on the earth.

Love: Levels of Communication

John Powell in Why Am I Afraid to Tell You Who I Am? presents the five levels of communication, which, he says, are like concentric circles--—from the most shallow and superficial level (outer circle) to the deepest, most intimate level (smallest circle at the core). Level five, the outer circle of superficiality, is the level he calls “cliché conversation.” On this level, we talk in clichés, such as: “How are you? . . . How is your family? . . . Where have you been?” We say things like: “I like your dress very much.” “I hope we can get together real soon.” “It’s really good to see you.” [Which might really mean, “We may not see each other for a year, and I’m not going to sweat it.”] . . . If the other party were to begin answering our question, “How are you?” in detail, we would be astounded. Usually and fortunately the other party senses the superficiality and conventionality of our concern and question, and obliges by simply giving the standard answer, “just fine, thank you.”2 That’s cliché communication. Tragically, that is the deepest many people choose to go. Level four is where we “report facts” about each other. We remain contented to tell others what so-and-so has said or done. We offer no personal, self-revelatory commentary on these facts, but simply report them.3 97

This is the realm of gossip and petty, meaningless little tales about others. Level three leads us into the area of ideas and judgments. Rarely do people communicate at this deeper level. They are able, but they’re not willing. As I communicate my ideas, etc., I will be watching you carefully. I want to test the temperature of the water before I leap in. I want to be sure that you accept me with my ideas, judgments, and decisions. If you raise your eyebrows or narrow your eyes, if you yawn or look at your watch, I will probably retreat to safer ground. I will run for the cover of silence, or change the subject of conversation.4 Because this begins to get below the “skating” level, those who go to the depths of ideas and judgments are quite courageous. Level two moves into “feelings.” If I really want you to know who I am, I must tell you about my stomach (gut-level) as well as my head. My ideas, judgments, and decisions are quite conventional. If I am a Republican or a Democrat by persuasion, I have a lot of company. If I am for or against space exploration, there will be others who will support me in my conviction. But the feelings that lie under my ideas, judgments and convictions are uniquely mine. . . It is these feelings, on this level of communication, which I must share with you, if I am to tell you who I really am.5 I would hazard a guess that less than 10 percent of us ever communicate on that “feeling” level. To my disappointment, I have discovered that husbands and wives can live for years under the same roof without reaching this level. Level one is the most personal, intimate form of communication. All deep and authentic friendships, and especially the union of those who are married, must be based on absolute openness and honesty. . . Among close friends or between partners in marriage there will come from time to time a complete emotional and personal communion.6

Love: Life is meant for relationship

Exodus 4: (The Lord) said, “What of your brother Aaron the Levite? I know that he can speak fluently; even now he is coming out to meet you, and when he sees you his heart will be glad. 15 You shall speak to him and put the words in his mouth; and I will be with your mouth and with his mouth, and will teach you what you shall do.

In the story of Moses, God describes God’s self in relationship terms. Joan Furman and David McNabb in The Dying Time note this about how God spoke to Moses.

…when God appeared to Moses in the burning bush, He did not say, “I am OZ, the Great and Powerful. Who are you and why are you here?” Instead, according to the biblical record, He described himself in terms of relationships: “I am the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.” That is the usual way that the idea of the Creator is presented through the Bible, in terms of emotional relationships to particular people or events.

In the Bible, God prescribed relationships. In Eden, God said, “It isn’t good for you to be alone…” and for Adam God prescribed Eve. Later in Genesis, God gave Abram and Sarai each other for their journey. And then in Exodus, God sent Aaron for Moses. God saw Moses’ need before he did. Moses needed help, company, companionship. And God picked Aaron. Moses was insecure, “I’m not good with words!” Aaron was. Though Aaron wasn’t the man to 98 know what to say, he knew how to say it. Though Aaron didn’t have a sense of God’s liberating call, he didn’t have a mouth of cotton in front of a crowd, or a pharaoh. Moses needed Aaron. God knew it. God knew it before Moses. Even as Moses was trying to slide out of God’s angelic assignment for him, Aaron was on the way with no clue what was ahead for either of them. Together they would go, counting on God, and each other, accomplishing more as a duo than either could on his own.

Love: Moment: Relationships with others change perceptions: Never bird’s song be same

Never Again Would Bird's Song Be The Same Robert Frost

He would declare and could himself believe That the birds there in all the garden round From having heard the daylong voice of Eve Had added to their own an oversound, Her tone of meaning but without the words. Admittedly an eloquence so soft Could only have had an influence on birds When call or laughter carried it aloft. Be that as may be, she was in their song. Moreover her voice upon their voices crossed Had now persisted in the woods so long That probably it never would be lost. Never again would birds' song be the same. And to do that to birds was why she came.

Those Who Love Sara Teasdale

Those who love the most, Do not talk of their love, Francesca, Guinevere, Deirdre, Iseult, Heloise, In the fragrant gardens of heaven Are silent, or speak if at all Of fragile inconsequent things.

And a woman I used to know Who loved one man from her youth, Against the strength of the fates Fighting in somber pride Never spoke of this thing, But hearing his name by chance, A light would pass over her face.

He Wishes For The Clothes of Heaven W.B. Yeats 99

Had I the heaven´s embroidered cloths Enwrought with golden and silver light The blue and the dim and the dark cloths of night and light and the half light I would spread the cloths under your feet But I, being poor, have only my dreams I have spread my dreams under your feet Tread softly because you tread on my dreams

Love: often drastic measures are needed to make connection

A young and successful executive was traveling down a neighborhood street, going a bit too fast in his new Jaguar. He was watching for kids darting out from between parked cars and slowed down when he thought he saw something. As his car passed, no children appeared. Instead, a brick smashed into the Jag's side door! He slammed on the brakes and spun the Jag back to the spot from where the brick had been thrown. He jumped out of the car, grabbed some kid and pushed him up against a parked car shouting, "What was that all about and who are you? Just what do you think you are doing?" Building up a head of steam, he went on. "That's a new car and that brick you threw is going to cost a lot of money. Why did you do it?" "Please, mister, please. I'm sorry, but I didn't know what else to do!" pleaded the youngster. "I threw the brick because no one else would stop." Tears were dripping down the boy's chin as he pointed around the parked car. "It's my brother," he said. "He rolled off the curb and fell out of his wheelchair and I can't lift him up." Sobbing, the boy asked the executive, "Would you please help me get him back into his wheelchair? He's hurt and he's too heavy for me." Moved beyond words, the driver tried to swallow the rapidly swelling lump in his throat. He lifted the young man back into the wheelchair and took out his handkerchief and wiped the scrapes and cuts, checking to see that everything was going to be okay. "Thank you and God bless you," the grateful child said to him. The man then watched the little boy push his brother down the sidewalk toward their home. It was a long walk back for the man to his Jaguar...a long, slow walk. He never did repair the side door. He kept the dent to remind him not to go through life so fast that someone has to throw a brick at you to get your attention.

Love: Power, Willard Waller

I love the name Willard Waller. You wonder what kind of people with the last name, Waller, would name a kid Willard. That's not the half of it. Willard Waller was born and raised in Walla Walla, Washington. But it was Willard Waller who set forth the principle of least interest. "In any relationship," he says, "whoever is exercising the most power, is exercising the least love. Whoever is exercising the most love, has the least power."

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I mean, consider a marriage. She loves him. She love him intensely. He doesn't love her. He doesn't love her. He doesn't care whether she stays or leaves. Question: Who is in a position to call the shots? Who has the power? Who is able to spell out the conditions of the relationship and of the marriage? Obviously, he does. His power is contingent on the fact that he doesn't love her very much. Love and power end up being diametrically opposed. It's the principle of least interest in sociology. Whoever loves the least, has the most power. Whoever loves the most, has the least power. This is why, in fact, that men are usually lousy lovers; because they're on power trips all the time, and it's very, very difficult to love and be playing power games at the same time. Men often have difficulty saying, "I love you," because the minute that they do, they know that their power relationships are diminished. Pay attention. This is Christmas. God, the omnipotent shows that true power gives up a useless attempt to control!

Someone that chooses weakness is in some ways stronger than we can imagine.

Love: Respect for all

One afternoon, as I sat in my office, the telephone rang. It was my mother. She told me that Mrs. Kirkpatrick had died and that the least I could do was to go to the funeral. My mother, like all Italians, was big on funerals. She felt that it was of enormous importance to show “respect” and honor the deceased with our presence. So, while I was growing up I attended more funerals than I can remember out of “respect.” However, in Mrs. Kirkpatrick’s case, it was more than respect that made me say yes to my mother’s request. Mrs. Kirkpatrick was a lovely lady, and as we were growing up she did many wonderful things for the children of our church. I could always count on her giving me candy at Christmastime. On one occasion she took me to a concert so that I could hear a symphony orchestra play. Mrs. Kirkpatrick had added much to my life, and my mother was right. Going to her funeral was the least I could do to show respect and appreciation. I arrived at the funeral home at two o’clock, just as the funeral was scheduled to begin. I rushed up the steps and hurried by the somber man at the door. There were several funerals in progress at the time. I walked into what I thought was the designated room for Mrs. Kirkpatrick’s funeral and quickly took a seat. I had done it so hurriedly, I failed to notice that, other than an elderly woman sitting two seats away from me, there was no one else in the entire room. I looked over the edge of the casket and he did not look like Mrs. Kirkpatrick! I had the wrong funeral! I was just about to leave when the woman reached over and grabbed me by the arm, and with desperation in her voice said, “You were his friend—weren’t you?” I didn’t know what to say. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the famous German martyr, once said, “There comes a time in every man’s life when he must lie with imagination, with vigor and with enthusiasm!” I don’t know whether you concur with Bonhoeffer, but just for the record, you should know that I lied. What else could I do? The woman was reaching out for assurance that somebody had some connection with her husband and some concern for her. What was I to say? “I’m sorry, I’m at the wrong funeral. Your husband didn’t have any friends.” She needed to know that there was somebody to whom her husband meant something. And so I lied and said I knew him, and that he was always kind to me. I went through the funeral sitting at her side. Afterward, the two of us went out and got into the sole automobile that would follow the hearse to the cemetery. I figured that since I had gone that far, I might as well go all the way. I wasn’t about to leave this poor old lady alone in her hour of deep sadness. We stood at the edge of the grave and said some prayers. As the casket was lowered into the grave, each of us threw a flower onto it. We then got back into the car and returned to the funeral home. As we arrived there, I took this elderly woman’s hand and said to her, “Mrs. King, I have to tell you something. I really did 101 not know your husband. I want to be your friend, and I can’t be your friend after today unless I tell you the truth. I did not know your husband. I came to the funeral by mistake.” I waited a long while wondering how she would respond. She took my hand and held it for what seemed an interminable moment, then answered, “You’ll never ever, ever know how much your being with me meant to me today.” I know there will be those who will say I should never have lied to this woman in the first place. But then, they weren’t there. I had a feeling at the end of that day that there was a voice within me, speaking to me and saying, “Well done, thou good and faithful servant!” (Tony Campolo)

Love: tolerance for pain needed to deepen relationships

3 layers of connection written by Michael Meade in the book The Rag and Bone Shop a poetry collection. The first layer of human connection he describes this way… The first layer is where we encounter people but don’t know them. …the First Layer of human interaction is the common ground of manners, kind speech, polite greeting, and working agreements… The First Layer is the immediate area of surface courtesies that make life in passing possible. Without this overlay, the simplest tasks of survival could not be accomplished. We reinforce the daily social world by the common greeting, "How are you?" followed by the appropriate First Layer answer, "Fine and the concluding, blessing, "Well, have a nice day." We need this layer, this layer of connection, for society to work. These relationships are cordial, they are nice, but very superficial. They are no deeper than a puddle. You can’t swim in a puddle, but in these relationships you don’t want to go swimming. The dance goes like this – I say, “How are you?” and you say, “Fine.” In this first layer of communication and connection, when you ask, “How are you?” All you want for a reply is, “Fine.” When you ask the clerk at the grocery store, “How are you?” You don’t want him to tell you how bad his feet hurt. You don’t want them to tell you what broke in the dairy row. You just want a cordial, “I’m good.” Certainly no response longer than, “A little tired.” Anything you can respond with a colloquial, “Sure,” “I understand,” “I’m with you!” But don’t tell me the truth. Don’t tell me how you really are… When you pick up the dry cleaning and say, “Hi, how are you?” You don’t want them to tell you. “My life is a shambles! My husband and I aren’t getting along. And my stomach hurts from some bad chili.” “Ooooh,” you would say, “that’s too bad. Can I have my shirts now?” Then you would go home and say, “Honey, guess what the gal at the drycleaners did. I asked, ‘How are you?’ and she had the nerve to tell me.” No. In the first layer of human connection, we only want superficial. It’s what we want and what we give. Even if you’ve had a terrible day, You may be feeling that if one more thing goes wrong, you'll begin pouring hot coffee over the feet of anyone who approaches you at all, but you answer, "Fine." We know that the decency of the First Layer must be kept intact most of the time, for the sake of social survival. That’s what keeps society working. These relationships are safe, simple, well defined. We can’t live in this first layer. It’s too cold.

The third layer of relationships is where you know and are known. It is Eden. It is Nirvana. Meade describes the The Third Layer is the area of deeply shared humanity, the universal brotherhood and sisterhood of all people, of the underlying, fundamental oneness of human love, 102 justice, and peaceful coexistence… This layer defines human relationships at their best. Marriage at its best. Family at its best. Friendship at its best. Church relationships at their best. When we think of the Third Layer we say things like, "all you need is love" and "love is all there is" (and) …all is "right with the world." According to Meade, if the third layer had bumper stickers are, "Visualize World Peace"… "Jesus Loves You" and "This Car Stops for Ducks." The Third Layer is where the unifying images of god exist, where prayers are answered, where healing mends the wounds of life, where peace becomes real and contagious. … In the clear skies and fresh air of the Third Layer we certainly forgive the insults, punishments, and injustices heaped upon us. Here at the depths a rare stream of humor cleanses the old wounds and makes our eyes bright for life. When we "fall in love," it's the ground of the Third Layer we fall upon. 26 That’s the third layer. Anyone who has been married, had a sibling, had a friend, been to church more than Sunday morning, knows that we don’t live in this third layer alone. Relationships aren’t always union, bliss, joy. There is often tension and struggle. Meade describes the second layer. He says it feels like walking into a neighborhood of as… the Via Negativa, the field of Conflict, the plain of Discord, the hills of Turmoil. If the second level was a fairy tale, The population of the Second Layer includes a high percentage of giants, hags, trolls, boxers, bears, street criminals, cops, vultures, gargoyles, streetwalkers, and outraged motorists. The sidewalks are cracked, the stores are closed, the lights don't work, and there is no one who'll listen to you. …the signs in the Second Layer say "Beware of the Dog,"27 "Get a Life…" The Second Layer says: "I can't take it anymore, I won't stand for it, I've had enough." The Second Layer sends postcards from Hell, greetings from the underworld: "How about a nice, special-delivery order of rage pie, a fillet of hatred, a salad of jealousy, a side of envy, a plate of wrath?" It is a stove that seethes with an adverse, acidic, acrid, avaricious, acrimonious, anger stew. It bubbles with feelings, emotions, and indelible attitudes we'd rather not have, wouldn't choose, and shouldn't express. The second level is a dark level. Painful level. not just hurt, but historical hurt, yesterday’s pain and tomorrow’s anxieties all live here. Meade’s point is, unless you are willing to experience the pain of the second level, you can’t know deeper relationships. When I can’t deal with the pain of Carrie, my wife, I don’t get to a deeper layer of connection. She may come to me and say, “I have a problem.” Rather than get in touch with her struggle, her pain, I try and fix it. Fixing it keeps us at the social interaction of relationship, it keeps me out of a world where my wife can have problems and it keeps me from knowing and being known. If she is spending a lot of time at the church and I want to spend more time with her, I might say in my lonliness, “You are so insensitive, you never think about me!” What I’m saying is, “I miss you!” Unless she can hear the pain, she can’t get closer to me but instead will run away and we stay at level 1. Again, imagine Peter and the disciples. They were fishermen. Their relationships were relatively simple. “Hungry? Here, have a fish.” Relationships on the first level are simple. Problem. Let me fix it. To go deeper in relationships, you have to be able to face problems you cannot fix.

Love: Two Types:

The word love is used in so many ways. I say, “I love ice cream. I love college basketball. I love a rainy night...”

26 Quotes are all Meade’s but I rearranged the order. 27 Removed Shit Happens," "Up Your day." 103 and I also say, “I love my wife. I love my children. I love God...” To say that I love ice cream, my children, and God” all in the same sentence or paragraph implies that those loves are the same or at least similar. They are not. Same four letters, same word, but different implications. Before I can advance the theme of this book, I must address this problem of the word love and the questions love brings. For example, how did Jesus understand love? Was Jesus thinking of my love for my wife, when he said, “Love thy neighbor?” Was Jesus thinking of my love of ice cream when he said, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength?” How did Jesus understand himself as loved by God? What do we mean when we say that God loved Jesus? When we say that God loves humanity or that God loves us? What do we mean in these contexts when we say, Love. Some languages have it easier. The Greeks have more than one word for love. They have eros, philio, agape. Those choices seem to have suited them well. Yet, to write in English, I haven’t found a lot of help in substituting Greek or any other unfamiliar words. To explore love in the mind of Jesus, in the psychology of Jesus, rather than new words for ‘love,’ I propose in Jesus that we see love in two forms, two types, two kinds which are both familiar and universal. Both types of love are full of wonder, joy, and excitement. Both forms can be puzzling, overwhelming and painful. Both kinds give life meaning and can make any day worth living. Yet, one, more than the other, can be found in God as described in the gospels and understood by Jesus. One, more than the other, is what shaped Jesus understanding of himself, served as the foundation for what he taught, and defined the norms with which he treated others. One, more than the other, is found at the center of the psychology of Jesus.3

Love type #1: Value Recognizing Love

Value recognizing love is a beautiful type of love. When we ‘fall in love,’ we are experiencing value recognizing love. We love what we see in another. This love marks, observes, notes, appreciates, and celebrates value. As the saying goes, “Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.” This love appreciates what it beholds as worthwhile and valuable. To someone you love, you may say, “You are so beautiful.” “You are so strong.” “You are so smart.” In doing so, we show our appreciation for the person’s beauty, strength, and intelligence. We say words that all of us want to hear, “I find value in you! I love you because of who you are.” Value recognizing love can lift the spirits, give connection, foster joy and happiness, and affirm identity. For this love, value = good feelings. Sports Fans show value recognizing love. When a football team wins, people show up at the airport to welcome them home. “You are so amazing! You’re the greatest! We love you! Yeah!” Winning feels great for players and fans alike. However, when the football team loses, and loses repeatedly, the fans don’t come. They don’t see value. No one shows up at the airport and says, “You are so average! You are actually less than par! We love you!” When you lose, there is no love because there is no achievement therefore no value to be recognized. In value recognizing love, perceived value leads to appreciation, lack of value produces no appreciation. No value = no feelings or bad feelings. So, while value recognizing love can be a very wonderful sort of love, it can also be a very painful sort of love. In marriages, or in any longer term relationships, there can come a time when value recognizing love no longer perceives any value. Those who once proclaimed appreciation, approval and admiration, become quiet – or worse. They become negative. “You used to be so... this and that... now you are just ...neither this nor that. You’re not the same person I fell in love with. You changed. You’re different.” This essentially means, “I saw value. Now I see none.” Or, perhaps even more painfully, “I don’t know why I loved you in the first place.” Sooner or later, lives built on value recognizing love alone, bring us pain. In our insecurity, we go from person to person, relationship to relationship, asking, “Do you find any value in me? Do you like me?” terrified that our significant others, our mirrors for forming our sense of self worth don’t see value, we ache. Lives lived in search of value recognizing love alone are tragic. Elizabeth KublerRoss summed up life under value recognizing love when she wrote, Most of us have been raised as prostitutes. I will love you “if.” And this word 104

“if” has ruined or destroyed more lives than anything else on this planet earth. It prostitutes us; it makes us feel that we can buy love with good behavior, or good grades... If we were not able to accommodate the grown-ups, we were punished...4 Fortunately, there is another type of love.

Love Type #2: Value Giving Love

Value giving love doesn’t recognize value, it gives value. It doesn’t require; it offers. It doesn’t demand; it empowers. Value giving love is the type of love Jesus believed he saw in God. This type of love is the love Jesus founded his ministry and his life on. This type of love Jesus trusted in and offered to others. To understand this love, we must do more than study the life of Jesus, we must do more than ponder the teachings of Jesus, we must do more than believe in Jesus. To understand this love, I believe, we must see ourselves as Jesus. For many of us, imagining ourselves as Jesus is not an easy task as Scott Peck related, Not long ago I participated in a conference of Christian therapists and counselors, where the speaker, Harvey Cox, a Baptist theologian, told the Gospel story of Jesus being called to resuscitate the daughter of a wealthy Roman. As Jesus is going to the Roman’s house, a woman who has been hemorrhaging for years reaches out from the crowd and touches His robe. He feels her touch and turns around and asks, “Who touched me?” The woman comes forward and begs Him to cure her and He does, and then goes on to the house of the Roman whose daughter had died. After telling the story, Cox asked this audience of six hundred mostly Christian professionals whom they identified with. When he asked who identified with the bleeding woman, about a hundred raised their hands. When he asked who identified with the anxious Roman father, more of the rest raised their hands. When he asked who identified with the curious crowd, most raised their hands. But when he asked who identified with Jesus, only six people raised their hands. Something is very wrong here. Of six hundred more or less professional Christians, only one out of a hundred identified with Jesus. Maybe more actually did but were afraid to raise their hands lest that seem arrogant. But again something is wrong with our concept of Christianity if it seems arrogant to identify with Jesus. That is exactly what we are supposed to do! We’re supposed to identify with Jesus, act like Jesus, be like Jesus. That is what Christianity is supposed to be about the imitation of Christ.5 In numerous places throughout the book, I will ask you as I have already to imagine you are a character from the gospel text. On several occasions, as here, I will ask you to imagine you are Jesus. These exercises are crucial to understand the Psychology of Jesus, especially in this chapter. Jesus lived his life, saw others, was able to love, risk, try, grow, reach, do all because he lived under this second type of love. To understand this value giving love, we must put ourselves into the story of Jesus. To understand the psychology of Jesus, how he thought of himself and how he approached others, we must imagine ourselves as Jesus. We must be Jesus. Andrew Greely in his Christmas tale Star Bright explained all this in the character Odessa, from Russia, who said, “It was said by the very old peasants in my country – and now it is said again – that on some very special Christmas nights Mary and Joseph and the Child come back to earth. There is snow on the ground and the nights are cold but not too cold. The blanket of stars in the sky is like a blanket of spring flowers. The angels and the shepherds and shepherds’ children and the twelve wise men come with them.” “Twelve?” Dad asked. “I thought there were only three.” “We Russians know better...It is also said that when men and women of faith who know where the cave is enter it to gaze on the Child, they see something truly amazing.” “What’s that?” “They see that the face of the Child is their own face. Then they realize, they are the beloved Child! Is that not wondrous! ”6 Jesus’ baptism is the doorway to answering “Who am I?” So, before we can go any further, imagine you 105 are Jesus on the day of your baptism. Let me give you some background. Some of this I am speculating, but most comes from what we know of Jesus from the gospels. Imagine you are walking with the crowd toward the Jordan River. You know this is the first step for you in beginning what you believe God is calling you to do. You have waited for a long time for this. As the oldest child in the family, you stayed home to help raise your brothers and sisters. You worked as a carpenter, helping the family by making what money you could. Now that your siblings are old enough to take care of themselves, you start to follow the calling you received from your heavenly father. This begins at the Jordan River... What others think of you is in the air. Some have heard John speak of you, though he didn’t mention your name. John said many things about your coming, your purpose... John said many things. There were whisperings in the crowd. You hear them as you move forward, but you know those things have more to do with the speaker than the one spoken about. There is another voice you long to hear. You walk to the water. John says he should be baptized by you, you tell him this is part of a greater purpose. You know you are there for another voice. Another voice you had heard before. You go under the water as John pushes down. You rise up. You feel the Spirit of God descend like a dove. A voice speaks, “You are my child. Beloved.” Yes. That was the voice you were listening for... Now a new day begins. In Jesus we find good news for all about God’s type of love. Jesus heard the voice of God not at the end of his ministry, but at the beginning, before he healed anyone, before he taught anyone, before he did – anything! He didn’t do great things so that he would be loved. Jesus did great things because he understood he was loved. The love which declared his value gave him the freedom to grow, to question, to reach, to think, to feel, to believe, to care, and most of all, to love. If we see ourselves as Jesus, then we will understand the baptism story of Jesus in scripture belongs not just to Jesus, but to all of us as God says to us for the entire world to hear, “You are my child, my beloved.” If we see ourselves as Jesus, then we can claim God’s declaration of Jesus as the declaration of us, we are God’s children, beloved. If we can see ourselves as Jesus, we understand that “beloved” is a label that comes from God, is as set in stone as the Ten Commandments, and is beyond human threat, challenge or question. If we can see ourselves as Jesus, then we can let go of “Who am I?” as a question answered and move on to other questions. If we can see ourselves as Jesus, we can not only claim value for ourselves, but offer it to others, letting others know they have value, they are beloved.

Meaning and purpose, Tony Campolo Title or Testimony

Tony Campolo speaks often about his church. He is a white sociology professor who worships at a Black Baptist church. Each year they have student recognition day at their church. It is on the Sunday between Christmas and New Years when all the college students are home for the holiday. Some of the students will stand up and tell about what they are doing, giving an account of their studies. In a church where many of the older members haven’t had the opportunities of the younger ones, they love hearing about what the students are doing. After a half dozen students gave their reports, the pastor got up and spoke. He said to them, “Children, you are going to die! You may not think you’re going to die, but you are. One of these days, they’re going to take you out to the cemetery, drop you in a hole, throw some dirt on your face, and go back to the church and eat potato salad. “You see, when you were born, you alone were crying and everybody else was happy. The important question I want to ask is this: when you die, are you alone going to be happy leaving everybody else crying? The answer depends on this…it depends on whether you live to get titles or testimonies. 106

“When they lay you in the grave, are people going to stand around reciting the fancy titles you earned, or are they going to stand around giving testimonies of the good things you did for them? Will they list your degrees and awards, or will they tell about what a blessing you were to them? Will you leave behind just a newspaper column telling people how important you were, or will you leave crying people who give testimonies of how they’ve lost the best friend they ever had? There is nothing wrong with titles. Titles are good things to have. But if it ever comes down to a choice between a title or a testimony – go for the testimony.” Then he went and preached a sermon on the whole Bible as only a black preacher can do… He began with the Pharaoh. He said… “Pharaoh had the title. He was the king of the most powerful nation in the world. He was the greatest builder that had ever lived. He had title after title after title. But Moses had the testimony. He met with God before the burning bush and was never the same. Moses went to Pharaoh, and Pharaoh couldn't stop him, there was no punishment too great that could keep God's messenger from fulfilling his task. Pharaoh had the title, but Moses had the testimony. God's people had to go free. “Goliath had the title. He was the fiercest, meanest, toughest warrior that ever lived. He was the Mohammed Ali of slaughter. But David had the testimony. He saw how God had delivered the people of Israel for years before. He knew that God would stand with him and the giant would fall. Goliath had the spear and the title, but David had the testimony, and the giant fell. “King Nebuchadnezzar had the title. He was king of Babylon. But Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego had the testimony. King Nebuchadnezzar had the idol. It was 90' tall and 9' wide and made of gold. Nebuchadnezzar had the power, the power to make everyone bow down to his idol. Everyone except Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego, because they had the testimony. They told Neb. that he could throw them in the fiery furnace, and that their God could save them, and even if he didn't he was still the one true God. Neb. had the fiery furnace for Shad. Mesh. and Abed. had the testimony. “And Pilate. Pilate had the title. He had all the authority of Rome. He had all the power of Rome. Pilate had the title. Pilate's title put Jesus on a cross. Pilate’s title put Jesus in a tomb. Pilate’s title rolled a big rock in front of it, and Pilate’s title sealed it closed. But that tomb didn’t stay closed. For that little stone was nothing compared to the Rock of Ages. That little stone was nothing compared to the power of an empty grave. That little stone was nothing compared to a life of testimony. Pilate had the title, but Jesus had the testimony. Jesus was alive.” Do you think those students went back to school the same? Do you think they went back to school thinking about a degree? They were challenged to live in response to God who is the kingdom and the power and the glory, forever. They were challenged to live lives of purpose, to live lives of loyalty, to seek not lives full of titles but testimony to God! So, what about you on this Rally Day, will you pray seeking God to do your bidding, or will you open your heart and life saying, “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done…” Will you pray as if yours is the kingdom or pray saying, “Thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever and ever…” Will you pray in this way, like the creatures in Revelation, “Holy, holy, holy, the Lord God the Almighty, who was and is and is to come.” Will you pray like the elders in Revelation, “You are worthy, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power, for you created all things, and by your will they existed and were created.” Will you pray a prayer of doxology, will you live a life of doxology, will you live a life that cries out, “Thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever and ever….”

Meaning, purpose driven, live so your life makes sense to God, you’ll never know whether or not what you do matters, trust that it does, Penicillin Churchill

The challenge has been set to be loyal to God. 107

The challenge has been set, to seek a life not of titles, but testimony. His name was Fleming, and he was a poor Scottish farmer. One day, while trying to make a living for his family, he heard a cry for help coming from a nearby bog. He dropped his tools and ran to the bog. There, mired to his waist in black muck, was a terrified boy, screaming and struggling to free himself. Farmer Fleming saved the lad from what could have been a slow and terrifying death. The next day, a fancy carriage pulled up to the Scotsman's sparse surroundings. An elegantly dressed nobleman stepped out and introduced himself as the father of the boy Farmer Fleming had saved. "I want to repay you," said the nobleman. "You saved my son's life. "No, I can't accept payment for what I did," the Scottish farmer replied, waving off the offer. At that moment, the farmer's own son came to the door of the family hovel. "Is that your son?" the nobleman asked. "Yes," the farmer replied proudly. "I'll make you a deal. Let me provide him with the level of education my own son will enjoy. If the lad is anything like his father, he'll no doubt grow to be a man we both will be proud of." And that he did. Farmer Fleming's son attended the very best schools and in time, he graduated from St. Mary's Hospital Medical School in London, and went onto become known throughout the world as the noted Sir Alexander Fleming, the discoverer of Penicillin. Years afterward, the same nobleman's son who was saved from the bog was stricken with pneumonia. What saved his life this time? Penicillin. The name of the nobleman? Lord Randolph Churchill. His son's name? Sir Winston Churchill. Someone once said: What goes around comes around.

Meaning: Heschel

WHAT IS THE meaning of my being? … My quest—man’s quest—is not for theoretical knowledge about myself … What I look for is not how to gain a firm hold on myself and on life, but primarily how to live a life that would deserve and evoke an eternal Amen.

IT IS NOT ENOUGH for me to be able to say “I am”; I want to know who I am, and in relation to whom I live. It is not enough for me to ask questions; I want to know how to answer the one question that seems to encompass everything I face: What am I here for?

WHY BE CONCERNED with meaning? Why not be content with satisfaction of desires and needs? The vital drives of food, sex, and power, as well as the mental functions aimed at satisfying them, are as characteristic of animals as they are of man. Being human is a characteristic of a being who faces the question: After satisfaction, what?

Miracles, Prayer, Tony Campolo Stolfus

A prayer meeting was held for Tony Camplolo just before he spoke at a Pentecostal college chapel service. Eight men took Tony to a back room of the chapel, had him kneel, laid their hands on his head, and began to pray. That’s a good thing, Tony wrote, except that they prayed a long time, and the

108 longer they prayed, the more tired they got, and the more tired they got, the more they leaned on his head. “I want to tell you that when eight guys are leaning on your head, it doesn’t feel so good.” To make matters worse, one of the men was not even praying for Tony. He went on and on praying for somebody named Charlie Stoltzfus: “Dear Lord, you know Charlie Stoltzfus. He lives in that silver trailer down the road a mile. You know the trailer, Lord, just down the road on the right-hand side.” (Tony said he wanted to inform the pray-er that it was not necessary to furnish God with directional material.) “Lord, Charlie told me this morning that he’s going to leave his wife and three kids. Step in and do something, God. Bring that family back together.” Tony writes that he finally got the Pentecostal preachers off his head, delivered his message, and got in his car to drive home. As he drove the Pennsylvania Turnpike, he noticed a hitchhiker. I’ll let him tell it from there: We drove for a few minutes and I said: “Hi, my name’s Tony Campolo. What’s yours?” He said, “My name is Charlie Stoltzfus.” I couldn’t believe it! I got off the turnpike at the next exit and headed back. He got a bit uneasy with that and after a few minutes he said, “Hey mister, where are you taking me?” I said, “I’m taking you home.” He narrowed his eyes and asked, “Why?” I said, “Because you just left your wife and three kids, right?” That blew him away. “Yeah! Yeah, that’s right.” With shock written all over his face, he plastered himself against the car door and never took his eyes off me. Then I really did him in as I drove right to his silver trailer. When I pulled up, his eyes seemed to bulge as he asked, “How did you know that I lived here?” I said, “God told me.” (I believe God did tell me…) When he opened the trailer door his wife exclaimed, “You’re back! You’re back!” He whispered in her ear and the more he talked, the bigger her eyes got. Then I said with real authority, “The two of you sit down. I’m going to talk and you two are going to listen!” Man, did they listen!….

Mission not charity: what to you have: Hannah Salwen

Kevin Salwen picked up his fourteen year old daughter, Hannah, from a slumber party and was driving her home. At a red light, Hannah looked out their windows and saw a homeless man on the sidewalk holding up a sign asking for money to buy food. On the other side of the car, in the lane next to them, Hannah saw a black Mercedes. She looked from the Mercedes, back to the homeless man, and from the homeless man back again to the Mercedes. Then she said to her father, “If that guy didn’t have such a nice car, then that guy could have a nice meal.” It made sense to her. A less expensive car for one man could keep another off the street. Hannah was moved. She challenged her family. “What do you want to do?” asked Hannah’s mother. “Sell our house?” Her mother was joking. Hannah wasn’t. Hannah thought selling the house was a great idea. They could trade their house in for a less expensive one, half the size and half the expense, and donate the difference to charity. And that’s what they did. They contributed half the sale of their house to a non-profit called The Hunger Project where the money has gone to impact the lives of thousands in a positive way. Hannah and her father teamed up to write a book about the project, The Power of Half. Hannah told The New York Times, “No one expects anyone to sell a house. That’s kind of a ridiculous thing to do. For us, the house was just something we could live without. It was too big for us. Everyone has too much of something, whether it’s time, talent or treasure. Everyone does have their own half; you just have to find it.”

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Though some accuse the Salwens of grandstanding, Kevin told The Times, “This is the most self- interested thing we have ever done. I’m thrilled that we can help others. I’m blown away by how much it has helped us.” Their charity benefited their family; they gave away wealth and found health; they found addition through subtraction; through the loss of some of their stuff, they gained additional peace of mind; for them, for all of us, that is enough. In your life, like theirs, where do you need to let go of some of your wealth to find health, where have you been caught up in more, more and need the power of enough? A simple word. A powerful word. Enough. Say it now. Enough. Say it daily. Enough.

Mission not charity: With others: Go to them: Heschel

Perhaps we must begin by disclosing the fallacy of absolute expediency. God’s voice may sound feeble to our conscience. Yet there is a divine cunning in history which seems to prove that the wages of absolute expediency is disaster. We must not tire of reminding the world that something is asked of man, of every man; that the value of charity is not to be measured in terms of public relations. Foreign aid, when offered to underdeveloped countries for the purpose of winning friends and influencing people, turns out to be a boomerang. Should we not learn how to detach expediency from charity? The great failure of American policy is not in public relations. The great failure is in private relations. The spirit is a still small voice, and the masters of vulgarity use loudspeakers. The voice has been stifled, and many of us have lost faith in the possibility of a new perceptiveness. (Abrahm Joshua Heschel)

Mission, Commitment, duty, World War I, Giving life for something bigger even children, Four Minute Men

Early in World War I, in order to recruit volunteers for the Army and to recruit older people to invest in the war by buying bonds, there were The Four Minute Men (and women), who, named after the Minute Men from the Revolutionary War, would give a call to arms. They would speak at all the entertainment venues, plays, movies, etc. and have four minutes to convince the listeners, the young men to enlist and the older men and women to buy bonds. Over 50,000 speakers gave millions of speeches to millions of hearers. My favorite, or the one that sticks out, is this given by a women, a mother… “It’s Duty Boy” My boy must never bring disgrace to his immortal sires— At Valley Forge and Lexington they kindled freedom’s fires, John’s father died at Gettysburg, mine fell at Chancellorsville; While John himself was with the boys who charged up San Juan Hill. And John, if he was living now, would surely say with me, "No son of ours shall e’er disgrace our grand old family tree By turning out a slacker when his country needs his aid." It is not of such timber that America was made. 110

I’d rather you had died at birth or not been born at all, Than know that I had raised a son who cannot hear the call That freedom has sent round the world, its previous rights to save— This call is meant for you, my boy, and I would have you brave; And though my heart is breaking, boy, I bid you do your part, And show the world no son of mine is cursed with craven heart; And if, perchance, you ne’er return, my later days to cheer, And I have only memories of my brave boy, so dear, I’d rather have it so, my boy, and know you bravely died Than have a living coward sit supinely by my side. To save the world from sin, my boy, God gave his only son— He’s asking for My boy, to-day, and may His will be done. The mom, “It’s okay son if you don’t come back like your grandparents…” Still works on me. To be a part of something bigger than yourself.

Mission, Risk, courage, something of the heart, cat, dog, heart of mouse

There once was a mouse that was afraid of cats. He convinced a magician to help him overcome his fear of cats by transforming him into a cat. That worked well, he saw other cats, “How are you doing cats? I’m a cat like you! A cooool cat.” Then all the cats ran away. “What are you running from?” Then he saw a dog. He convinced the magician to change him into a dog. The mouse turned cat turned dog convinced the magician to turn him into a tiger. That worked well, no longer afraid of dogs, now dogs feared him. He was content until he met a hunter. He went to the magician again, but this time the magician refused to help. In fact, he made him a mouse again. “I have made you a mouse again for though you might have the body of a tiger or some other large beast, you will always have the heart of a mouse.”

Mission: Peace, by changing world, evolution

Imagine a man sitting on the step of an old “One Stop” store and gas station. An out of town car drives up. The man in it pumps the gas and comes into the store to pay. The visitor asks the man in the chair. “Sir, do you live around here.” “Yes,” he replies. “Well, my wife and I are thinking about moving here, but we want to know what the people are like.” “What are they like where you come from?” the man asks. “Well, no one is happy. People gossip all the time. Always complaining and no one gets along.” “Yep,” he replied. “Pretty much the same here.” A month later. The same store. The same man sitting by the door, but a different visitor. The visitor asks the man in the chair. “Sir, do you live around here.” “Yes,” he replies. “Well, my wife and I are thinking about moving here, but we want to know what the people are like.” “What are they like where you come from?” the man asks. 111

“We are leaving a great town. Everyone gets along, always helping. The streets are filled with laughter.” “Yep,” he replied. “Pretty much the same here.” How you approach life is irrelevant of the world around you. So you can quit seeking Nirvana, the Lost Horizon, Atlantis, the perfect community, you can quit trying to fix the world, your spouse, your children.

Mission: Charity is just a shadow

Everything in this existence was a shadow of its truer form. For Plato, this chair is a shadow of a true chair. For example, Charity as we understand it is shadowy, clean out your closet, give away those pants you can’t wear, the shoes with holes in them, the ties your mother in law gave you… True charity which includes compassion, mercy, hope, and love enacted.

Mission: Compassion: Mercy, Vet and puppy

One night a doctor was driving home. He noticed something in the middle of the road. It was moving just a little bit. He slowed his car down and saw a small brown puppy with white spots. He got out of his car and saw that the puppy was still alive. He took the puppy home with him. There he discovered that the dog had beened stunned, had suffered a few cuts and bruises, but would be o.k. He wrapped the dog in a blanket and left him in a box in his kitchen. The next morning when the doctor woke up. He went downstairs to find a happy puppy bouncing in his kitchen. He opened the door to get the morning paper and out shot the dog and ran out of sight. The doctor just stood there in his robe and watched the dog go. "Boy, that's gratitude for you. Not even a thank you." The doctor figured that he would never see that puppy again. Later that morning when he walked out the door to go to the office, there was the puppy, and with the puppy was another hurt dog.

Mission: connection not charity, appreciating your abundance

I want to tell you about Marcie. She was doing her budget. You could only get so far on Social Security. With every check in her register, she cursed under her breath. The doorbell rang. A little boy stood in front of her, “You got any cans lady?” He was going door to door in the sleet collecting soft drink cans to try and get some money. She looked at this cold, wet boy and said, “Young man, how would you like a cup of hot chocolate?” He thought for a moment, “With marshmallows?” “Yes, with marshmallows.” The riches one could earn at collecting cans were instantly traded for a cup of hot chocolate with marshmallows. They sat at her kitchen table. “You rich, Lady?” “Am I rich?” Marcie asked thinking about her checkbook. “By no means am I rich. What makes you ask a question like that?” The boy picked up his cup, “Your cups match your saucers.” She thought for a moment. She thought of how much matched in her life. Supper was on the stove. The mash potatoes matched the gravy. Her winter coat in the closet matched her clothes. There was a 112 roof over her head, it matched the floor. She had her children she talked to every Sunday, a church she loved, friends she played bridge with, all those things matched, too. “Well, I guess I am rich,” she said to herself. “What about you? You have friends? Family?” They talked about the boy, the people, the things that he loved in life. They talked for a half hour. They had another cup of hot chocolate, with marshmallows. Both thought, “This sure is good hot chocolate.”28

Mission: Connection, not charity, Tony Campolo Rich man in D.C. church

Tony Campolo tells about a very formal and affluent Presbyterian Church just outside of Washington, D.C. The worship service was very dignified and structured as Presbyterian services can be. The sanctuary was magnificent, the music very stately, and the congregation was formerly attired which gave the message that everything there was done decently and in order. Quite unexpectedly the atmosphere of the church was disrupted by a barefoot young man who was high on drugs and dressed in rags. He stumbled down the main aisle of the church all the way to the front of the sanctuary. The entire congregation was taken aback by the intruder. He walked down the front and stared right at the preacher. Then he squatted on the floor right in front of the pulpit. The pastor tried to ignore him and did his best to keep the service moving along, but he was obviously upset. Then a tall, elderly gentleman, dressed in full suit and tie, got up from his pew and walked down the center aisle toward the strange visitor. The old man carried a brass capped cane, and some feared that he was going to use it to drive the hippie intruder out of the sanctuary. But instead, something remarkable happened. The old man paused beside that dirty and ragged young man, sat down, and put his arm around his shoulder. Those unlikely partners sat arm in arm for the rest of the service. They provided the congregation of that church with the real sermon that morning.29

Mission: Disillusionment in career. Fred Craddock swore this actually happened to him. He was visiting in a home of one of his students. While they visited, Fred watched the children play with the family pet, a large greyhound. The father of the kids told him, “He’s a full-blooded greyhound. He used to race down in Florida. Then we got him. Great dog with the kids, that greyhound.” After dinner, the young parents excused themselves and hustled the kids off to bed, leaving Fred with the greyhound. While he sat there and waited for the parents, the dog turned to Fred and asked, “This your first visit to Connecticut?” “No,” Fred answered. “I went to school up here a long time ago.” “Well, I guess you heard. I came up here from Miami,” said the greyhound. “You retired?” Fred said. “No, is that what they told you? No, no, I didn’t retire. I spent 10 years as a professional, racing dog. That means 10 years of running around that track day after day, seven days a week with others chasing a rabbit. Well, one day, I got up close; I got a good look at that rabbit. It was a fake! I had spent my whole life chasing a fake rabbit! Hey, I didn’t retire; I quit!”

Mission: Essential, Curly from City Slickers One Thing

28 Based on a story in More Stories for the Heart, p.30 29 Tony Campolo, Who Switched the Pricetags, p.174. 113

In the movie, “City Slickers”, Billy Crystal plays Mitch. Mitch is depressed because he is aging. His life has little purpose. For his 39th birthday, his friends give him a two week vacation out west to a dude ranch in Colorado to participate in a cattle drive. On the drive, Mitch is moving part of the herd with Curly, a full fledged real life rugged cowboy. Mitch’s depression and frustration with life show through his conversation. Curly asks, “How old are you? Thirty-eight?” “Thirty-nine,” Mitch replies. “You all come up here about the same time with the same problems. You spend fifty weeks out of the year getting knots in your rope and think two weeks up here will get them out. None of you see it. You know the secret of life?” “No,” Mitch replies, “what.” “This.” Curly holds up one finger. “Your finger?” Mitch asks. “One thing. Just one thing. You stick to that and everything else (falls in place)?” “What’s that one thing?” Mitch asks. “That’s what you’ve got to figure out,” Curly tells him.

Mission: Kingdom vision living into, for others, Frankl, choices

Victor Frankl addressed a conference of 7,000 people in Anaheim, California in 1990. He told the compelling story of his life.He described the terrible things that happened to him while he was imprisoned in a nazi death camp, and how he had nearly died many times. He was physically and psychologically abused and tortured. During his talk, Frankl described on day in particular that seemed to be etched deeply within him. It was a wintry day in Poland. He was being marched through a field with a group of other prisoners. He was dressed in thin clothing, with no socks and had holes in his shoes. He was ill from malnutrition. He was so cold and so ill, that he began to cough. The cough overwhelmed him. It was so strong he fell to his knees. A guard came over and told him to get up and keep walking, but his cough was so intense and debilitating that he could not even answer. The guard began to beat him with a club and told him that he would be left to die if he did not get up. Frankl had witnessed this done to others so he knew the guard was serious. Sick, in pain, being kicked, “This is it for me,” he thought to himself. There he was on the ground, when he got a vision. He was no longer in Poland but giving a lecture in postwar Vienna Austria on “The Psychology of Death Camps”. He had an audience of two hundred. The lecture was one he had been working out in his mind during his whole stay in the death camps. He spoke of how some people seem to survive the experience better than others. The whole lecture was taking place in his mind. He was no longer half-dead on the cold ground, but warm, safe, living in the lecture. During the lecture, Frankl even told the audience how he was in the field that day, almost beaten to death, sure that he couldn’t find the strength to get up and keep walking. Then,he told his imagined audience, he was able to stand up. The guard stopped beating him and he began, slowly at first, then with more strength to walk. As he was imagining describing this to his audience, his body did get up and began to walk. He imagined the rest of his lecture on the rest of his walk and returned to his bunk where he collapsed and received a standing ovation. In Anaheim where he told this moving story to 7,000 people, he received a standing ovation. What did Victor Frankl have that enabled him to survive where other’s didn’t? He had a vivid image of the future. He had an image of a better day, a better world. It drove him forward. It gave him the strength to press on.

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Mission: Kingdom worldview, This is all there is or more

John Claypool relates an encounter he had with a student home over Christmas vacation from college. Christmas holiday Appointment Young college student who grew up in the church home from school. Excited about the visit. Body language of the girl tense She said, "I've come to ask you formally to remove my name from the rolls of this church because I can no longer in good conscience consider myself to be a Christian." John asked what was behind this request. She said, "I grew up believing what my parents and what the church taught me, and that is that God created human beings. But now that I've been exposed to lots of other data, I've concluded it's the other way around. It's human beings who have created God. "I think people believe what they want to believe, not necessarily what is true. I think people dig down into their needs and into their desires, and they make up their wishes, and they project that on the screen of religious belief. I don't think there's anything objectively real when a person says, `I believe,' and I can no longer in good conscience be a part of such an enterprise." John didn’t know how she expected him to respond. Then I said, "I'm just curious. Where did you encounter this charge against the validity of religious experience?" And she said, "It's everywhere in the academic community where I'm living." She continued, "I first encountered it in an introduction to psychology. It was pointed out to me that Sigmund Freud, the great pioneer in that area in this century, wrote a definitive work on religion called, The Future of an Illusion. Freud said that people are lonely and frightened in this empty cosmos, and, therefore, they make up this idea of a Fatherly God as a kind of comfort against the cold and emptiness of nothingness. There is nothing objectively real to it. It is simply a figment of their imagination. "I also encountered it in political science," she explained. "As you well know, Karl Marx said that religion is the opiate of the people. It's the way the upper class keeps the underclass under thumb. There is nothing objectively real to it." Then she said, "I'm a drama major. I was in a play this fall written by Eugene O'Neill, and the character I played had a line that sticks in my mind. The line was, `Religion is the chloroform mask into which the weak and the fearful stick their faces.' I have to have truth," she said, "and I don't believe it exists in any real form in the whole realm of religion." How would you respond to this girl? What would you tell her? In her trip to college, she found a different world view than the one she had grown up in the church. These two world views are described well in Marcus Borg’s book, The Heart of Christianity, p.63. There are two primary kinds (of world views) religious and nonreligious. In a nonreligious worldview, there is no “More.”(William James’ term for God and the spiritual). There is only “this” the space-time world of matter and energy and whatever other natural forces lie behind or beyond it. Born in the Enlightenment of the seventeenth century, it is sometimes called a secular or naturalistic or material worldview…And because this is the dominant worldview in modern Western culture, it is often called the modern worldview or the worldview of modernity. In a religious worldview, there is, a “More”. In addition to the visible world of our ordinary experience and as a disclosed by science, there is a “more” a nonmaterial layer or level of reality, an extra dimension. This view is shared by all major religions of the world. 115

When it comes to God, the nonreligious worldview has two basic assumptions. 1. There is no God. 2. People who believe in God just made it up to, as Freud put it, as a kind of comfort against the cold and emptiness of nothingness.

Mission: Kingdom, God’s vision not your dreams

That’s what prayer is. Abraham Joshua Heschel described prayer as dreaming for God. He said, Prayer is frequently an inner vision, an intense dreaming for God – the reflection of the Divine intentions in the soul of people… To pray is to dream in league with God, to envision His holy visions.

Mission: Kingdom: following path others have taken: destination: goal: vision, not path of least resistance, Fritz: communities and organizations stuck in patterns

I have a friend who lives in Boston. I’ve been to see him twice. The first time, Carrie and I drove into Boston. I had heard about the roads in Boston, but what I heard didn’t prepare me for what I found. We exited the highway, at the bottom of the ramp, their were no lines, just a general area with room enough for four cars wide. They filled the area with everyone but me seeming like they knew where to go our what to do. We spent half a day there and left as quick as we could choosing to spend what time we had on our vacation outside of town. I returned to Boston for my friend’s wedding. This time he picked me up at the airport and escorted this small town boy around town. We were talking about the roads in Boston as we drove down the highway. He said, “Roads in Boston are like this..” he quickly changed lanes. It was a good thing he did because the lane we were in suddenly ended. No sign. No warning. First there was a lane. Then there was a concrete wall. That was my last trip to Boston. I read a book by a native of Boston who explained how the roads in his home city developed. According to this author, the Boston roads were formed by utilizing existing cow paths. Cows would travel through the area moving where it was easiest for them to move. The cow didn’t look ahead at all. The cow simply put one foot in front of the other, and then took whichever step was easiest at that moment, avoiding a rock or taking the lowest incline. Each time the cows passed through the same area, it became easier for them to take the same path they had taken the last time because it was more clearly defined. You understand the roads in Boston when you realize, “the city planning in Boston gravitates around the mentality of the seventeenth- century cow.”30 Cows aren’t famous for being visionary creatures. They avoid the difficult paths. They travel with no goal in mind. And they don’t look ahead in deciding where they’ll go. Sad to say, as evidenced by the roads in Boston, people often suffer from a similar lack of vision. Like cows, we often take the easiest paths, not thinking about where we want to go, not thinking about our destination, not thinking about the future. We often suffer from the same lack of vision as a wandering hefer. Listen to this letter to President Andrew Jackson dated January 31, 1829. To President Jackson: The canal system of this country is being threatened by the spread of a new form of transportation known as “railroads.” The federal government must preserve the canals for the following reasons:

30 Robert Fritz, The Path of Least Resistance, p.3. 116

One. If canal boats are supplanted by “railroads,” serious unemployment will result. Captains, cooks, drivers, hostlers, repairmen and lock tenders will be left without means of livelihood, not to mention the numerous farmers now employed in growing hay for horses. Two. Boat builders would suffer and towline, whip and harness makers would be left destitute. Three. Canal boats are absolutely essential to the defense of the United States. In the event of the expected trouble with England, the Erie Canal would be the only means by which we could ever move the supplies so vital to waging modern war. As you may well know, Mr. President, “railroad” carriages are pulled at the enormous speed of fifteen miles per hour by “engines” which, in addition to endangering life and limb of passengers, roar and snort their way through the countryside, setting fire to crops, scaring the livestock and frightening women and children. The Almighty never intended that people should travel at such breakneck speed. Martin Van Buren Governor of New York

Vision is essential to growth. Vision is essential to development. It is essential to the planning of the future. But we are often lacking in vision. And we are not encouraging it in our children. We ask children when they are little, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” But as they get older, we only focus on process and seldom do we ask youth, seldom do we ask teenagers, “What do you want to do with your life?” Our education system is more concerned with process than helping students have a vision for their lives. Schools promote process not vision. Schools teach mathematics and constructing grammatical sentences. Schools teach how to write research papers and do laboratory experiments in biology. Schools teach how to draw, to speak in public, to read musical notation, perhaps even to write a poem or two. The assumption is that as you become fluent in these process, the results you want in your life will take care of themselves. Consequently few educators ask students the question, “What do you want for your life?”31 “And what are you willing to do to get there?”

Mission: Kingdom: Vision for a better world: WWII soldiers in Paris where color didn’t matter: George Dawson

George Dawson learned to read when he was 98. On the back of his book is the line, “Ever since I turned a hundred, life has been busy.” In his autobiography, he tells of when the soldiers came back from World War I to his small town of Marshall, Texas. I did know one man that came back from the war. He was a colored man, name of Moses. He was a bit older than me, but I had talked to him afew times at the cotton mill, before he left for the army. I saw him there again when he got back. Before, it was always, “Hi. How you doing George?” And that would be that. He was a quiet one but a nice man. Somehow he seemed different now. It was right after the parade and I said, “Did you see the parade yesterday?” “No. I didn’t, and I didn’t march in it netiehr.” Now all the soldiers that were marching were white and it never occurred to me that he would have been in the parade.

31 Path of Least Resistance, pp.70-71. 117

I nodded. I could see he expected something more and I said, “Well, it was a nice parade, good music, too.” “I have the same uniform too, but I can’t march in Texas. I marched in some parades in France, thought.” “Well, that’s good,” I said. “I guess we didn’t have enough colored soldiers for a parade.” “No,” Moses said. “You got it wrong. We didn’t have a colored parade there. We marched in the same parades, colored and white, side by side.” “Yeah, they do parades that way there?” “Oh, it ain’t just parades,” Moses said. “That right, what else is different over there?” Moses said, “Everything is different. In Paris, that’s a big city…” “Bigger than Marshall?” “Oh, yeah, way bigger. I could walk anywhere, eat in any restaurant I wanted to, and the people would treat me nice.” “That’s good that they have a colored section in every restaurant,” I said. “No, no,” Moses said to me. “They don’t have no colored sections. I could go to any restaurant and sit wherever I wanted. They had drinking fountains all throughout the city. No white fountains, no colored fountains. All the water fountains were for everybody.” “That’s nice, and bathrooms, too?” “You got that right,” Moses said. “I guess this ain’t Paris then.” Moses laughed, but an angry kind of way. I said, “I got to be checking at the mill and collecting for my cotton. Been nice seeing you. Welcome back.” I could see he was going to have a hard time in Marshall now. I didn’t shake hands with him since I wasn’t sure how. His right arm was cut off at the elbow and the sleeve pinned to his shirt. I didn’t know if it was okay to shake his left hand instead. Neither of us mentioned it, thought I noticed it first thing.32

Mission: Language: Hunger, mission, Tony Campolo, shit

Tony Campolo tells of a college student leading chapel. He began with this opening phrase, “35,000 children die everyday from starvation and malnutrition every day, and the problem is that you don’t give a shit. The real problem is that you are more concerned that I just said ‘shit’ in chapel than you are that I just told you 35,000 children die everyday from malnutrition and starvation. That’s what I want to talk to you about is your morality…” Mission: Lost in busyness Stephen Covey when he said, It is incredibly easy to get caught up in an activity trap, in the busy-ness of life, to work harder and harder at climbing the ladder of success only to discover it’s leaning against the wrong wall. It is possible to be busy — very busy — without being very effective.

Mission: not comfort but challenge:

32 George Dawson, Life is So Good, p.90. 118

Kierkegaard noted that many great minds of his century had given themselves to making people’s lives easier -- inventing labor-saving machines and devices. He said that he would dedicate himself to making peoples lives more difficult. He would become a preacher. Unfortunately, we have psychologized the gospel, turned it into a feeling, transformed the Kingdom of God into a mood. We have deluded ourselves into thinking that the Messiah whom we await is the great cosmic affirmer of everything we hold dear and of all our illusionsWill Willimon Sermons from Religion On Line

Mission: Passion, life more than purpose

Author Sam Keen loved the trapeze. He learned how to fly on the trapeze just before his 62 birthday. Sam Keen said this about passion. In the degree that I cease to pursue my deepest passions, I will gradually be controlled by my deepest fears. When Passion no longer waters and nurtures the psyche, fears spring up like weeds on the depleted soil of abandoned fields. I suspect that the major cause of the mood of depression and despair and the appetite for violence in modern life is the result of the masses of people who are enslaved by an economic order that rewards them for laboring at jobs that do not engage their passion for creativity and meaning. Think we need a new word –comjoyment – as a companion to compassion, to remind us that our greatest gift to the world may be in sharing what gives us the greatest joy. A Failure of Nerve

Mission: Vocation, God at table with sand, your name in my life

The Spirit leds you out, not to the desert, but to a table covered with not sand, but dust. God is on one side of this table, and you are on the other. You realize two things: The dust on the table before you is your life, and… God has brought you here to make you an offer. God says, “I will write one thing in the dust and one thing only. I will write whatever you ask me to write, and whatever it is it will become a part of your life. You may ask for anything: any knowledge, any virtue, and any gift, any hope any dream, any grace, any possession, anything. I will write it in the dust, and it will become a part of you and your life.” “Could I be rich?” you ask.. “Yes, if that is the one thing you want,” God answers. “Happy?” “Certainly.” “Powerful?” “Yes.” “Famous?” “Yes.” “What if I wanted to be able to see into the future?” he asked. “Even that is possible,” answered the Other One. While each choice fulfilled one hope or dream, it left some other hope or dream unprotected and potentially unfulfilled. You sit there for a long time. “It’s time,” God says. You look up and smile. “You know what I want.” “Are you sure,” God asks. 119

“I want something more than all those other wishes could give me.” “Then say it,” God says. “What shall I write in your dust?” Then you take a deep breath. “Your Name,” he declared to the Other One. “Write your Name in my dust.” Suddenly it seemed as if light and song surrounded them as the God moves a single finger toward the tabletop.33[1] Mission: With others solidarity

Historian Nora Groce studied the community and compared the experience of the hearing people to non hearing people. She found that 80% of the non hearing people graduated from high school as did 80% of the hearing people. She found that 90% of the non hearing people got married compared to about 92% of the hearing. They had about equal number of children. Their income levels were similar as were the variety and distribution of their occupations. She then did a comparative study with the deaf on the Massachusetts mainland. At the time Massachusetts was considered to have the best services in the nation for the deaf. In her study, she found that 50% of the non hearing people graduated from high school compared to 75% of the hearing. Non hearing people married half the time while hearing people married 90% of the time. She found that 40% of the non hearing people had children while 80% of the hearing people did. Non hearing people received about one third of the income of the hearing people, and their range of occupations was much more limited. Groce wondered how on an island with no services that non hearing people were as much like hearing people as could be measured, but thirty miles away, with the most advanced services available, non hearing people lived lives so lacking in quality from their hearing neighbors. How was it, Groce wondered, that on an island with no services, non hearing people were as much like hearing people as you could possibly measure. Yet 30 miles away, with the most advanced services available, non hearing people lived much poorer lives than the hearing.31 The answer is simple, there were sheep living on the island and goats occupying the mainland. On the mainland, the deaf had a problem. On the island, the community had a hearing problem. On the mainland, they gave charity. On the island, they lived in solidarity. On the mainland, there were dualities of us and them, on the island, there was just us.

When you judge another, you do not define them, you define yourself. – Wayne Dyer

He who experiences the unity of life sees his own Self in all beings, and all beings in his own Self, and looks on everything with an impartial eye. – Buddha

Where there is unity there is always victory. – Publilius Syrus 100 B.C.

The progress of science is the discovery at each step of a new order which gives unity to what had seemed unlike. – Jacob Bronkowski

Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it. – Helen Schucman

The essence of the beautiful is unity in variety. – William Somerset Maugham

The point in history at which we stand is full of promise and danger. The world will either move forward toward unity and widely shared prosperity – or it will move apart. – Franklin D. Roosevelt

33[1] From The Carpenter and The Unbuilder, by Daniel Greenbrier 120

Moment: appreciating each one: Mothers

A king gave one of his servants a challenge, he said, “Go and find a ring that will make a happy person sad and a sad person happy.” He thought it impossible, so did the servant. He searched the jewlers and merchant in every surrounding village and kingdom, then he returned years later. The king was surprised to see him with a ring. He looked at it and nodded his head. Surely this was a ring that would make a sad person happy and a happy person sad. The ring had an inscription. The inscription read, “This too shall pass.” The power of time. If suffering, “This too shall pass.” If enjoying the wealth of your kingdom, “This too shall pass.” No matter how great your suffering… it will pass. No matter what your wealth… it will pass. Mike K., basketball coach at Duke, writes of an important conversation he had with his mother that reminded him what was important in life. It wasn’t really a conversation. Actually it was one word. In 1995, he was sitting in his office reviewing videotapes when his mom called. This is what she said, “Hi Mike, I don’t want to bother you or take up too much of your time…” He doesn’t remember the rest of the conversation. What he remembers is that his eighty-three year old mother apologized for bothering him. “Don’t let me bother you…” It drove him to tears. “What has happened in my relationship to my mother so that she thinks she’s bothering me? She has to apologize for taking up my time?” He examined his relationships. His mother had taught him one of life’s most valuable lessons and she didn’t need a whole team to do it. All she needed was one word. “Bother.” “I don’t want to bother you.” In that simple way she had opened a door for him to realize that he was so caught up in basketball he wasn’t taking enough time for his family – for the people who mattered most. K. thought back to his friend Jimmy Valvano before Jimmy V. died of cancer. Jimmy had tried to tell him the same thing. In Jimmy’s colorful language he said simply, “Don’t screw it up, Mike.” Mike had screwed it up. But his mother didn’t raise a dummy. He reexamined his priorities. He remembered in the days to come. The truly important part of life is not basketball is not success, it is relationships. The next time they were in the tournament, he remembered his mother’s lesson. He told the players, “Okay guys, here’s your schedule for tomorrow. You are going to get hit by autograph seekers and all that. But don’t spend time with them until you have acknowledged all the important people in your life. You go right to your mother and give her a hug. If your mom is not here, go call her. Share the moment with her – or your father, or whoever else is important in your life.” Mike remembered, the most important thing in life is relationships.

Moment: barrier to being present: Images: first movie: seem real. so do ones in our head.

Social Intelligence: The New Science of Human Relationships (Daniel Goleman) The scene: Paris, 1895. A handful of adventurous souls have ventured into an exhibition by the Lumière brothers, pioneers in photography. For the first time in history, the brothers are presenting to the public a “moving picture,” a short film depicting—in utter silence—a train chugging into a station, spewing steam and charging toward the camera. The audience’s reaction: they scream in terror and duck under their seats. People had never before seen pictures move. This utterly naïve audience could not help but register as “real” the eerie specter on the screen. The most magical, powerful event in film history may 121 well have been these very first moments in Paris, because the realization that what the eye saw was merely an illusion had not registered with any of the viewers. So far as they—and their brain’s perceptual system—were concerned, the images on the screen were reality. As one movie critic points out, “The dominating impression that this is real is a large part of the primitive power of the art form,” even today.17 That sense of reality continues to ensnare filmgoers because the brain responds to the illusion created by the film with the same circuitry as it does to life itself. Even onscreen emotions are contagious. Some of the neural mechanisms involved in this screen-to-viewer contagion were identified by an Israeli research team, who showed clips from the 1970s spaghetti western The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly to volunteers in an fMRI. In what may be the only article in the annals of neuroscience to acknowledge the help of Clint Eastwood, the researchers came to the conclusion that the movie played the viewers’ brains like a neural puppeteer.18

Moment: beyond expectations: Ahhh: Blessings: instead of good vs. bad experiences: all about growth and learning: beyond polarity: Ahhhh

Think of life experiences. How often do you rate your life experiences? Think about the experiences in the following list. Which do you think is better?

Being rich or being poor? Being married or being single? Being healthy or being ill? Having children or not having children? Having a job or being unemployed? Being younger or being older? Living or dying?

Were those questions difficult for you? Probably not. Our general, often unspoken, consensus is that being rich is better than being poor, being married is better than being single, being healthy is better than being ill, having children is better than not having children, having a job is better than not having a job, being younger is better than being older, and living is better than dying. This judging, this preferring one over another, this quest to know the good from the not so good, or the good from the less-than, could have been the source of the suffering for Adam and Eve in the Eden story, and it can be that same labeling is the source for our suffering. Jianzhi Sengcan (d. 606) wrote that it is our attempts to discern good from less-than which causes us to suffer. And our liberation from our suffering, our key to a happy fulfilled life, comes from doing away with preferences. Sengcan wrote,

The Great Way is not difficult for those who have no preferences. When love and hate (like and dislike) are both absent everything becomes clear and undisguised.

Make the smallest distinction, however, and heaven and earth are set infinitely apart. If you wish to see the truth then hold no opinions for or against anything.

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To set up what you like against what you dislike is the disease of the mind. When the deep meaning of things is not understood the mind’s essential (stillness) is disturbed to no avail.34

If you’re like me, when you read have no preferences… you think, ‘What do you mean, ‘have no preferences? How can you not like being rich over being poor? being healthy over being ill? being in a relationship to being alone? being employed to unemployed? being alive over dead? That’s crazy! After all, isn’t being well better than being ill, being in relationship better than being out, being rich better than being poor, being alive better than being dead?’ Well, is it? In the world as you observe it, are riches, health, or relationship any guarantee of happiness? Are healthy people necessarily happier than sick? Are rich people necessarily happier than poor? There are plenty of people with money who are unhappy, plenty of physically healthy people who are chronically sad, and, there are terminally ill people who are happy, divorced people who are satisfied, and unemployed people who are content. The difference is not their circumstances. In Eden, isn’t it as soon as they pursue the forbidden fruit as their something more, their something else, as their if only…, that paradise is lost? Isn’t it true with us, as soon as we pursue something else, convinced that our lives short of this next desire are deficient, that we begin to suffer? Consider these following people. Will their if only thinking lead them to or away from happiness?

The single person: If only I was married, then I’d be happy. The married person: If only I had kids, then I’d be happy. The parent: If only my children respected me, then I’d be happy. The unemployed person: If only I had a job, then I’d be happy. The employed person: If only I got paid more, then I’d be happy. The sick person: If only I were healthy, then I’d be happy. The adult: If only I was younger, then I’d be happy. The child: If only I was older, then I’d be happy.

All of these assume, if only I had something else then I would be happy. Are they right? Of course not. After all, if marriage was the end all to happiness, would there be so many divorces? If parenting brought nothing but joy, would there be so much abuse and neglect? If employment or pay gave us happiness would so many people leave their jobs for another? If only leads us to the mistake of Adam and Eve, thinking that our happiness results from that one more piece of fruit. If happiness was something gained outside ourselves, through some formulated circumstance, then with all the change over the past two hundred years, wouldn’t we be the happiest people on earth? If more brought happiness, wouldn’t we be the happiest people who ever lived? Consider our advances. Over the past two centuries, statesmen and political leaders have broadened the ability of government to shape communities for the better. Scientists have developed theories that set the foundation for industry after industry. Engineers in large companies have designed tools, machines, vehicles, electronics and appliances that have altered our daily lives. Professors and researchers have written books upon books about how our minds work and how we behave socially. Psychologists have developed therapies, and doctors have developed medicine and treatments to make us healthier. Yet, with all these advancements, with so much more than any generation of people has

34Jianzhi Sengcan (d. 606), Hsin Shin Ming, or Trust in Mind, this translation from the book Trust in Mind by Mu Soeng.

123 ever had before in the history of humanity, there is no evidence that we are happier today than people were a hundred or a thousand years ago. We still think there is something more, something else in order to be happy, one more if only… which if we could get it, would make us happy. So we search our gardens, looking for the preferred thing, person, or experience, and like Adam and Eve, our hope for living in paradise is lost. We know their story, but we keep chasing after the next apple, even though the next apple won’t make us content, finally once and for all happy. The reality is no fruit, experience, or situation will make an unhappy person happy. Studies of past lottery winners show that people who were happy before winning the lottery are happy after winning the lottery, and people who were unhappy before winning the lottery are unhappy after winning the lottery. It is not the piece of fruit, the lottery ticket, the job, the spouse, or any other desirable that will give us satisfaction or contentment. Those must begin within, not changing the world but our orientation toward the world. What we need is something Adam and Eve didn’t know. We need enough, and we need another word, another word to help us find happiness regardless of our circumstances, another word to help us find contentment even in the midst of great challenges, another to help us not only live differently but be differently. We need a word like… Ahhh

In moments other than now, we cannot be content. Contentment comes now. The king in the previous story learned that peace is only found in the present, no matter what good advice he got for the future, he could only say Ahhh in the present. Hinduism offers a sound, Om. This sound is said to connect us to God, a form of prayer. I haven’t had much success praying Om. However, I have found Ahhh to be quite helpful. For Adam and Eve in the garden, their quest for something more, something else, distanced them from God, I wonder if Ahhh would have helped them see just how close God was. It does for me. Ahhh relaxes me, opens my heart and mind, and creates in me a sense of peace. Joseph Wood Krutch, American naturalist, said, “Happiness is itself a kind of gratitude.” I find in Ahhh a sound, a prayer of gratitude, thanking God for the present moment, the present life, the present breath. Consider your life. Consider this moment right now. Concentrate on your breathing. Feel your chest and stomach move with each breath. Open wide and say, Ahhh. Say it again, Ahhh. Once more, Ahhh.

Moment: Childlike joy: cayla and trash truck:

Seven years, five months, and two days ago, Cayla was born. Before Cayla, I had a terrible fear of holding newborns. I loved children, but newborns scared me to death. We were in the hospital, contractions galore. Another member of the church had just had a baby across the hall. She brought her baby over. Carrie held it. Me? No, I was scared of newborns. Then Cayla was born. “It’s a girl,” I told Carrie with tears in my eyes. I cut the cord. They wrapped her up and placed her in my arms. She fit. Never has anything fit so well as my daughter did in my arms on that day. She brought such joy in my life. 124

We named Cayla, Cayla Joy which means “Pure Joy” and that is what she has given me over some of the simplest things, things which before she was born would annoy me. It doesn’t have to be your child, any child can do that. The best example is the trash truck. Before Cayla, if the trash truck came early, before I woke up, I would curse it under my breath. I would snarl, “trash truck!” But not with Cayla. Seeing the world through her eyes has given me a new perspective on the once cursed trash truck. My daughter, for the first three years of her life, loved the trash truck. She would hear it in the morning if she was already awake, and shout, “Trash truck! Trash truck!” and run for the window to watch the men take our garbage cans alone with our neighbors and hook them to the lift on the truck which mechanically tilted them up and emptied out our garbage into the large loud truck. If Cayla was asleep when the truck rolled into our neighborhood, Cayla would certainly awaken and shout, “Daddy, trash truck!” I would run upstairs and grab her from the bed and we would head to the window. “Daddy, trash truck,” she would say, “trash truck take my diapers.” Before long, I caught her enthusiasm. I too would shout “Trash truck! Trash truck!” and in our neighborhood, we were especially lucky. Not only did the trash truck come around but so did the recycling truck. That was just as much fun to watch because the recycling men would go through our basket and throw the different items into the appropriate bins on the truck. Cayla and I would watch from the window in amazement. We would watch to see who had more, us or our neighbors. I would wonder, how could one family drink that much Coca Cola. The excitement of “Trash truck! Trash truck!” made once ordinary Thursday mornings become Terrific Thursdays. And the enthusiasm didn’t just fill one day a week. No, it began with anticipation the night before as we gathered the trash and took it to the roadside knowing that the trash truck would come in the morning. You would have thought that it was Christmas. When Cayla came into my life, then Abbie, now Nathan, I learned how special the word Daddy is. Daddy is a wonderful word – better than “Mommy.” “Mommy” comes when they want something. “Mommy, I need to… Mommy, she’s hitting me…” But Daddy comes when, “Daddy’s home…Daddy, watch this…” Daddy is a wonderful word and a wonderful role. Sometimes it is difficult. Sometimes it is frustrating. We just bought a van, sure to give them more room, three in the back seat all packed together around car seats was tight, but the real reason we bought a van was to move our children further away from us. Being a parent has already been more heartbreaking, heart wrenching, frightening, frustrating and exhausting than I ever dreamed. Like every role that is important, it has its joys and frustrations. I want to live worthy of that role in the easy and the difficult moments. I want to honor that role with all I have. I want to live my life worthy of that role for Cayla, Abbie and Nathan.

Moment: die to present one for the next: stillness, silence and presence are all a sign you have died to present and are open to new life: Rumi: born again.

Quietness Inside this new love, die. Your way begins on the other side. Become the sky. Take an axe to the prison wall. Escape. Walk out like someone suddenly born into color. Do it now. You are covered with thick cloud. Slide out the side. Die, and be quiet. Quietness is the surest sign that you have died. Your old life was a frantic running from silence. The speechless full moon comes out now.

Moment: distractions: too much information: spinning head

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Imponderables (Imponderables®) (David Feldman) - When you are bored at breakfast, you read cereal boxes. When you are bored on an elevator, you read the elevator-inspection certificate, which in most localities is posted inside the elevator and includes not only emergency procedures, but specified weight and passenger capacities. In most cities, it is a crime or a civil violation to overload an elevator. We've always wondered how these rules are enforced. Do the police conduct spot “weight traps,” corraling unsuspecting hordes and putting them on cattle scales? Do those electric eyes on so-called security elevators actually do head counts, electronically signaling Interpol when there is one too many passengers in an elevator? And what if the police do nab 11 people and 1600 pounds in an elevator designed for 10 people and 1500 pounds? Who is legally responsible? The last person to enter the elevator? The other 10 people, for allowing the illegal eleventh? And if there are only 10 people on the elevator, are you responsible for knowing the weight of your fellow passengers?

Moment: Parenting, more than nice house and yard, Tony Campolo story, image, ‘the grass will grow back,” material things over people, distractions

Tony Campolo tells the story, "There was once a little boy named Mike. When he just was a toddler, he wanted a sand box and his mother said, 'That’ll be good', but his father said, 'There goes the back yard. There’ll be sand all over the place and it will kill the grass.' The little boy’s mother smiled and said back, 'The grass will grow back.' When Mike was 5 he wanted a jungle gym that would enable him to climb into the sky and swings that would take his breath away. His father said, 'If we put that thing in the back yard, every kid in the neighborhood will be over here. They’ll run back and forth, back and forth and they’ll kill the grass.' Mike’s mother smiled and said, 'The grass will grow back.' Between breaths as he was blowing up the plastic swimming pool, Mike’s father said, 'You know what? They’re going to condemn this place and make it into a missile site. You won’t be able to take the garbage out without coming back with mud up to your neck. It’s going to kill the grass.' And Mike’s mother smiled and said, 'The grass will grow back.' When Mike was 12, he volunteered his yard for a campout. When the neighborhood boys drilled the spikes into the ground and stomped around with their big feet, Mike’s father looked out the window and said, 'Why don’t I just save myself the trouble and put the grass seed in cereal bowls ... I know, I know, the grass will grow back.' The basketball hoop on the side of the garage drew a bigger crowd than the summer Olympics. The barren spot under the hoop got larger and larger until it encompassed the whole side yard. And just when it looked as though new grass was going to take root, winter came, snow fell, and sled runners beat the grass into the ground. Mike’s father said, 'Lord, I never asked for much in this life, just a few crummy blades of grass.' Mike’s mother smiled and said, 'The grass will grow back.' ... Well the grass this year was beautiful. It rolled out like a carpet, like a green sponge out along the driveway where bicycles once fell, out along the flowerbeds where little boys once dug with tea spoons, but Mike’s father never saw the grass. Instead his eyes were lifted beyond the yard and he said with a catch in his voice, 'He will come back, he will come back, he will come back, won’t he?'To lay down my life in love may mean its end, that my life is over, but to lay down my life, may mean:

Moment: serenity prayer: strawberry and tigers Sophia was walking along one day when a tiger started to chase her. Running from the tiger, she hurried along the edge of a cliff and fell over. Part way down, she grabbed a vine stopping her fall. She looked above and saw the tiger looking over the edge at her. She looked below, and there was another tiger at the bottom.

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The vine she was holding onto started to pull from the side of the cliff. She noticed a strawberry growing on the vine. She pulled it and ate. It tasted very sweet.

Moment: what do you bring with you: perspective: try and change the world or how you approach it? Carlos Castaneda and RANDY Pausch last lecture: be an Eeyore or a Tigger

Joy is something you bring. As Carlos Castaneda said,

The trick (in life) is in what one emphasizes. We either make ourselves miserable, or we make ourselves happy. The amount of work is the same.

I learned the power of making yourself happy as a camp counselor years ago. I looked out across the camp one rainy afternoon as forty elementary age children sat on the porch of the lodge, looking at the rain which had thwarted their agenda for afternoon fun, while, on the field, covered in mud, were ten children, splashing, playing, laughing kicking around a soccer ball unhindered by the weather. The day offered one climate, but the children chose two very different responses. At that moment, I knew I wanted to foster in my own children the ability to make themselves happy; I wanted to parent children who play in the rain. Randy Pausch began his famous Last Lecture telling of his diagnosis,

If you look at my CAT scans, there are approximately 10 tumors in my liver, and the doctors told me 3-6 months of good health left. That was a month ago, so you can do the math… So that is what it is. We can’t change it, and we just have to decide how we’re going to respond to that. We cannot change the cards we are dealt, just how we play the hand.

Pausch goes on to say later in the lecture,

…you just have to decide if you’re a Tigger or an Eyeore. I think I’m clear on where I stand on the Tigger/Eyore debate. Never lose the childlike wonder. It’s just too important.

Let me give you a little example from A.A. Milne’s books on the contrast between Tigger people and Eyeore people. Eyeores, like Moses on the mount, look at life through the glasses of gloom. Eyeores are gloomy about themselves,

Eeyore, the old grey Donkey, stood by the side of the stream, and looked at himself in the water. "Pathetic," he said. "That's what it is. Pathetic." He turned and walked slowly down the stream for twenty yards, splashed across it, and walked slowly back on the other side. Then he looked at himself in the water again. "As I thought," he said. "No better from this side. But nobody minds. Nobody cares. Pathetic, that's what it is."

Eyeores are gloomy about life,

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"Good morning, Eeyore," said Pooh. "Good morning, Pooh Bear," said Eeyore gloomily. "If it is a good morning, which I doubt," said he. "Why, what's the matter?" "Nothing, Pooh Bear, nothing. We can't all, and some of us don't. That's all there is to it." "Can't all what?" said Pooh, rubbing his nose. "Gaiety. Song-and-dance. Here we go round the mulberry bush."

Eyeores are so gloomy, even at their happiest, they bring no joy, only a little less gloom.

"It's snowing still," said Eeyore gloomily. "So it is." "And freezing." "Is it?" "Yes," said Eeyore. "However," he said, brightening up a little, "we haven't had an earthquake lately."

Finally, Eeyores have a tremendous dislike for Tiggers.

Eeyore walked all round Tigger one way, and then turned and walked round him the other way. "What did you say it was?" he asked. "Tigger." "Ah!" said Eeyore. "He's just come," explained Piglet. "Ah!" said Eeyore again. He thought for a long time and then said: "When is he going?"

On the other hand, Tiggers have a tremendous capacity for bringing joy to whatever situation they find themselves in.

“Oh, there you are Tigger!" said Christopher Robin. "I knew you'd be somewhere." "I've been finding things in the Forest," said Tigger importantly. "I've found a pooh and a piglet and an eeyore, but I can't find any breakfast." Pooh and Piglet came up and hugged Christopher Robin, and explained what had been happening. "Don't you know what Tiggers like?" asked Pooh. "I expect if I thought very hard I should," said Christopher Robin, "But I thought Tigger knew." "I do," said Tigger. "Everything there is in the world except honey and haycorns and what were those things called?" "Thistles." "Yes, and those."

Tiggers like everything, almost. Tiggers are so confident that no matter how bad something may go, they can make joy from it.

“There's no difference between plunging 10,00 feet to the jagged rocks below and falling out of bed,” said Tigger. “Oh, really?” asked Piglet “Sure,” Tiger replied, “except for the splat at the end they're practically similar."

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Walt Disney saw the difference in people, he built the parks to give Tiggers a place to play. Disney said,

Why do we have to grow up? I know more adults who have the children's approach to life. They're people who don't give a hang what the Joneses do. You see them at Disneyland every time you go there. They are not afraid to be delighted with simple pleasures…

Disney saw people in the park who kept Tiggers’ child-like sense of joy in their lives. I’m confident he didn’t even have to look as far as the rides. They are easy to spot. I have a theory. See if you don’t agree. Next time you go to Disney World, an amusement park, movie, or any place with a large group, watch the people in line. My thesis is, you can tell who will enjoy the park or event the most by watching them while they wait. People who have the most fun in line will likely have the most fun on the ride, at the show, or the event. I believe the converse is also true, those who are the most miserable in line will likely enjoy the ride, the show, or the event the least. This is no new theory, more than fifty years before Walt Disney set up his first ride, Kahlil Gilbran observed, “The appearance of things changes according to our emotions and though we see magic and beauty in them, the magic and beauty are really in us.” People who go to Disney who have magic in themselves experience magic there, just as people who go to the grocery store who have magic in themselves experience magic at the grocery store. The principle is simple: fun, joy, and happiness, are something we bring to life, not something life, circumstance, or situation bring to us. There are truly no magic kingdoms, only magic people. Fun, joy and happiness are choices, orientations, approaches, attitudes, a way of living in the world, not the world itself, as Ella Wheeler Wilcox pointed out in The Winds of Fate.

One ship drives east and another drives west With the selfsame winds that blow. ‘Tis the set of the sails And not the gales Which tells us the way to go.

Like the winds of the sea are the ways of fate, As we voyage along through life: ‘Tis the set of a soul That decides its goal, And not the calm or strife.

The world, the winds that blow, our situation, seldom come as we would like, but we can always choose our response. Aldous Huxley said, “Experience is not what happens to a man. It is what a man does with what happens to him.” Life’s joy is all in the choosing. If you’ve been waiting for your circumstances, your destiny, your world to change so that you can have joy, stop it! Quit waiting! Joy-bringing power is in you. You can bring Tiggerish fun, joy, and happiness, to your life. So, whatever your journey, whatever your day, whatever bag you are carrying, pack joy! Pack it today! Wait no longer, your day has come. Your time is now. You aren’t Cinderella hoping that someday your prince will come. Your prince has come. It is you! The power is yours. Not in someone else’s hands, not in some legendary glass slipper, but the power is in you. If you want joy in your life, bring joy! 129

from The Jungle Book

Baloo:All you've got to do is... Look for the bare necessities The simple bare necessities Forget about your worries and your strife I mean the bare necessities, Are Mother Nature's recipes That bring the bare necessities of life Wherever I wander Wherever I roam I couldn't be fonder Of my big home The bees are buzzing in the tree To make some honey just for me When you look under the rocks and plants And take a glance at the fancy ants Then maybe try a few... Mowgli:You eat ants? Baloo:Ha-ha, you better believe it! And you're gonna love the way they tickle…

Moment: world is good not perfect, it’s alright, DeMello

Anthony De Mello in Awareness wrote of how illusions can cause pain: Anytime you have a negative feeling toward anyone, you’re living in an illusion. There’s something seriously wrong with you. You’re not seeing reality. Something inside of you has to change. But what do we generally do when we have a negative feeling? “He is to blame, she is to blame. She’s got to change” No! The world’s all right. The one who has to change is you.35 According to De Mello, the Bible begins with an affirmation, “The world is all right.” In the first chapter of Genesis, when God creates the world, God calls the world, “Good.” God’s declaration of ‘good’ for the world doesn’t mean perfect, flawless, without challenge, chaos free, or pure but all right, okay, satisfactory and satisfying. So, for us to live at peace in the world, we must accept the world as is. If there is something we want to have different in the world, altering the world we live in begins by accepting it as is. Then you can be present. To be present in the world as is takes overcoming the barriers within. De Mello gives some simple steps toward living in the world. The first thing you need to do is get in touch with negative feelings that you’re not even aware of. Lots of people have negative feelings they’re not aware of. Lots of people are depressed and they’re not aware they are depressed. It’s only when they make contact with joy that they understand how depressed they were… The second step…is to understand that the feeling is in you, not in reality… Negative feelings are in you, not in reality. So stop trying to change reality. That’s crazy! Stop trying to change the other person. We spend all our time and energy trying to change external circumstances, trying to change our

35 Pg. 51 130 spouses, our bosses, our friends, our enemies, and everybody else. We don’t have to change anything. Negative feelings are in you. No person on earth has the power to make you unhappy. There is no event on earth that has the power to disturb you or hurt you. No event, condition, situation, or person…

With others, share their perspective, moment: joy: Cayla and trash truck: child likeness, way, One of the best lessons I have gotten was from my eldest daughter, Cayla, who taught me to appreciate trash trucks.Before Cayla, I hated trash trucks because trash trucks come early in the morning. My attitude was shaped in my college days at Clemson, when, while sleeping in the dorm, the trash truck would come with the sunrise, pick up the huge metal containers, bang them loudly, crash them down and then back up. Backing up was the worst because of that hideous “beep beep beep” when the truck went in reverse. I could not get the pillow tight enough around my head. For years, long after college, when the trash truck would come into our neighborhood, I would curse it under my breath. I would snarl, “Trash truck!” But not with Cayla. She showed me a better way. She converted me. She showed me the beauty of trash truck love. I began to love the trash truck when Cayla was around two years old, because she loved the trash truck. She would hear the trash truck in the morning, and, if she was already awake, she would shout, “Trash truck! Trash truck!” and run for the window to watch the men take our garbage cans. If asleep when the truck rolled into our neighborhood, Cayla would wake up and shout, “Daddy, trash truck!” She would wait for me to run upstairs, grab her from the bed, and carry her to the window. “Daddy, trash truck,” she would say. My experience changed because my perception changed. I caught her enthusiasm. I too shouted “Trash truck! Trash truck!” If I would hear the truck coming, I would go and wake her up. I would say, “Cayla,” and she would hardly move (to this day not an early riser without cause). I would whisper, “Trash truck” and she would sit up, reach out her arms to me, hold on tight, and we would run to the window. The excitement of “Trash truck! Trash truck!” made once ordinary Thursday mornings become Terrific Thursdays. The enthusiasm didn’t just fill one day a week. No, it began with a Christmas-like anticipation the night before as we gathered the trash and took it to the roadside knowing that the trash truck would come in the morning. In equal excitement to the potential arrival of St. Nick, Cayla would say, “Daddy, trash truck is coming to take my diapers.” The kingdom of heaven belongs to such as her. She has been a great teacher for me. So often now do I try and experience the kingdom of heaven through this simple skill I learned from my children – you want to experience the kingdom? Then see the kingdom…first.

Moment: your perspective, not outside world, It is Well With My Soul

Horatio Spafford was a successful businessman in Chicago. The fire in 1871 which wiped out much of Chicago took a lot of his wealth. He helped rebuild the city and worked with many who were left homeless in the disaster. A couple of years later, he arranged for him and his family to go on a vacation to Europe. At the last minute, business kept him in Chicago, but he sent his family on ahead. The ship his family was traveling on was hit by another boat. Only a fifth of the crew survived. His wife alone of his family survived. Their four daughters died. When she reached Europe, she cabled back, “Saved alone. What shall I do?” Horatio immediately started for Europe. On the way, the captain pointed out the place where he believed Horatio’s daughters had died. Horatio returned to his cabin, and began writing the hymn, “It is Well.” When peace, like a river, attendeth my way, 131

when sorrows like sea billows roll; whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say, It is well, it is well with my soul.

John 16:33 “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” (NIV) Like Buddha, Jesus tells his hearers that in this world there are troubles. This isn’t to be a surprise, but instead good news. Once we accept this life has problems, we can turn away from denial of life’s difficulties and accept them. In acceptance, we find peace. Jesus also said, John 14: 27 Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid. Jesus’ faith didn’t give him a life free from pain. When he said this to his followers, he was headed toward the cross. Though I’m confident you won’t be nailed to a cross, I am also confident you will have your struggles, ranging from potential coffee stains to concentration camps; how you will respond will shape your experience and possibly the world. It begins with you, and with your expectations. Do you expect troubles? Do Jesus’ words ‘in this world you will have troubles’ sound like good news to you?

Mystery: Language falls short: Winnie the Pooh

Here is where I want to bring in a master of language, the writer A.A.Milne. Milne’s famous work is Winnie the Pooh. I would like to read for you two excerpts from introductions to his Pooh books. In the Introduction to The House at Pooh Corner, A.A. Milne wrote, An INTRODUCTION is to introduce people, but Christopher Robin and his friends, who have already been introduced to you, are now' going to say Good-bye. So this is the opposite. When we asked Pooh what the opposite of an “Introduction” was, he said "The what of a what?" which didn't help us as much as we had hoped, but luckily Owl kept his head and told us that the opposite of an Introduction, my dear Pooh, was a Contradiction; and, as he is very good at long words, I am sure that that's what it is. Why is the writing of books endless? It is clear here. The writing of books is endless because we use words to speak of what we don’t know. People in general, like to appear knowledgeable. We pretend to know. We use words less to speak wisdom than to appear wise. Instead of admitting ignorance, we use words to pretend to know what we don’t know. Owl kept his head and told us that the opposite of an Introduction, my dear Pooh, was a Contradiction; and, as he is very good at long words, I am sure that that's what it is. And in the Introduction to Winnie the Pooh, Milne wrote, (to set the stage, Piglet is feeling left out with all the writing about Pooh). I had written as far as this when Piglet looked up and said in his squeaky voice, "What about Me?" "My dear Piglet," I said, "the whole book is about you." "So it is about Pooh," he squeaked. You see what it is. He is jealous because he thinks Pooh is having a Grand Introduction all to himself. Pooh is the (popular one), of course, there's no denying it, but Piglet comes in for a good many things which Pooh misses; because you can't take Pooh to school without everybody knowing it, but Piglet is so small that he slips into a' pocket, where it is very comfortable to feel him when you are not quite sure whether twice seven is twelve or twenty-two. Sometimes he slips out and has a good look in the ink-pot, and in this way he has got more education than Pooh, but Pooh doesn't mind. Some have brains, and some haven't, he says, and there it is.

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Mystery: smart: know: Scott peck and images: language: “I don’t know.” hard to say: Doctors

Author Scott Peck tells of a time in medical school when the chairman of the department of neurology was putting on a presentation. A patient stood with the doctor in front of an amphitheater full of medical students. The doctor then proceeded to show where the man was suffering from a lesion in his cerebellum, another in the upper end of his spinal cord and another down the lower end. The students were very impressed, but at the end of the presentation one student asked. “Sir, why does this man have these lesions? What’s wrong with him?” The chairman of the department of neurology stuck out his chest and declared, “This patient is suffering from idiopathic neuropathy.” “Ahh,” replied the students nodding their heads pretending they understood. “Idiopathic neuropathy, hmmm.” After they left the amphitheater, they ran back to their rooms and looked up idiopathic neuropathy and discovered that idiopathic means “of unknown cause.” So idiopathic neuropathy means a disease of the nervous system of unknown cause.

Mystery: tradition points to unknown doesn’t capture it: Rabbi fire Knowing: pastor as spiritual leader:

What I love about that use of language is that even at best guess, whether twice seven is twelve or twenty-two – our best guesses fall short of truth. When the great rabbi Baal Shem-Tov felt that his people were threatened, he would go to a secret part of the forest to meditate. There he would light a special fire, say a special prayer, and the disaster would be averted. When his successor faced similar circumstances, he would go to the same place in the forest and pray: “Great Master of the Universe, I do not know how to light the special fire, but I am able to say the special prayer, and this must be sufficient.” It was and the disaster was averted. When his successor faced difficult times, he would go to the special place in the forest on behalf of his people and pray: “Great Master of the Universe I do not know how to light the fire, I do not know how to say the prayer, but I know the place, and this must be sufficient.” It was sufficient, and the disaster was once again averted. When it fell to his successor to deal with the misfortune of his people, he sat in his armchair with palms uplifted. “Great Master of the Universe,” he prayed, “I am unable to light the special fire, I do not know the prayer, I cannot even find the place in the forest, but I can tell the story, and this must be sufficient.” And it was.

Nationalism: violence

A veteran then told about coming upon a German soldier sitting on the ground with his back against a tree. He wasn’t wounded. He was just too tired to go on. He was totally dissipated. There was nothing left in the way of will power. He was too listless and tired to resist anything or anyone. The man telling the story said, “As I aimed my gun at him, he asked me to wait a moment. Speaking in English, he told me he wanted a chance to pray before he died. I immediately sat down with him as I realized that he was a Christian brother. We talked about our families. I showed him pictures of my children. He showed me photographs of his family. We read some Scripture together. It was wonderful.” My friend asked, “Well? What did you do?” When the man didn’t answer, my friend kept 133 pressing. “What did you do? What did you do?” The man said, “I stood up, aimed the gun at him, and said, ‘You’re a Christian and I’m a Christian. I’ll see you in heaven.’ And I shot him!” (Tony Campolo)

Openness to life’s experience: Jennifer Paine Welwood’s Unconditional

Jennifer Paine Welwood’s Unconditional as your creed.

Willing to experience aloneness, I discover connection everywhere; Turning to face my fear, I meet the warrior who lives within; Opening to my loss, I gain the embrace of the universe; Surrendering into emptiness, I find fullness without end. Each condition I flee from pursues me, Each condition I welcome transforms me And becomes itself transformed Into its radiant jewel-like essence.

Pain, Gethsemane, Where is God, presence of God

I want to tell you the story of a concert pianist, Katherine Linda Cutting. Katherine grew up in an abusive family. Her father, a minister, on a regular basis, sexually, physically, and emotionally abused her. As adults, she and her brothers each tried to deal with the abuse they had grown up with. Her brothers committed suicide. She had a nervous breakdown. She writes of going to a group in the hospital. The group I attend today is the group I’ve avoided for the whole month I’ve been in the hospital: Source, a spiritual resource group. The leader, Kathleen Adams, is trying to help us imagine God in whatever way we can, knowing that each of us has felt in her own way that if there ever was a God, He turned his back a long time ago. At first I feel alone and out of place. Kathleen asks us to find a word that means God to us. I have always felt closest to God in a wordless way. When I hear music – a string quartet, a bird’s song, the lap of the ocean against the shore, I’ve felt God there. When I look at the sunset in all its striations of color, or the shower of stars at night, I’ve felt God there. But we are only allowed to write one word. The word I write is ‘truth’. I do believe that God is truth, I say, and that someday the truth will be clear for all of us, the way the full moon makes a dark night clear, and the way the dawn comes clearly day after day. Sarah, who’s been going to AA meetings for twenty-five years says “higherpower” as if it is one word. Sherry says “woman.” She says “For sure God is a woman.” Alice, the blind woman, says, “comfort.” To her, that’s what God is. I envy her. I cannot say comfort and have it mean God. Kathleen asks us to write about what we wish God meant to us. I write out a part of the Twenty- third Psalm I memorized when I was five: “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…” but I cannot write the part about the rod and the staff that comfort me because they don’t. Instead, I write what is true for me: 134

“Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I don’t have to stay. Soon I’ll be walking out of here. I will probably fear everything, but God will go with me. My dog and my piano will comfort me.

In your bulletin is the 23rd Psalm. Probably the most popular piece of scripture in the world. There is comfort here. There is hope for Gethsemane. In the Psalm, God is referred to in the third person as He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness but when we come to the valley of the shadow of death, the tense changes. God becomes you, 4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. The hope is that even Gethsemane strips you of what security you thought you had. Even though it confuses you. Even though God is silent, God is still there. Say it with me as an affirmation of faith. 1 The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. 2He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.3He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. 4Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. 5Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. 6Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.

Pain, life, Church problems, cry room

Charles Poole, a Baptist minister, walked over to his Catholic neighbor to borrow a book. He entered the narthex to the sanctuary and saw a little metal sign, black with two words painted in white, “CRY ROOM”. That was all it said. “CRY ROOM”. The “Cry Room” is a little room off the sanctuary in which young families can take their babies while viewing the mass. In the cry room, babies can cry and make other baby-type noises without being heard by the rest of the congregation. The cry room is made for crying. What the Baptist minister said is this, “I often think about that sign, standing at a sanctuary door, pointing the way to a room where it’s alright to cry. I have about decided that maybe there ought to be a little sign that says CRY ROOM out front at every church everywhere. And it ought to point, not to a side room for little people, but to the main room for big people, After all, big people need a cry room most of all. Big people need a cy room: a place to confess their deepest guilt, ask their toughest questions, tell their darkest stories. Big people need a cry room: a place where they can find help with all the heavy luggage of their unhealed diseases, their unrealized ambitions, their unresolved mysteries, and their unfulfilled hopes. Big people need a cry room. Maybe there ought to be a little sign that says CRY ROOM keeping vigil outside the door of every sanctuary everywhere. The sanctuary of the church must always and ever be a cry room for big people…a place where the shoulder –stooping, sleep –robbing, heart breaking fears, shames, and hurts of life are voiced, not silence; acknowledged, not denied. The sanctuary of the church must always and ever be a cry room for big people…where folks who limp through the narthex, bludgeoned by the hard twists and turns of life, can rest up, heal up and hear – all over again – the gospel of grace and hope.

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Pain, life, scars, Doug Brown Dr. Story, united by pain and past not righteousness or perfection

Doug Brown, part of this congregation, spends a few days, every other week, working at a non- profit community health center in Appalachia. On of the doctors there is Dr. David McCray. He had this encounter with a patient. David was behind schedule yet again the day he saw her. This encounter began the way most do, “Hi. I’m Dr. McRay. I’m sorry I’m running late.” She said very little in response. Was she shy? angry? nervous? quickly awakening from a brief nap? When he can, David tries to determine which of these common reactions is most descriptive as he faces the challenging task of establishing an exam room relationship with a new patient. On this day, he did not have the time for even this very elementary attempt to personalize the encounter. At least, he did not take the time. David glanced quickly at her chart. His nurse had entered all the critical information (or so he assumed) into the database on the ultrasound machine's computer. The patient was twenty-seven years old and pregnant for the fifth time. She came for prenatal care so late in the pregnancy – thirty- two weeks -- because she had been on the road with truck drivers. She had seen one of the other doctors for her initial examine. The partner had discovered that her fundal height was considerably smaller than anticipated based on the date of her last menstrual period. So he asked David to examine her. David found the patient seated on the edge of the procedure table. As he turned off the lights, he asked her to lie down. After sitting down on the stool between the machine and her bed, he placed a sheet over her hips and legs, tucking the edge over the top of her slacks. As he began to reposition the lower edge of her blouse just above the top of her womb so he could apply the ultrasound gel, she spoke her first complete sentence in the few moments they had been together – “I have a lot of scars.”

David did not hesitate much, if at all. He was still in a hurry. He had seen abdominal scars before. Even at her young age, multiple surgeries are not uncommon. Gallbladder removal, appendectomy, exploratory surgery for pelvic pain -- each leaves a fairly characteristic mark. Sometimes surgical wounds do not heal well. Unsightly scars from past surgeries, while a reason for concern and embarrassment for a young woman, are not of any particular clinical significance. Whatever the cosmetic result, scars rarely merit more than a brief notation in the chart – “abdominal scars consistent with past surgical history”. David expected little else. He was mistaken. What David saw, faintly in the darkened room, caused him to pause. Her entire abdomen was covered by a disordered maze of curved and straight lines. “A bad burn,” he thought. “The body looks this way after multiple skin grafts. I wonder if she was in an accident several years before. These are obviously old scars. They will probably make the ultrasound more difficult due to shadowing from the abnormal skin tissue. But they should not otherwise hinder getting a good scan.”David resumed his preparations. While covering her wounds with the ultrasound gel, he tried to obtain a little more information -- “Were you in a car accident, or . . . .” She did not let him finish. Very matter-of-factly, without a hint of emotion, she gave David much more insight than he had intended to ask for – “My mother set me on fire when I was three.”

In the intimate space of an exam room, she shared her secret. At the well, Jesus told the woman. “I know.”

Pain: open to in Imperfect Paradise The Imperfect Paradise 136

Linda Pastan

If God had stopped work after the fifth day With Eden full of vegetables and fruits, If oak and lilac held exclusive sway Over a kingdom made of stems and roots, If landscape were the genius of creation And neither man nor serpent played a role And God must look to wind for lamentation And not to picture postcards of the soul, Would he have rested on his bank of cloud With nothing in the universe to lose, Or would he hunger for a human crowd? Which would a wise and just creator choose: The green hosannas of a budding leaf Or the strict contract between love and grief?

Pain: Why me? Bad things happen, blessing, subway story, Life, why not you?

parenting, punishment and rewards, Kohn

Kohn points out that that’s the gear of most parenting books Don’t be afraid to Discipline: Parents in Charge: Parents in Control; Taking Charge: Back in Control: Disciplining Your Preschooler – and Feeling Good About It, ‘Cause I’m the Mommy, That’s Why; Parenting books tend to be: “How do we get children to set aside their god given right to make choices and do what we say?” Parenting is something we do “To” children. If you do this, then I will give you this… Gold stars, stickers, trips to the toy box… According to Alfie Kohn, rewarding is a lot like punishment. Focuses not on choice but on control. Punishment is do this or else I will… Reward is if you do this I will… Much of school is designed within our culture to raise up rule-obeying role-taking children so they can be rule-obeying role-taking adults. Industry. Consumer. Compliance is dangerous Compliant children often leave mom and dad to be compliant to their peers Recognize you have to say “no” to say “yes”. kids don’t say “no” to drugs say “no” to people offering you drugs. Change our orientation. From a control orientation to a choice orientation. Choose and let choose! Parents, teens always have a choice. You can’t tell a kid he can’t. Alfie Kohn, “Hits another. Go to room. “I see hitting is wrong.” “I hate my sister,” “Watch how I’m going to get her when I’m not looking.” Punishment doesn’t focus kids on the relationships but on the punishment. “I don’t want to catch you doing that again.” “Okay, next time you won’t catch me.” 137

You can’t tell a teen you can’t sneak out at night – guess what, they can. Recognize it. Work with them on their power to choose without giving up yours. Nathan, six years old, “I don’t want to go to sleep.” “Okay, stay up all night. but you have to in your bed.” “You have to go – you can have a good time or a bad time, its up to you.” If they fight, begin with, “I chose…” Let kids choose. Let kids think. “Dad the moon is following us.” You can choose to correct. Or you can choose to let them think. “You think so?” “Yeah.” Perception: wonder In the previous chapter, the primary concept was that people or events don’t bother us, but instead our perceptions of them can. The example was in the life of Herod, who wasn’t bothered by Jesus, but instead his perception of Jesus was what troubled Herod. In this chapter, we’ll look at the other polar end of this concept and how not only is trouble based in our perceptions, but so are wonder, awe, and joy. For example, some students were asked to list what they thought were the “Seven Wonders of the World.” Though there were some disagreements, the following received the most votes from the class: 1. Egypt’s Great Pyramids 2. Grand Canyon 3. The Ocean 4. The Great Wall of China 5. Eiffel Tower 6. The Internet 7. Taj Mahal While gathering the votes, the teacher noted that one student had not finished her paper yet. So she asked the girl if she was having trouble with her list. The girl replied, “Yes, a little. I couldn’t quite make up my mind because there were so many.” The teacher said, “Well, tell us what you have, and maybe we can help.” The girl hesitated, then read, “I think the ‘Seven Wonders of the World’ are: 1. to see ... 2. to hear ... 3. to touch ... 4. to taste ... 5. to feel ... 6. to laugh ... 7. and to love...” Wonder is in the eyes of the beholder. It is not just how we see life that bothers us (or not), but also how we see life that amazes us (or not). Read the following passage. Who is lifted up by Jesus as a role model to follow? Why do you think Jesus points her out?

Nothing is miserable unless you think it is so. – Boethius Experience is not what happens to a man. It is what a man does with what happens to him. – Aldous Huxley The appearance of things change according to the emotions and thus we see magic and beauty in them, while the magic and beauty are really in ourselves.– Kahlil Gilbran No life is so hard that you can’t make it easier by the way you take it. – Ellen Glasgow 138

You can complain because roses have thorns, or you can rejoice because thorns have roses. – Ziggy The trick is in what one emphasizes. We either make ourselves miserable, or we make ourselves happy. The amount of work is the same. – Carlos Castaneda

Perspective: Awake

Blessed are your eyes, for they see, and your ears, for they hear. Jesus (Matthew 13:16)

I had a dream that I was awake, and I woke up to find myself asleep. Stan Laurel

Proverbs 6:9, How long will you lie there, O lazybones? When will you rise from your sleep? A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest, and poverty will come upon you like a robber, and want, like an armed warrior.

Ephesians 5:14, Sleeper, awake! Rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.

I do not know how to distinguish between our waking life and a dream. Are we not always living the life that we imagine we are? Henry David Thoreau

“Sophia, what’s the opposite of intelligence?” a student asked. “Ignorance,” she replied. “Then what is the opposite of wisdom?” “Ignore-ance.”

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One day, Sophia walked out onto a sidewalk, stood still, and waited. A man, head down, not paying attention, walked right into her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Wake up!” she yelled. “I didn’t mean to bump…” “Wake up!” she yelled again. He looked at her sternly, “Do I know you?” “Don’t you?” she asked. 139

“I…” “Wake up!” she yelled again. The man walked quickly around her and ran on down the street. Sophia stood in the middle of the sidewalk and waited.

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“Sophia, why do you pray?” asked the skeptic. “Do you pray to make the sun come up?” “No,” replied Sophia, “I pray so that when the sun comes up I will be awake to see it.”

“Sophia, what is your religious practice?” a student asked. “I sit, I walk, and I eat,” she replied. “But, Sophia, everyone sits, walks and eats.” “Ahh,” she said, “but when I sit, I know I am sitting. When I walk, I know I am walking. And when I eat, I know I am eating.”

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“Sophia, what are you?” a student asked. “What do you mean?” she asked. “Are you Buddhist?” “No,” she answered. “Are you Jewish?” “No,” she replied. “Christian?” “No.” “Muslim?” “No.” “Hindu?” “No.” “Then what?” the frustrated student asked. “I am a mind awake,” Sophia replied.

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Sophia was asked to speak to the students of a local medical school. “Sophia, what do we need to be better doctors?” the students asked. “Doctors,” Sophia said, “need strong stomachs and strong powers of observation.” Then she opened a canister. The putrid smell quickly moved through the classroom. Sophia stuck a finger in the jar, pulled it up, and then licked it. She passed the jar around encouraging each doctor in training to do the same. Each did, and though many felt nauseas, no one got sick. “You all have very strong stomachs,” she said. “But your powers of observation need some work.” “What do you mean?” they asked. “We did just what you did.” “There is one difference,” she replied. “The finger I dipped in the jar was not the finger I licked.”

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“How can I find enlightenment?” the student asked Sophia. 140

“You really want to know?” Sophia asked. “Yes, desperately,” the student said. Sophia looked one way, then the other, and when certain no one was in sight, she leaned close to the student and whispered, “You must learn the secret act.” “What is the secret act?” the student asked whispering. “This,” Sophia said and she closed her eyes then opened them.

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A woman approached her husband. “What’s different about me?” she asked. “New shoes,” he replied. “No.” “New dress.” “No.” “I give up.” “I’m wearing an elephant costume.”

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A young widower, who loved his five year old son very much, was away on business when bandits burned down his village and took his son away. When the man returned, he saw the ruins of his town, his home, and was devastated. Scavenging through the ruins near his home, he found the charred remains of a small body he assumed to be his son. He grieved, held a funeral, and buried the remains. Daily he went to the graveside, and nightly he cried alone. Months later, his real son escaped from the bandits and found his way home. He arrived at his father's new cottage at midnight and knocked at the door. The father, still grieving asked, “Who is it?” The child answered, “It is me papa, open the door!” But, convinced his son was dead, the father shouted, “Go away” and continued to cry. After some time, the child left. Father and son never saw each other again.

Perspective: choice: fine

“How are you today, Sophia?” a man asked. “I am so fine,” she replied. “Why are you so fine?” he asked. “Because I choose to be,” she replied.

Perspective: images:

All experience is preceded by mind, Led by mind, Made by mind,

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The Dhammapada (translated by Gil Fronsdale)

Let us not look back in anger or forward in fear, but around in awareness. James Thurber

Perspective: With Others: Practical help with nightmares, cut legs off bed

A man went to see the village counselor. “Here’s my problem. Every night when I go to bed, I am so afraid there are monsters under my bed that I can’t sleep. I know they aren’t real, but I can’t convince myself they are not there. It is so bad, I even tried sleeping under my bed, but then I was certain there were monsters on top and still couldn’t sleep. What can I do?” “I think I can help you,” said the counselor. “Go buy these different roots and berries, take them twice a day, and come see me three times a week, in three years, I think I can cure you.” “I have no other choice,” the man said, “sign me up.” But then the man didn’t come back, so the counselor went to his home. “I thought you were going to begin treatment.” “I was,” the man said. “But now I’m sleeping fine.” “What made the difference?” “Well, after I talked to you, I went to see Sophia. I told her my problem. She came to my house. Then she cut the legs off my bed.”

Pride: Making a name for himself, superiority

In Book 9 of Homer's Odyssey, during the titular character's journey home, Odysseus lands on the Island of the Cyclops. He then takes twelve other men and sets out to find supplies. The Greeks find a large cave. They enter and proceed to feast on roasting sheep they find there. Unknown to them, the cave is the home of the Cyclops Polyphemus, who soon returns home to find Odysseus and his men there. The Cyclops then rolls a great stone in front of the entrance to his cave, trapping the Greeks within. Odysseus then devises a very clever escape plan, true to his character throughout the Iliad and the Odyssey. To make Polyphemus unwary Odysseus gave the Cyclops very strong unwatered wine. When Polyphemus asks for Odysseus' name, Odysseus tells him "ουτις," a name which is translated as "Noman" or "Nobody," but which has been used allusively by later authors. Once the giant passes out from the wine, Odysseus and his men sharpen the giant's club to a point and harden its tip in the embers of the giant's own fire. Several men lift the stake - which is made from olive wood and large as a ship's mast - and destroy Polyphemus' only eye. He yells out to his fellow Cyclops that "Noman" ("Nohbody" in Robert Fitzgerald's translation) hurt him; the others take this to mean that Polyphemus has lost his mind, because he was saying "nobody" attacked him. They also conclude his condition is a curse from a god, and so they do not intervene. In the morning, Odysseus ties his men and himself to the undersides of Polyphemus' sheep. When the Cyclops lets the sheep out to graze, he feels their backs to ensure the men aren't riding out, but doesn't feel the men underneath. Odysseus in the cave of Polyphemus, Jacob Jordaens, first half of 17th century Once the sheep (and men) are safely out, Polyphemus realizes that the men aren't in his cave. As Odysseus and his men sail away, he boasts to Polyphemus that "Noman didn't hurt you, Odysseus did!" Unfortunately, Odysseus didn't realize that Polyphemus was the son of Poseidon; Odysseus had already earned the enmity of that god, by defiling his temple in Troy and devising the sack of Troy, a city that held Poseidon in greatest esteem (although Poseidon had largely fought on the side of the

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Greeks during the Iliad). Polyphemus then casts a curse upon Odysseus, spiced with a hefty rock that he throws after the ship; for this, Poseidon causes Odysseus a great deal of trouble throughout the rest of the Odyssey. Aristotle defined hubris as follows:to cause shame to the victim not in order that anything may happen to you, nor because anything has happened to you, but merely for your own gratification. Hubris is not the requital of past injuries; this is revenge. As for the pleasure in hubris, its cause is this: men think that by ill-treating others they make their own superiority the greater.[1]

Pride: Samurai full cup A samurai went to see Sophia. “I am a master of war. I want to learn to be a master of peace.” “You want to master peace?” Sophia asked the samurai. “Yes,” said the samurai. “Great,” said Sophia. “First, let’s have a cup of tea.” The two knelt at the table. Sophia put out two cups. First, one to the samurai and then one to herself, then she started filling the samurai’s cup. She poured until it overflowed, over the brim, onto the table and then onto the samurai. All the while, Sophia hummed a tune. The samurai felt insulted. He jumped up, drew his sword and raised it over his head to strike Sophia. Then she said, “You are not ready to learn the way of peace. You are not ready to learn at all. You are like this cup. You are so full of yourself that you have no room to learn anything.”

Property and spaces: holy moments: more about holy times and encounters than holy spaces.

Exodus 3: 3 Then Moses said, “I must turn aside and look at this great sight, and see why the bush is not burned up.” 4 When the LORD saw that he had turned aside to see, God called to him out of the bush, “Moses, Moses!” And he said, “Here I am.” 5 Then he said, “Come no closer! Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.”

There was nothing special about the ground which made it holy, no composition, no special sand brought in from heaven; it was like the ground underneath your house, beneath the road you drive, all over the park at Disney. Just ground. Dirt. And that, my friends, is good news. Churches are built on this simple good news about Holy Ground as Frederick Beuchner wrote…

The old church walls, the old church roofs, were put up in the faith that if God is present anywhere in the world, he is present everywhere, and that if the ground that Moses stood on was holy, then the little patches of ground where churches stand are holy too. The whole earth is holy because God makes himself known on it, which means that in a sense a church is no holier than any other place. God is not more in a church than he is anywhere else. But what makes a church holy in a special way is that we ourselves are more here.

With the expectation of divine presence, we build churches, we builds lives, for if God can show up on a mount with Moses, then God can show up anywhere, with anyone, at anytime. If a simple shrub can signify sacred space on a mountain, then any simple object in park, playground, or pavilion can also usher in sacred space.

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Moses encountered God and his life changed. He changed, from fearful to faithful, from expecting the tragic to expecting the tremendous, from fear of God to walking with God. Moses changed. He left the mountain looking at every new place as potential, possibility, God-space. By the burning bush, he was surprised to find Holy Ground. He left the mountain determined to not be surprised again. Though he wasn’t looking for Holy Ground when he saw the bush, he was every day thereafter. “No more surprises,” he told himself. He went forward looking in wonder at the world for he then knew holy grounds abound.

In every place where you find the imprint of feet there am I God, The Talmud

The recipe for Holy Ground is simple: any place where God is present. When Rome captured Jerusalem, Pompeii came into the city. He entered the Temple. Overcome with curiosity, he wanted to go to the center of the Temple of this God the Jews worshipped so fervently. He expected some image of marble, a statue, a name, but to his surprise, there was no name, no statue, empty. Barbara Brown Taylor affirms the message of Temple and Scripture,

The Bible’s great good news is that God is a palpable God, whose presence can be sniffed and glimpsed in every corner of creation. There are no yellow and black striped lines in the Bible separating sacred territory from secular. “Remove the sandals from your feet,” God tells Moses in the middle of nowhere, “for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.” God’s presence is all that is required to turn ordinary desert sand into the Holy of Holies, or a straw-stuffed manger into the birthplace of the Lord. As Jacob learned on the road to Haran, there is a well-traveled ladder between heaven and earth that has a way of touching down wherever we happen to be.

The first ingredient for Holy Ground is that God is present, and the second ingredient is that we are present. Moses encountered God because Moses was present. Moses turned aside and looked. Moses took off his shoes and paid attention. Though God can show up anywhere, we, though in attendance, are not always attentive. Bodhidharma was a monk from India who traveled throughout China encouraging people to live attentively to life. He said,

When mortals are alive, they worry about death. When they're full, they worry about hunger. Theirs is the Great Uncertainty.

But sages don't consider the past. And they don't worry about the future. Nor do they cling to the present. And from moment to moment they follow the Way.

Consider your life. Let go of your worries. Enjoy the moment. Look around. See through the eyes of wonder. Expect God. Remember, Holy Grounds abound if you just know how to look. 144

Punishment, God as reactive

There is an old Eskimo legend that beneath the world is a giant beaver. That beaver is chewing away at the foundation of the world. If the beaver gets mad, the beaver chews faster and if the beaver chewed all the way through, then the world would topple. So everyone should live their life making sure they weren’t too loud or do anything to make that beaver mad. I think this is what Eskimo parents used to make their kids go to bed… “Oh, I told you to go to sleep. Now you’ve made a lot of noise and awakened the beaver, he is chewing away at the foundation of the world… we’re all going to die because you woke the beaver. Go to bed!” It’s tough living in an igloo with a bunch of Eskimo kids… Don’t make the beaver mad. To me, there is a similarity to the Eskimo and the Beaver to John and his image of God. You see it more in John’s words in Matthew. The contrast isn’t as big in Mark between John and Jesus as it is in Matthew, ““You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? 8 Bear fruit worthy of repentance. 9 Do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our ancestor’; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham. 10 Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. 11 “I baptize you with water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. 12 His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and will gather his wheat into the granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.” For John the Baptist, God is like that mad beaver, chewing away at the foundation… God has been stirred up. And God is mad. And the world is about to tumble.

Punishment, Karma

Karma is essentially this – Do good things, and good things happen. Do bad things, and bad things happen. Pretty simple. “Why was he born blind? Who did something bad, him or his parents?” I’m not sure what they expected, maybe that Jesus would say, “Inside his mother’s womb, he used a lot of profanity so God cursed him.” I actually think they would have been fine with that answer. It wouldn’t make sense to rational people, but it would justify their belief. They could stay where they were.

Question: Koan: Miracle, bring me rhinoceros

There is an old zen story about an expensive fan given to a priest. The priest ordered his disciple, “Bring me the rhinoceros fan.” “It is broken,” the disciple informed his teacher. “Very well then, bring me the rhinoceros.” The zen teacher, as zen teachers do, was using this as an opportunity to push the thinking of his follower.

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The disciple in this story wanted to either mourn the loss of the expensive fan with the rhinoceros picture or get his teacher to fix it. Neither one was helpful in this case. The teacher pointed to something greater. “Bring me the rhinoceros.”

When someone we love dies, we lose all our dreams for the future.

Questions, Answers, preaching pressure, Frederick Buechner

The pressure on the preacher is to…give an answer because everybody else is giving answers. Transcendental meditation is an answer, and the Democratic party is an answer, or the Republican party, and acupuncture and acupressure are answers, and so are natural foods, yogurt, and brown rice. Yoga is an answer and transactional analysis and jogging. The pressure on the preacher is to promote the Gospel, to sell Christ as an answer that outshines all the other answers… In this presentation, Christ can’t just be the answer, Christ must be the easy answer, the answer without cost, without effort, and with a full five year warrenty. At this day of fast food, fast cars, and fast internet, we want the answers, we want them simply, happily and we want them now! Buechner goes on to say, the preacher must talk up the shining side, by calling even the day of (Christ’s) death Good Friday when if it was good, it was good only after it was bad, the worst of all Fridays. The pressure is to be a public relations man to answer for God in a world where bad Fridays abound.

Questions, pain, struggle, Job, Buechner

Buechner told of a time when he was really having a struggle in his life. I had the feeling that my life was disordered, directionless and somehow shabby, and a friend of mine told me about an Episcopal monastery on the banks of the Hudson River, where there was a monk who he thought might be a good person for me to go see because he was a wise and good man. So, off I went in my car to that monastery, full of questions – there’s a kind of wonderful divine comedy about all of this – and when I got there I found this particular monk, whom I’d been sent to see, had taken a vow of silence, and wasn’t seeing anybody. I’ve felt since that the great value of those three days, in that monastery, was the silence. If I’d found the monk and asked my questions, he would have answered the questions and that wouldn’t have solved anything. I’ve often thought if God had said to Job, “All right, I’ll tell you why these terrible things happened. Here it is…” and given him six typewritten pages, it wouldn’t have solved Job’s problem either because, like me, he wasn’t after answers. He was after something else, and what the silence said to me was, “Be still, and know that I am God. And that was another of these holy moments for me.

Questions: Answer: finding new ones: Wisdom, choosing, freedom, Ben Shmuel, response to power, shame refusing to accept

. Among the many men and women taken prisoner by the Babylonians was a funny young man named Ben Shmuel. If he were alive today, he might have become a stand up comic, but in his day, he was the court jester for the Babylonian king. One day Ben was walking down a hallway and met one of the generals in the Babylonian army. The general hated Jews and shouted, “Swine!” as he approached Ben. Ben held out his hand and said, “Nice to meet you Mr. Swine, my friends call me, Mr. Shmuel.” This infuriated the general so much he demanded that the king have Ben put to death. 146

Ben pleaded for his life. “Please your majesty, after all the laughs I have given you, don’t have me killed. Is it fair that after one bad joke I’m sentenced to death?” The king was determined to carry through with his sentence, but showing some mercy he said, “For all the laughter you have brought to me and my court, I’ll grant you one favor – you may chose the manner of your death: hanging, poisoning, devoured by wild beasts, anything you wish.” Do you know the manner of death Ben chose? “Old age.”36

2. Once there was a king of Arabia who hated Jews. So he issued the following decree.: “Every Jew who enters my kingdom must be halted by the guards and ordered to tell something about himself. If he lies – he is to be shot. If he tells the truth, he is to be hanged.” By this strategy, the king sought to eliminate all the Jews in Arabia. One day a Jew came. The king’s servants commanded him to tell something about himself planning to shoot him if he lied and hang him if he told the truth. But this Jew was quite wise, he came up with an answer that made it impossible for them to either hang him for telling the truth or shoot him for lying, do you know what he said? “I am going to be shot today.” The guard were stumped, they didn’t know what to do. So they went to the king. “This is a difficult matter,” said the king, “If I were to shoot the Jew it would imply that he told the truth, in that case the law says he is to be hanged; so I cannot shoot him. If I were to hang him it would imply that he told a lie, and for that the law provides shooting, so I cannot hang him.” And so they let him go.37

3. Once in the city of Seville, Spain, a terrible crime was committed and no one knew who did it. Looking around for someone to blame the prosecutor decided that the Jews must be at fault. Of all the Jews in the city, he decided to go after Rabbi Pinkhes, rabbi of the largest congregation in the city. They put the rabbi on trial and tried to convice a jury that he was guilty. The jury had decided that there was no evidence. The prosecutor was looking for another way to convict the man. “We’ll put the matter before God,” he said, “I have decided that the fairest way to decide this is to draw lots. I will place two rolled up pieces of paper in a box. One will say ‘guilty,’ the other ‘not guilty.’ If the esteemed rabbi picks the piece that reads ‘guilty’, it will be a sign that he and all the Jews are guilty as charged. The rabbi will be executed on the spot. If he picks the piece that says ‘not guilty’ we will have to let him go. The prosecutor was a wicked man. He wanted to see the rabbi dead, and he was not about to let him go. The rabbi knew this and suspected that the cunning prosecutor would write ‘guilty’ on both pieces of paper. The prosecutor laughed and held out the box, “Now pick one,” he said. Imagine you are the rabbi, what would you do? How could you get out of this situation alive when you know that the prosecutor has put two slips in the box that have the word guilty written on them? Here’s what the rabbi did. He said, “Thank you. How kind of you to allow me an opportunity to let me go free, and what a man of faith you are to leave this matter up to God.” Then in one quick motion, he took a piece of paper from the box. Put it in his mouth. And swallowed it. “Why did you do that?” asked the prosecutor. “Now we will never know what piece of paper you drew. This is sure death for you.”

36 While Standing on One Foot, p.23-25. 37 Jewish Folklore, p.298. 147

“I was inspired by God to swallow the piece of paper to prove my innocence. If you have any doubt what my paper said, just look in the box. If the piece of paper in the box said ‘guilty’ then mine certainly said ‘not guilty’.” The prosecutor tried to find a reason to disagree but could not. So with his face red, he reached in the box and pulled out the piece of paper with the word ‘guilty’ and let the rabbi go free.38

Questions: Answers, questions, church always answer “Jesus”

I love the illustration about the children’s Sunday School class. “Class, what is likes nuts, lives in a tree, and has a big bushy tail.” Silence. “Come on class, what likes nuts, lives in a tree, and has a big bushy tail.” Silence. Sensing the teacher’s frustration, Billy raises his hand. “Yes, Billy,” she says. “Sounds like a squirrel, but I’m going to say Jesus.” For Billy, in Sunday School, the answer was always ‘Jesus.’

Questions: Heschel

======Insecurity of Freedom (Abraham Joshua Heschel) - Highlight Loc. 805-7 | Added on Wednesday, August 21, 2013, 11:32 AM The truth, however, is that the valid test of a student is his ability to ask the right questions. I would suggest that we evolve a new type of examination paper, one in which the answers are given—the questions to be supplied by the student. Questions: Jesus: “Who is this Jesus? Why is he different?” – Pilate Jesus Christ Superstar

Questions: Koans

Miriam went to Sophia to learn meditation. Sophia told her to focus on this famous puzzle, “What is the sound of one hand clapping?” Miriam went away and came back a week later shaking her head. She could not get it. “Get out!” said Sophia. “You are not trying hard enough. You still think of this life. You would be closer to understanding if you died.” The next week Miriam came back again. When Sophia asked her, “What is the sound of one hand clapping?” she clutched at her heart, groaned and fell down as if dead. “Well,” said Sophia, “you have taken my advice and died, but what about the sound of one hand clapping?” Miriam opened one eye, “I have not solved that yet.” “Dead women don't speak!” said Sophia, and she chased her out of the Temple.

38 While Standing on One Foot, p.8-11. 148

Questions: learn to ask deeper ones: in Bible:

Rabbi Meir of Rothenberg, Germany sat at his desk studying scripture when his daughter approached. Rachel was a curious child. She was bright and quick. “Daddy,” she said, “teach me how to study scripture.” “Teach you how,” the Rabbi thought. He knew his daughter had memorized many passages. “Rachel, to study scripture you must not only be able to read and memorize, you must be able to think.” “Let me try, Daddy!” she said with excitement. “Very well. Let me tell you a story and see how well you can think through it. Two men were working on a rooftop when they fell down through the chimney. When they landed on the floor, one had a clean face and one had a dirty face. Do you know which one went to wash his face?” What about you? What do you think? Which one went to wash his face? Rachel thought for a moment and then said, “The man with the clean face.” “Why?” asked her father. “Because the man with the clean face looked at the face of his friend which was all dirty. He assumed his face must be dirty too. The man with the dirty face saw his friend’s clean face and assumed his face must be clean. So he wouldn’t go wash his.” “Wonderful, Rachel! But if you are going to study scripture, you must ask deeper questions.” “What do you mean, dad?” “If two men fall down a chimney, how is it possible that only one of them would have a dirty face? Those are the kinds of questions you must ask to study scripture.” Rachel learned a great lesson, and her father went back to studying scripture – reading, memorizing, and asking questions.

Responsibility: Choice: Orestes: Scott Peck: Road Less Traveled neurosis or character disorder

Many people who come to see a psychiatrist are suffering from what is called either a neurosis or a character disorder. Put most simply, these two conditions are disorders of responsibility, and as such they are opposite styles of relating to the world and its problems. The neurotic assumes too much responsibility; the person with a character disorder too little. When neurotics are in conflict with the world they automatically assume that they are at fault. When those with character disorders are in conflict with the world they automatically assume that the world is at fault.39 As an example of taking responsibility, Peck sites the old myth of Orestes, the son of Clytemnestra and Agamemnon. According to Homer, Clytemenestra took a lover and together they murdered Agamemnon. This put Orestes in what might be called a bit of a bind. The greatest obligation a young Greek boy had was to avenge his father’s murder. Yet it was his mother who was responsible. The worst thing a Greek boy could do was to murder his mother. Orestes murdered his mother and her lover, thus avenging his father’s death. But then he had to pay the price and was cursed by the gods with what were called the Furies, three harpies who continually surrounded him, cackling in his ear, giving him hallucinations, driving him to madness…he asked the gods to relieve him of their curse. So a trial was heldat which the god Apollo, who was Orestes’ defense attorney, argued that the whole fiasco was the fault of the gos. Because

39 Scott Peck, The Road Less Traveled, p.35. 149

Orestes hadn’t really had any choice in the matter, consequently he should not be blamed for what he had done. Whereupon, Orestes stood up and countered Apollo. “It was I, not the gods, who murdered my mother,” he said. “It was I who did this.” Never before had any human being assumed such total responsibility for his behavior when he could have blamed it on the gods. Hearing this, the gods deliberated and decided to lift the curse from Orestes. The Furies were transformed into the Eumenides, which means literally “Bearers of grace.” Instead of being cackling, nasty, negative voices, they became voices of wisdom.40 Orestes response was beautiful like David’s. “Me. I did it. No one else. No one effected my choice. I made it. I did it.” Peck sites this as an example of the transformation of mental illness to extraordinary health. It is a transformation that comes when we take appropriate responsibility for ourselves and our actions.

Rules, Cider House Rules, power people make rules with disconnection to those who live them,

In the movie the Cider House rules, the central character, Homer Wells took a job picking apples. He lived with the other tenant apple pickers in the Cider House. On the wall of the Cider House was a list of rules that no one had read. None of the other workers could read, so though they had been there many summers, they had never read the rules. They asked Homer to read them aloud. 1. No eating inside the house because that draws rodents. “Broke that one,” one man said with his mouth full. 2. No smoking in bed. “Broke that one,” said another man blowing smoke while reclining on his bed. 3. No climbing on the roof. “Who climbs on the roof? None of us climb on the roof,” they agreed. “Homer, who made these rules?” they asked. Homer didn’t know. “Wasn’t any of us,” they agreed. They were angry at rules posted by an outsider – someone who had never lived in the Cider House and only came in to post rules. The movie wrestles with the nature of rules and comes to three conclusions: 1. Rules shouldn’t be made by people who live outside. 2. Sometimes you have to break the rules to set things right. 3. Knowing when to break the rules is difficult.

In today’s text, the leper was a rule breaker. The rules for lepers were specifically spelled out in Leviticus 13-14. The person who has the leprous disease: 1. shall wear torn clothes 2. shall let the hair of his head be disheveled 3. shall cover his upper lip and cry out, "Unclean, unclean." 4. shall remain unclean as long as he has the disease. 5. shall live alone 6. his dwelling shall be outside the camp.

40 Scott Peck, Further Along the Road Less Traveled, p.105. 150

The rules for Lepers were designed to keep them separated from everyone else. They were to be kept as outsiders, apart from society. Rules: Love can’t be commanded Once upon a time, but not very long ago, in a kingdom both near and far away, there lived a canny scientist who longed for the love of a beautiful woman. Because his first love was not even science but his own knowledge, wise women were wary of the man, and so he lived a very lonely life. One day, the man decided to use his science to win love, and he set about to concoct a chemical that would cause the object of his affections to fall madly in love with him. Soon his research succeeded, he produced the chemical, and as luck would have it, at just that time he met a beautiful, talented and good woman – the ultimate woman of his dreams. The scientist arranged for friends to introduce them, and at their first meeting, he poured his potion into her beverage. Lo and behold, his fantasy came true! The exquisite creature fell instantly and completely in love with him, and they soon married. But was our hero happy? Alas, no. In a short time, he became gaunt from not eating, his work fell by the wayside, and eventually he could not even bring himself to touch his beloved, as he spent every waking moment torturing himself, trying to devise some kind of test to answer his agonized question: “Would she love me if it were not for the chemical?” For our scientist did crave love, and love cannot be commanded.17

safety idol, Church, loves safety and security

A Presbyterian Pastor was shopping for a motorcycle. The Harley salesman bragged, “This machine will go from 0 to 90 in twenty seconds. It will hug the road at 95. It will outrun anything on wheels.” Then he happened to ask, “What do you do for a living, sir?” “I’m a Presbyterian Pastor,” he replied. “It’s also very, very safe,” the salesman hastily added. “Very, very safe.” We Americans, especially Presbyterian Americans are very western in orientation, very Greek. The moral of the Greeks was, “In all things — moderation.” Nothing in excess. The wise person achieves a balance in life. The person who is committed to certain causes, but never overly committed. The fires of passion, particularly passion which believes that it is in the service of a righteous cause, is dangerous. The golden mean, that’s the key to life, in the eyes of the philosophers. 41

Scarcity and Abundance: Clement’s lunch and plenty

I have friends in the church who are both wonderful cooks. Bob’s turnip greens are good enough to eat for desert. No, I’m not kidding. But even though Bob can work wonders with roughage, Terri far outshines Bob. With two exceptional cooks, leftovers at the Clements’ are better than food at 90% of the restaurants in Nashville. So, having said this, it is no surprise that when I go to visit the Clements, it is almost always just before lunch. “Can you stay for lunch?” Bob will ask and then go on to describe some leftover dish which would make the food channel envy. “Are you sure there is enough?” I ask. “There’s more than enough,” Bob will say. “There is plenty.” Plenty or There is more than enough is a mindset Jesus understood. Let’s look at the rest of the story.

41 Will Willimon sermon on Mark 12 151

I have friends in the church who are both wonderful cooks. Bob’s turnip greens are good enough to eat for desert. No, I’m not kidding. But even though Bob can work wonders with roughage, Terri far outshines Bob. With two exceptional cooks, leftovers at the Clements’ are better than food at 90% of the restaurants in Nashville. So, having said this, it is no surprise that when I go to visit the Clements, it is almost always just before lunch. “Can you stay for lunch?” Bob will ask and then go on to describe some leftover dish which would make the food channel envy. “Are you sure there is enough?” I ask. “There’s more than enough,” Bob will say. “There is plenty.” Plenty or There is more than enough is a mindset Jesus understood.

Scarcity, Abundance, Malthus

An Economist named Thomas Malthus summed it up in his theory. In 1798 Malthus published An Essay on the Principle of Population. In it he argued that populations will always outgrow the food supply because populations grew geometrically while food grew aritmatically. He believed that if the population grew unchecked, that it would lead to what later would be called the Malthusian Catastrophe where food supply was in such shortage it could not sustain life. The balance of people and resources according to Malthus was maintained by famine, war, and illness. So he discouraged relief efforts for the poor since they encouraged the growth of excess population. Malthus’ theory, simply put was this, “There’s not enough to go around. Make sure you get what you can. Help people, but only moderately because it is in their misfortune that population growth is maintained, it is in their calamities that our way of life is protected.” Even though it has been proven wrong again and again, it still serves at the basis of our economic theory. Because you see, even back in 1798, Malthus theory was nothing new. The disciples had the same theory. The crowd had the same theory. That theory, simply put, is this. “There’s not enough to go around. Make sure you get what you can. Help people, but only moderately.” We are the disciples. We are the crowd. We are rooted in that same theory. “There is not enough to go around. Make sure you get what you can. Help people, but only moderately.” As a result, our approach to the world is basically of: Fear, panicked that we might lose what we have. Competition, like children around a pie, there are so few pieces you better get yours while you can. Isolation, we grab all we can and ignore all others. Frantic: We hurry. We live at a pace that causes one heart attack after another. Let anyone slow down that pace whether in a grocery store line or on the highway, we respond with malice enough to kill. Greed: we are offended if anyone insinuates that we have a responsibility in how we spend our money. Tony Campolo took the old WWJD, “What would Jesus do?” and asked, “Would Jesus own a luxury automobile? Would Jesus belong to a country club?” It’s a good thing Tony wasn’t a preacher in Brentwood or he might get fired. I cited this article a month ago from a magazine I read call THE WEEK. It gives summaries from different newspapers and magazines across the world. Here is from the Los Angeles Times an article entitled “A Global Scourge We Can Actually Solve”

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More than 1.1 billion people – one out of every six human beings alive – do not have safe drinking water. Twice that number have no adequate means of disposing of human waste. Tens of millions of people go thirsty on a regular basis, and hundreds of millions drink water fouled by sewage or laced with contaminants and parasites. Every single day, fouled water and thirst kill 10,000 people. It’s appalling but unlike most other global scourges, there’s a solution at hand. Experts say a relatively small investment 0- between $10 billion and $20 billion a year for the next 15 years could give every person on the planet access to clean drinking water and sanitation. (For some perspective, consider that Americans last year spent $61 billion on soft drinks and $71 billion on beer.)

Scarcity, John 6, Five Loaves, Boys with oranges

Which brings us to a wonderful story of God’s justice… This is a Turkish story… Once the sage of the town was sitting in one of his regular places under the branches of a tree waiting for any of the townsfolk with a problem to come and talk to him. He was about to fall asleep, when a group of children approached. “Teacher,” they cried out. We have gathered all the walnuts under a tree and wish to divide them equally among ourselves. There are four of us and we have shared equally in the labor of ghatering but after dividineg them all there are still three wallnust remaining. We have searched all around the tree fro another, but have found none. It seems that one of us must be deprived of a walnut but we cannot decide which. Your wisdom in such matters is well-known to all of us, you have settled disputes in our village when there was no judge to be found. “ The teacher listened carefully to their impassioned plea and thoughtfully stroked his beard. Then he asked them, “Would you rather me decide this matter with God’s justice or man’s justice?” The child who had spoken looked at his companions. They were puzzled by his question, “God’s justice or man’s justice?” So the spokes boy held up his finger asking for a moment’s discussion as they huddled together and debated their response. The first boy spoke, “We know man’s justice too well. Have we not seen how bribes must be paid to the judge in order to receive a favorable judgment? In this case a bribe might be expected and whoever pays the least will be deprived of the walnut. I vote for God’s justice.” The second added, “I agree. Man’s justice is often a phantom. I, too, vote for God’s justice.” The third spoke up, “Does not God provide for all? Do not our holy men work for God. Perhaps this holy man will cause God to produce a fourth walnut and none will go without.” The fourth said, “It is decided then. Why would anyone choose the wisdom of man in preference to that of God, almighty and compassionate? Regardless of how things go among men, one should always call upon God alone for help in such matters, even if the matter is as small as a single walnut.” The spokes boy spoke again, “Sage, we choose God’s justice over man’s. Knowing that you will execute that justice in precise accordance with divine wisdom, we ask for your judgment in the matter of the walnuts.” “You have chosen well,” the sage said with a smile. Then, to the first boy he gave fifty walnuts, to the second thirty, to the third three, and to the fourth none at all.42

Sense making. Made Sense at the time.

42 Awakening to Zen, p.233 153

I have a friend who, at the end of a canoeing trip, had to get his four year old son from the canoe to a rather steep embankment. He stood in the boat, grabbed his son by the life jacket, called to a friend, “Catch.” “One. Two. Three,” he counted and threw his son to his friend. The friend caught the wide eyed little boy, almost. The boy slipped through his hands and slid down the embankment on his back and into the water. Dad leapt into the river turning over the canoe and retrieved his son. Now, what I can tell you, and my friend would agree, when he was standing in the boat, throwing his son to the shore made sense to him – at that time.

Service to Others

Consider Rat. Pat Conroy wrote of Rat in his book, My Losing Season. In the book, he tells of his college years as a Citadel Cadet and athlete on the Citadel’s basketball team. The most memorable game was their four overtime win against VMI (Virginia Military Institute). Four overtimes! Pat remembers coming off the court, being helped undressed by the team manager, the one they called, “Rat.” I could not lift my arms to take off my jersey, so Rat pulled it over my head. Rat untied my shoes and removed both shoes and the nastiest socks in the city. I undid my belt buckle and Rat helped me stand up and my shorts dropped to the floor… Rat turned and gently sent me toward the shower. “The sixty minute man,” Rat said. “You played all sixty minutes, Pat. You never came out once. You, DeBrosee, and Dan Mohr. All sixty minute men. That was the greatest game every played in the history of the world.” “C’mon,” (Pat) said. “That’s just my opinion. I get to have any opinion I want because this is a free country,” Rat said. And it was a free country, one that Joe “Rat” Eubanks though enough of that he went to Vietnam as a combat helicopter pilot. An Army unit got itself surrounded by some North Vietnamese regulars and were taking on a murderous fire from a numerically superior force. The patrol was about to be annihilated when Captain Joe Eubanks arrived on the scene in his Huey. He went in the first time and was replied with heavy machine guns, RPGs, and small arms fire. Joe pulled back, circled around, and went back in with the same predictable results. He repeated the maneuver a third time when… Joe Eubanks, the(former) assistant manager of (the) basketball team, was shot down and killed. He was awarded the Silver Star and the Purple Heart for valor. Whenever (Pat) approaches the (Vietnam Veterans Memorial) Wall in Washington, D.C., he carries a list of names… the last on the list is Joe Eubanks, the orphan from Concord, North Carolina. He always waits until last. He writes, It is always there, at this name, that the Vietnam Veterans Memorial unhinges me and I weep as though I will not be able to stop. My weeping is so public that it always draws attention of other visitors, and they put their arms around me to try and console me.. Veterans ask me if Joe was a member of my unit and I shake my head no. Women ask me if I lost a brother. The sons and daughters of men whose names are on the wall want to know why Joe Eubanks meant so much to me, and all look disappointed, even dismayed, when I blurt out in a tear strangled voice, “He gave me towels. The Rat gave me towels.”43

Service, stagecoaches three levels responsibility

43 Pat Conroy, My Losing Season 154

On stagecoaches they sold three different levels of tickets. They were first class, second class, and third class… the distinction between these tickets did not have to do with where you sat or how much you would eat or drink, but rather as to what was required of you in case of an emergency. Remember now, in the 19th century most of the roads were not paved, and many of the hills were very steep, so that even two strong horses could hardly pull a full stagecoach. Therefore when they faced the emergency of a mud-bog or a steep incline, what it meant was if you had a first class ticket you got to stay on board, nothing was asked of you; you were in a position of privilege. If you had a second class ticket, you had to get off and walk around the mud, or walk up the hill to lighten the load. If you had a third class ticket which was the lowest of the categories, that meant you were obliged to get out and help the stagecoach driver either push the vehicle through the mud, or push it up the hill. It meant that if you were a third class passenger you were vulnerable to having to have to get "down and dirty," as we say today.44 As Christians, we are freed from playing the success games. We aren’t out to succeed, we are just seeking to be faithful. So, we can get down and dirty, we can do third class jobs and not think twice about it. As Christians, we understand that it is people who serve, not people who are served who make a difference in the world. People who serve make a difference in the world.

Shame and guilt: Harold Kushner distinction and examples

Rabbi Harold Kushner does a great job in explaining the difference between guilt and shame. He distinguishes them this way, We tend to use the words guilt and shame more or less interchangeably, as synonyms for feeling bad about ourselves. But psychologists and anthropologists see them as different emotions. Basically, they see guilt as feeling bad for what you have done or not done, while shame is feeling bad for who you are (or who you’re not) measured against some standard of perfection. We can atone for things we have done more easily than we can change who we are. Guilt is feeling bad for what you’ve done or not done while shame is feeling bad for who you are or who you’re not. Kushner goes on to say, …human nature being what it is, we move so easily from one to the other. We hear criticism of something we have done, and translate it into a comment about what sort of person we are. We assume it is our worth as a person, not just our behavior, that is being judged and found wanting. The schoolchild assumes that his report card is evaluating him as a person, not just his spelling and math performance. So a bad grade means “I am bad” and a failing grade means “I am a failure.” A youngster hears his or her parents saying, “He’s so much shorter than other boys,” or “She’s so shy around other children” and feels a sense of shame for having disappointed the parents (by being less than perfect). Guilt is, “I did wrong. I made bad choices. I did some things I should not have done.” Shame is, “I am a bad person. I am a worthless person. I am a weak person, a sorry excuse for a human being.” In our minds, there is a fine line between guilt and shame. We can move quickly from guilt (bad actions) to shame (bad person). Even in the most loving of our relationships we can cross that fine line from guilt to shame with ease. Carrie and I do this all the time. She’ll say, “You forgot to take out the garbage.” I say, “What do you mean I’m forgetful, I’m not forgetful.” She’ll say, “I didn’t say you were forgetful, I said you forgot to take out the garbage.”

44 John Claypool “First Class Jesus Style” 155

Inside I’m going ‘Am I? Am I really forgetful? Maybe she’s right, you know earlier today I forgot the name of … the name of…of that guy. Maybe I’m more than forgetful, maybe I’m stupid.” Carrie will say, “I didn’t say you were forgetful. All I was saying is that you were going to take out the trash, but it’s still here. Abbie turned it over, danced in left over spaghetti, and I had to clean it up. That’s all I was talking about, I didn’t say you’re forgetful.” “I know,” I reply, “you didn’t say I was forgetful, you said I was stupid!” “I did not,” she says. Then Carrie starts thinking, ‘You know, Abbie didn’t like her spaghetti. That’s why it was in the garbage. She likes other people’s spaghetti but not mine. I’m a bad mother.” The jump from guilt (I did bad) to shame (I am bad) is an easy one. Shame plays a predominant role in the story of the Garden of Eden. The barrier in this story that keeps the man and woman from the presence of God is shame. Many people read this story and think it is pride, but it’s the exact opposite. It may be pride that caused the disobedience in the first place, but it is shame that keeps them separated from God in the end. There are legends about what happened to Adam and Eve that never made it into the Bible…According to one of them, God gave Adam and Eve a cave to live in just east of Eden, where they sat in shock for several months after their eviction from paradise, reciting every detail they could remember to each other: the shade of the trees, the warmth of the sun, the beauty of the land. Eve offered to kill herself if God would let Adam back into the garden alone, but Adam would not hear of it, although he tried to end of his own life later by jumping off a cliff. When both of them had failed to die, they wept and beat their breasts…45 God sent them angels to sing to them and sprinkle scented water on them to cool them. He reconciled the beasts of the earth to them…but Adam and Eve could not be roused from their despair. They refused to eat or drink in fear that they would sin again (and something worse happen to them. They ran from God) and when finally, their bodies were stained from exposure and they were speechless with heat and cold, Adam and Eve let God teach them how to sew, using thorns for needles and sheepskins to make shirts for themselves to cover their nakedness. It was a big step. Having lost paradise, having run out of bushes and alibis to hide behind, having all but killed themselves through guilt and exposure, Adam and Eve decided to let God clothe them. “Fear not” an angel sang to them that night, “the God who created you will strengthen you.”46

Sheep and goats, being Jesus for others

Daryl was walking out of church one Sunday, the preacher cornered him. “What are you doing this afternoon?” “I, uh…” Daryl couldn’t think of anything he was doing. He knew a couple of things he’d like to be doing… “Nothing.” “Good,” said the preacher. “The youth group is going this afternoon to the nursing home to lead worship. We need a couple of more drivers.” “Worship?” Daryl asked. “I won’t have to say anything will I?” “No, the youth have it covered.” “Okay. What time.” “4:00.” Daryl drove the youth group to Holcomb Manor, a local nursing home.

45 Barbara Brown Taylor 46 Barbara Brown Taylor 156

During the service, Daryl leaned against the back wall, between two residents in wheelchairs. Just as the service finished and Daryl was thinking about a quick exit, someone grabbed his hand. Startled, he looked down and saw a very old, frail, and obviously lonely man in a wheelchair. What could Daryl do but hold the man's' hand? The man's mouth hung open, and his face held no expression. Daryl doubted whether he could hear or see anything. As everyone began to leave, Daryl realized he didn't want to leave the old man. Daryl had been left too many times in his own life. Caught somewhat off-guard by his feelings, Daryl leaned over and whispered, "I'm. . . uh. . . sorry, I have to leave, but I'll be back. I promise." Without warning, the man squeezed Daryl's hand and then let go. As Daryl's eyes filled with tears, he grabbed his stuff and started to leave. Inexplicably, he heard himself say to the old man, "I love you," and he thought, Where did that come from? What's the matter with me? Daryl returned the next month and the month after that. Each time, it was the same. Daryl would stand in the back, Oliver would grab his hand, Daryl would say he had to leave, Oliver would squeeze his hand, and Daryl would say softly, "I love you, Mr. Leak." (He had learned his name, of course.) As the months went on, about a week before the Holcomb Manor service, Daryl would find himself looking forward to visiting his aged friend. On Daryl's sixth visit, the service started, but Oliver still hadn't been wheeled out. Daryl didn't feel too concerned at first, because it often took the nurses a long time to wheel everyone out. But halfway into the service, Daryl became alarmed. He went to the head nurse. "Urn, I don't see Mr. Leak here today. Is he okay?" The nurse asked Daryl to follow her and led him to room 27. Oliver lay in his bed, his eyes closed, his breathing uneven. At forty years of age, Daryl had never seen someone dying, but he knew that Oliver was near death. Slowly, he walked to the side of the bed and grabbed Oliver's hand. When Oliver didn't respond, tears filled Daryl's eyes. He knew he might never see Oliver alive again. He had so much he wanted to say, but the words wouldn't come out. He stayed with Oliver for about an hour, then the youth director gently interrupted to say they were leaving. Daryl stood and squeezed Mr. Leak's hand for the last time. 'Tm sorry, Oliver, I have to go. I love you." As he unclasped his hand, he felt a squeeze. Mr. Leak had responded! He had squeezed Daryl's hand! The tears were unstoppable now, and Daryl stumbled toward the door, trying to regain his composure. A young woman was standing at the door, and Daryl almost bumped into her. "I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't see you." ''It's all right, I've been waiting to see you," she said. "I'm Oliver's granddaughter. He's dying, you know." "Yes, I know." . "I wanted to meet you," she said. "When the doctors said he was dying, I came immediately. We have always been very close. They said he couldn't talk, but he's been talking to me. Not much, but I know what he is saying. Last night he woke up. His eyes were bright and alert. He looked straight into my eyes and said, 'Please say goodbye to Jesus for me: and he laid back down and closed his eyes. "He caught me off guard, and as soon as I gathered my composure, I whispered to him, 'Grandpa, I don't need to say goodbye to Jesus; you're going to be with him soon, and you can tell him hello.' "Grandpa struggled to open his eyes again. This time his face lit up with a mischievous smile, and he said as clearly as I'm talking to you, 'I know, but Jesus comes to see me every month, and he might not know I've gone.' He closed his eyes and hasn't spoken since. "I told the nurse what he'd said, and she told me about you, coming every month, holding Grandpa's hand. I wanted to thank you for him, for me . . . and, well, I never thought of Jesus as being as chubby 157 and bald as you, but I imagine that Jesus is very glad to have had you be mistaken for him. I know Grandpa is. Thank you." She leaned over and kissed Daryl on the forehead. Oliver Leak died peacefully the next morning.

Space, Competition, winner and loser, either/or

They had been sitting there facing each other for longer than either of them could remember. In fact, it was a staring contest. The first one to blink lost everything. However the funny thing was that they had been at it for so long they were both completely blind! So each one sat there in his chair unblinking, unable to tell if he had finally won. All either one knew for sure was that he hadn’t lost yet. Suddenly both were aware of a Third Person in the room with them. They both heard her at the same time. “Hey, you!” they cried in unison. “Yes,” came the reply from the stranger. “What can I do for you?” Without so much as a moment’s hesitation they both said, “Tell me, has he blinked yet?” “I can’t tell,” offered the Third Person. “The lights have been out in this room for quite some time.” Then she continued, “But I know a place where a light shines, which is brighter than the darkness in this room. It is brighter than the darkness between you and the darkness that is in you. I will take you there if you want me to.” The two contestants were silent for a long time. Finally one of them spoke. “I want to go,” he announced. He stood up and reached out for the hand he knew surely must be there in the darkness, extended toward him. Together he and the Third Person waited a long time for his opponent to make a decision. When there was no response, they left. Sometime later, the one left sitting there staring at a now empty chair said, “Good try, but you can’t fool me.” I imagine he is still there, staring alone into the darkness; and all he knows for sure is that he hasn’t lost-yet.

In his disturbing book, The Last Temptation of Christ, Nikos Kazantzakis paints a picture of Jesus and John… It is sunrise. They are sitting high above the Jordan in the hollow of a rock, wheter they have been arguing all night long about what to do with the world. John’s face is hard and decisive; from time to time his arms go up and down as though he were actually chopping something apart. Jesus’ face, by contrast, is tame and hesitant. His eyes are full of compassion. “Isn’t love enough?” he asks John. “No,” John answers angrily. “The tree is rotten. God called me and gave me the ax, which I thin placed at the roots of the tree. I did my duty. Now you do yours: Take the ax and strike!” “If I were fire, I would burn,” Jesus says. “If I were a woodcutter, I would strike; but I am a heart, and I love.”47 John wanted a God who fixed the world. Jesus said, “That’s not God’s job. That’s not what God’s about.” Love recognizes clearly what is not in your control. You cannot choose other’s choices for them. That is why Jesus can say to John in prison, “Relax. Be at peace. You have chosen to the best of your ability to choose. What others do is not up to you.”

47 Barbara Brown Taylor, GOD IN PAIN, chapt. 1 158

Space: always want more and more. When the sparrow builds its nest in the forest, it occupies but a single branch. When the deer drinks from the river, it takes no more than its belly can hold. We collect things because our hearts are empty. Unknown

~~~~~

Sophia sat in meditation on the riverbank when a student bent down to place two enormous pearls at her feet as a gift. She opened her eyes to see the pearls. She picked one up, but dropped it. It rolled down the hill upon which she was sitting and into the river. The student chased after it and looked all afternoon, diving, coming up for air, diving back down. “Sophia,” he asked. “Could you show me where it went in? I can’t find it.” “Right there,” she said throwing the other pearl in the river.

Space: being most humble: look who thinks he’s nobody or nothing

Once, during a Sabbath service, a rabbi was seized by a sudden wave of guilt, prostrated himself and cried out, “God, before you I am nothing!” The cantor was so moved by this demonstration of piety that he threw himself to the floor beside the rabbi and cried, “God, before you I am nothing!” Watching this scene unfold from his seat in the first row, the synagogue’s janitor jumped up, flopped down in the aisle and cried, “God, before you I am nothing!” The rabbi nudged the cantor and whisperd, “So, look who thinks he’s nothing!”

Space: competition: Grace, not by works or points: beyond hierarchy and competition

A man dreams that he has gone to heaven. Of course, St. Peter meets him at the Pearly Gates. St. Peter says, "Here's how it works. You need 100 points to it into heaven. You tell me all the good things you have done, and I give you a certain number of points each item, depending on how good it was. When you reach 100 points, you get in." "Okay," the man says, "I was married to the same woman for 50 years and never cheated on her, even in my heart." "That's wonderful," says St. Peter, "that's worth three points!" "Three points?" he says. "Well, I attended church all my life and supported its ministry with my tithe and service." "Terrific!" says St. Peter. "That's certainly worth a point." "One point? I started a soup kitchen in my city and worked in a shelter for homeless veterans." "Fantastic, that's good for two more points," he says. "Two points!" the man cries. "At this rate the only way I get into heaven is by the grace of God." "Bingo, 100 points! Come on in! Join the party!" I don’t like bowling. I go when the Bible School kids or the youth group go, but I don’t like it. I don’t like the fact that bowlers have their own lingo. A strike is when you knock down all the pins in one ball, a spare is knocking all the pins down in two rolls. Both of those score more so they are called marks. A railroad is when you bowl right down the middle and only take out the middle pins.

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When you take out all the middle pins and leave only the two ends it’s called a split and the two pins are called bedposts. That doesn’t bother me. Most sports have their own lingo. What bothers me is that in bowling, now with these electronic scoreboards high up on the ceiling, everybody knows your score. Bowling is different from golf. Golf your score is a secret. You keep it a on a little card. You don’t even have to tell if you don’t want to. “What are you putting for?” You ask a friend. “Four.” He replies. “What are you putting for?” “The fun of it,” you can tell him. Golf, no one has to know your score. Bowling, it is right there, tabulated for the entire world to see. On a bad day, the manager may look up at your score and then come over and say, “Would you like put up the bumpers for you?” Everybody knows how you rank. Everybody knows your score. You can feel the bowlers in the next lane glancing over at your score. That’s not as bad as when they glance up at the score then look down at you to see if you have arms. That’s embarrassing. People don’t just check out your score at bowling, if you’ve every been to a Y or a Rec room, there is a lot of score checking going on there, too. People score at school. You get a test back. Glance over and see. Score. You’re lifting weights. You look at what you do. You kind of glance over at the guy next to you. Score. Have you ever seen someone working a machine and then pull the pin and put it lower to let the next person think they are lifting more weight? Score. Some people score fame. Not how many people you know, that’s not what they score, but how many people know you. That’s fame. George Jones filmed a gospel video here on Thursday. I was talking with the film manager who was setting up the ‘shoot’. He said that George liked to come in and out very fast, he didn’t hang around long for these things. He wasn’t sure just what time George would be coming in, but he hoped I’d get a chance to meet George. Those of you who know me well, know that I am quite arrogant. “I’d get a chance to meet George?” I was thinking, “Maybe George will get a chance to meet me.” Fame – scoring how many people know you. Isn’t that what money is about? Score? Take cars, lower the year, higher the score. Higher the sticker higher the score. Japanese cars tend to score higher than American cars, European cars tend to score higher than Japanese cars. Score.

Space: even in our heads: journey: drop something. In the pursuit of learning, every day something is acquired. In the pursuit of The Way, every day something is dropped. Lao Tzu

When they realized Sophia was going to die, her students wished to give her a worthy funeral. Sophia heard them and said, “Give me the sky and the earth for my coffin, the sun and moon and stars for my burial clothes, and all creation to escort me to the grave. Could I ask for anything more impressive?” But her students wouldn't hear of it, protesting that she would be eaten by the animals and birds. “Then make sure you place my staff near me that I might drive them away,” Sophia said with a smile. “How would you manage that? You will be unconscious.”

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“In which case it will not matter, will it, that I be devoured by the birds and beasts? Why should I care what happens to the wax when the candle is extinguished? Why should I care about the candle when the morning has come?”

Space: Frederick Nietzsche. God is dead

At the beginning of last century, Nietzsche proclaimed “God is dead.” That upset a lot of people. I heard of a sign that read “’God is dead’ - Nietzsche,” and under it “’Nietzsche is dead - God.” But Nietzsche wasn’t saying that people didn’t believe in God (surveys of Americans 94%) in their head. What Nietzsche noticed was that belief in God no longer effected the way people organized their lives and societies. If you look at a medieval village or city, you’ll see their belief in God effected the way they organized the city. It was around the cathedral. You couldn’t help but get the message, God is in his world and all is right in ours. Answers to your questions? Look to God. Solutions for your problems? Look to God. Nietzsche wasn’t saying that God had died, but that humanity’s trust in God, need for God had died. Nietzsche noticed that instead of being organized around the Cathedral, now it was organized around the industries. What Nietzsche was saying is that the center of human life changed? Despair. If all we can observe is all there is, if there is no God, then there is no hope. Today’s passage is about seeing. 22 “The eye is the lamp of the body. So, if your eye is healthy, your whole body will be full of light; 23 but if your eye is unhealthy, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light in you is darkness, how great is the darkness!

Space: home: protecting: or home is world and life.

Sophia awoke one night to a burglar in her house. She helped him to as much as he could carry. She opened the door for him on his way out. She walked outside and looked up in the clear night sky. “What I really wish I could have given him was this moon,” she said.

space: Jesus as groom: prepare a place for you: heaven

Listen to the role of the bride in this image. Listen to how important her response is. If you got married in Jesus day, the groom you wouldn’t be living in his own home or renting an apartment, but in his father’s house. In Jesus’ words as the groom, “in my father’s house, there are many dwelling places” in other words, lots of room for rooms. The groom would begin the engagement, not by proposing to the bride, but to her father. They would negotiate a price, dowry, for the bride. Paul uses this language in 1 Corinthians 6: do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, which you have from God, and that you are not your own? 20 For you were bought with a price; therefore glorify God in your body. The language is of groom and bride, you were bought with a price. Once an agreement had been made, they would seal it with a drink of wine. Communion image, groom with the wine. “I have paid the price.” Then the groom would say to the bride, “I am going to prepare a place for you.”

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When he was finished, the groom would return with all his groomsmen. They would come into the village blowing a horn. The brides would wonder, “Is it me? Is my groom coming for me?” The groom would take her back to the new home off his family’s house with a central courtyard, there they would celebrate the wedding for seven days. Now, what I want to point out is the role of the bride in this process – essentially, she does nothing. It’s not about her.

Space: leads to violence: denominations Sophia was frustrated by the divisive nature of humanity. So, in order to try and make a difference in the world, she built a cage and inside the cage she put a dog and a cat. After a little training, she got the dog and the cat to the point where they could live peacefully together inside that same cage. Then she added a pig, a goat and a kangaroo. With some training, they all lived together peacefully. Then she added some birds and a monkey. With some training and a few adjustments, they all lived together in that same cage in harmony. She was so encouraged by those successes that she added an Irish Catholic, a Presbyterian, a Jew, a Muslim from Turkey, a Buddhist from China and a Baptist missionary that she captured on that same trip. In a very short time, there wasn’t a single living thing left in the cage.

In a war of ideas it is people who are the casualties. Anthony de Mello

Space: life beyond the next victory and conquering others

Sophia approached a king who was preparing for war. “O King, if we conquer Rome, what will we do next?” “Sicily is next door and will be easy to take,” he replied. “And what shall we do after Sicily is taken?” Sophia asked. “Then we will move over to Africa and conquer Egypt.” “And after Egypt?” “Then Greece will come.” “And what, may I ask, will be the benefit of all these conquests?” “Then,” said the king, “we can sit down and enjoy ourselves.” “Can we not,” asked Sophia, “choose to enjoy ourselves now?”

Space: Life like football, George Carlin football baseball

Jesus intends for the life of faith to be like… well… football… The greatest American philosopher since Mark Twain was George Carlin. Carlin did a marvelous contrast between baseball and football. Baseball is a nineteenth-century pastoral game. Football is a twentieth-century technological struggle. Baseball is played on a diamond, in a park. The baseball park! Football is played on a gridiron, in a stadium, sometimes called Soldier Field or War Memorial Stadium.

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Baseball begins in the spring, the season of new life. Football begins in the fall, when everything's dying. In football you wear a helmet. In baseball you wear a cap. Football is concerned with downs - what down is it? Baseball is concerned with ups - who's up? In football you receive a penalty. In baseball you make an error. In football the specialist comes in to kick. In baseball the specialist comes in to relieve somebody. Football has hitting, clipping, spearing, piling on, personal fouls, late hitting and unnecessary roughness. Baseball has the sacrifice. Football is played in any kind of weather: rain, snow, sleet, hail, fog... In baseball, if it rains, we don't go out to play. Baseball has the seventh inning stretch. Football has the two minute warning. Baseball has no time limit: we don't know when it's gonna end - might have extra innings. Football is rigidly timed, and it will end even if we've got to go to sudden death. In baseball, during the game, in the stands, there's kind of a picnic feeling; emotions may run high or low, but there's not too much unpleasantness. In football, during the game in the stands, you can be sure that at least twenty-seven times you're capable of taking the life of a fellow human being. And finally, the objectives of the two games are completely different: In football the object is for the quarterback, also known as the field general, to be on target with his aerial assault, riddling the defense by hitting his receivers with deadly accuracy in spite of the blitz, even if he has to use shotgun. With short bullet passes and long bombs, he marches his troops into enemy territory, balancing this aerial assault with a sustained ground attack that punches holes in the forward wall of the enemy's defensive line. In baseball the object is to go home! And to be safe! - I hope I'll be safe at home! That is why, when I try to prepare individuals who come to me for premarital counseling, I never say, “Your marriage will be a lot like baseball,” but I have told couples, “Your marriage will be a lot like football.” In football, two teams send players onto the field to determine which athletes will win and which will lose, in marriage two families send their representatives forward to see which family will survive and which family will be lost into oblivion with their traditions, patterns, and values lost and forgotten. After a child has been baptized in the traditions and liturgies of the Greek Orthodox Church-and by "child" I don't mean a squalling seven-year old but a real infant, literally still damp-the minister or priest or bishop takes his very large pectoral cross-twice the size of mine-and forcefully strikes the little child on its breast, so hard that it leaves a mark, and so hard that it hurts the child and the child screams… The symbolism of the Eastern baptism is clear. The blow indicates that the child who has been baptized into Christ must bear the cross, and that the cross is a sign not of ease or of victory or of prosperity or of success, but of sorrow, suffering, pain and death.48

48 Peter Gomes, “Storm Center”, THE CHRISTIAN CENTURY, May 31, 2003, p.8. 163

Space: Materialism, simplicity, poverty, what’s enough?

Max rolled down the window to see a little boy. “Trocadiniho, Senior?” (Do you have any spare change?) The boy was, at most, nine years old. Shirtless. Barefooted. Dirty. So dirty, Max couldn’t tell if he was wearing shorts or not. His hair was matted. His skin was crusty. Max rolled down the window. “What’s your name? I asked. “Jose.” Max looked over at the sidewalk. Two other street orphans were walking towards the cars behind me. They were naked except for ragged gym shorts. “Are they your brothers?” “No, just friends.” “Have you collected much money today?” He opened a dirty hand full of coins. Enough money, perhaps, for a soft drink. I reached in my wallet and pulled out the equivalent to a dollar. his eyes brightened. The light changed and the cars behind him honked. As he drove away he saw him running to tell his friends what he had received. The voices on my shoulders didn’t dare say a word. Nor did Max. He drove in shameful silence. He figured he had said enough, and God had heard every word. He thought, what if God had responded to his grumblings? What if he’d heeded his complaints? He could have. He could have answered my carelessly mumbled prayers. And had he chosen to do so, a prototype of the result had just appeared at his door. “Don’t want to mess with airlines? This boy doesn’t have that problem. Frustrated with your VCR? That’s one headache this boy doesn’t have. He may have to worry about tonight’s dinner, but he doesn’t have to worry about VCRs. And family? I’m sure this orphan would gladly take one of yoru families if you are too busy to appreciate them. And cars? Yes, they are a hassle, aren’t they? You should try this boy’s mode of transportation – bare feet.” God sent the boy with a message. And the point the boy made was razor-sharp. “You are crying over spilt champagne.”49

Space: Security and the desire for things, materialism

Richard Foster wrote, Because we lack a divine Center our need for security has led us into an insane attachment to things. We really must understand that the lust for affluence in contemporary society is psychotic. It is psychotic because it has completely lost touch with reality. We crave things we neither need nor enjoy. “We buy things we do not want to impress people we do not like.” Where planned obsolescence leaves off, psychological obsolescence takes over. We are made to feel ashamed to wear clothes or drive cars until they are worn out. The mass media have convinced us that to be out of step with fashion is to be out of step with reality. It is time we awaken to the fact that conformity to a sick society is to be sick.. Until we see how unbalanced our culture has become at this point, we will not be able to deal with the mammon spirit within ourselves nor will we desire Christian simplicity.. This psychosis permeates even our mythology. The modern hero is the poor boy who purposefully becomes rich rather than the rich boy who voluntarily becomes poor. (We still find it I hard to imagine

49 Max Lucado, 65. 164 that a girl could do either!) Covetousness we call ambition. Hoarding we call prudence. Greed we call industry. Again, George Dawson, Life is So Good who learned to read at 98. “Most of my childhood, Daddy had to work two jobs so we could get by. Still, if the Good Humor man came by after a payday, we would all of us get a nickel to get an ice cream. I still remember the excitement with that. We had all we needed and then some. There was no one that told us we were poor and I guess we just didn’t know better.” Bill Moyers, “Our children are being raised by appliances. “

Space: Unity, purity, my group over your group, Ku Klux Klan, separation, pride in my group, one nation under God

I have started reading a wonderful magazine, The Oxford American. It is a magazine on southern culture which gives me a chance to celebrate part of who I am, a southerner. In it I found an article by Diane Roberts entitled, “Your Clan or Ours.” In it she relates the clan mentality of Scotland as a forbearer to the Ku Klux Klan mentality of the south. …some of these heritage groups see Scotland as a white nation with an overlay of Celtic mystery, “a pure white culture where the men are strong and women dance. For most, Scottish games mean standing around having a beer and a laugh with ten thousand other people. But for some, it can be a way to assert their whiteness. For many Scottish-Americans, Scotland stands for authenticity, racial “purity”, and social order, for resistance to urbanization and central government – a nation of romantic outlaws and do-it- yourself spirituality, a place where men are men, women are ladies, and nature is always photogenic. It’s not a big stretch to see Scotland morphing into a metaphor for the Old South, the Never Never Dixie of old times not forgotten, where slavery didn’t rip the place apart but just dissipated into benign paternalism, where feminism is unheard of, Christianity unchallenged and multiculturalism a bad dream. In “Braveheart”, Mel Gibson plays Sir William Wallace, the thirteenth-century guardian of Scotland, a self-made guy who’s nice to women, children, and animals, likes drinking, hates the English king, and is good at guerrilla warfare. If you scrub off his anachronistic blue paint, trade his kilt for butternut and his Scots accent for a Tennessee one, you’d swear he was General Nathan Bedford Forrest, military genius and first Imperial Wizard of the Ku Klux Klan.50 The problem is when our own pride in our heritage puts us against another’s heritage and we see ourselves as God’s only chosen people, as the superior group with other groups as inferior, then no matter what our group is, we’ve gone wrong. In Isaiah, we find this extraordinary passage: “On that day there will be an altar of the Lord in the center of the land of Egypt, and a pillar to the Lord at its border…On that day there will be a highway from Egypt to Assyria, and the Assyrian will come into Egypt, and the Egyptian into Assyria and Egyptians will worship with the Assyrians. On that day Israel will be the third with Egypt and Assyria, a blessing in the midst of the earth, whom the Lord of hosts has blessed, saying, ‘Blessed by Egypt my people, and Assyria the work of my hands, and Israel my heritage.’” (Isa. 19:19,23-25) Egypt my people? We thought Israel was God’s people, and Egypt was the devil’s people. Assyria the work of my hands? We thought Israel was the work of God’s hands and Assyria was the work of the devil. One might as well say, “Blessed by communist China, God’s people, and ruthless Iraq, the work of God’s hands, and my own country, God’s heritage.51

50 Diane Roberts, “Our Clan our Yours?”, The Oxford American, Sept/Oct 1999, p.24. 51 Ain’t Gonna Study War No More, p. 100-101. 165

Space: We think of relationships in terms of location. Distance = pain.

We focus too much energy, as have the fields of theology and psychology, on the questions of “Who am I?” and “What’s wrong with me?” When we see someone like Thomas, someone we easily define as weak or less than, someone who does what we consider wrong, we believe that there must be something wrong with him. Again, that’s an unhelpful orientation. A better, more helpful orientation is to examine not his character but his location and his movement. As Adler said, Life happens at the level of events, not of words. Trust movement. Our minds think in these terms. We think in terms of location and movement when talking about ourselves, others, and our relationships. One of the clearest examples is the metaphors we use. Consider the following metaphors: Location metaphors: I have a special place in my heart for you. She is my closest friend. He’s out of touch. She’s out of reach. He needs room to grow. She’s an outsider. Politically, you are on the far right. You’re definitely to the left of me. You’re outside the lines. You’re on the edge of trouble. Movement metaphors: We are going in circles. We are growing distant. You drive me crazy. You move too fast. You’ve slowed down a lot. He’s on the journey toward becoming a man. She’s climbing the ladder to success. He’s following in his father’s footsteps. She caught him. He did an about face, a U-turn. That was a step in the right direction. They are now on the road to a happy place. These and other metaphors show that we think and speak of ourselves, other people, and our relationships in terms of location, distance and movement. Through better understandings of location, distance, and movement we will learn more about ourselves and our relationships. A lot of helpful work is being done in psychology in these areas looking at what is between us rather than what is within us when we are facing a problem. William Glasser began Reality Therapy looking at location, distance and movement. He began with this as one of his primary concepts: most human pain results from loneliness. For Glasser, like Adler, when you are hurting, don’t look at what’s wrong with who you are but what’s wrong with where you are. Don’t look at your history, look at your present movement and ask, “Are you moving closer to others or away?” When someone comes to see me as their pastor, bringing some personal pain seeking help, I listen for distance in their relationships. I listen for distance in one of three areas: family, friends, or work. Usually, when someone is feeling emotional pain, there is a distance problem in one or more of those three areas of relationships.

Space: With others: Unity, I and we, room for others, cancer cells only “I” healthy cells make room, competition

In your body there are a bigillion cells. Bigillion means lots.

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Not just a bigillion, but a bigillion of each type of cells. Each cell wants to reproduce, to recreate itself. They have two responses, yes and no. Now and not now. So when all these cells are growing, they have an innate sense of when they should grow and when they shouldn’t. All this growing and waiting in conflict but also in harmony. Now a cancer cell doesn’t have yes and no, on and off, grow and wait. It only has yes, on, and grow. It grows at the expense of everything else, there is no room for others. Healthy cells, like healthy people, have the ability to have room for me and for you. Unhealthy cells, cancerous cells, have no room for you. It is just me. Jesus wants conflict, especially in the family, but it is a conflict that seeks to make room for each of us, each person and their calling, not me or you, but you and me. On your bulletin is a phrase that is my motto for the church. Now this is the Law of the Jungle -- as old and as true as the sky; And the Wolf that shall keep it may prosper, but the Wolf that shall break it must die. As the creeper that girdles the tree-trunk the Law runneth forward and back -- For the strength of the Pack is the Wolf, and the strength of the Wolf is the Pack. Rudyard Kipling

Spaces: Cross:

Clarence Jordan was shown a church sanctuary, “That cross,” the guide said, “was donated by one of our members and cost $10,000.” “Shucks,” Jordan said, “time was you could get one for free.”

Spaces: kill for.

Sophia’s health was fading. Knowing her death was near she announced to all the monks that she soon would be passing down her robe to appoint the next teacher of the monastery. Her choice, she said, would be based on a contest. Anyone seeking the appointment was required to demonstrate spiritual wisdom by submitting a poem. The head monk, the most obvious successor, presented a poem that was well composed and insightful. All the monks anticipated his selection as their new leader. However, the next morning another poem appeared on the wall in the hallway, apparently written during the dark hours of the night. It stunned everyone with beauty and insight. Determined to find this person, Sophia began questioning all the monks. The investigation led to the quiet kitchen worker. Upon hearing the news, the jealous head monk and his comrades plotted to kill their rival. In secret, Sophia passed down her robe to the kitchen worker, who quickly fled from the monastery, later to become a widely renowned wisdom teacher.

~~~~~

People kill for money or for power. But the most ruthless murderers are those who kill for their ideas. Anthony de Mello

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Spaces: prejudice: Ghandi

Gandhi once contemplated Christianity while in South Africa. He went into a church, sat down and one of the ushers told him he would have to leave because "colored people" were not allowed in that particular Anglican cathedral.

Gandhi later said, "That poor usher. He thought he was ushering a colored man out of a cathedral when in reality he was ushering India out of the British empire." This is a lesson that Bishop Desmond Tutu of South Africa learned at a very young age. When he was a child growing up in South Africa, Racism was still a big problem. If a black person and a white person met while walking on a footpath, the black person was expected to get off of the path and allow the white person to pass by. As they were passing by the black person was supposed to nod their head as a gesture of respect. "One day" Tutu and his mother were walking down the street when they noticed a tall white man, dressed in a black suit, walking toward them. Before he and his mother could step off the sidewalk, this man stepped off the sidewalk and allowed Tutu and his mother to pass by. As they passed by, the man tipped his hat in a gesture of respect to Tutu’s mother Tutu was shocked and asked his mother, ‘Why the white man did that?’ His mother explained that the white man was an Anglican priest. That He was a man of God, and that’s why he did what he had done. Tutu would later say, “I decided there and then that I wanted to be an Anglican priest too. And what is more, I wanted to be a man of God."

Story, Bible, Scripture, Quotes about

As Will Willimon and Stanley Hauerwaas wrote, Story is the fundamental means of talking about and listening to God, the only human means available to us that is complex and engaging enough to make comprehensible what it means to be with God.52

William White, editor of one of my favorite story collections, said, …story, not doctrine is the Bible’s main ingredient. We do not have a doctrine of creation, we have stories of creation. We do not have a concept of the resurrection; we have marvelous narratives of Easter.53

Story, identity, baptism, barking pig, in Cinderella, finding your place in other’s drama

A kindergarten teacher I know was asked to have class dramatize a fairy tale for a teacher's conference. After much discussion, the children achieved consensus on that old favorite, "Cinderella." The classic old "rags to riches" story that never dies. "Cream will rise" is the moral of this tale, some day you may get what you think you deserve. It's why adults play the lottery with such passion. "Cinderella" was a good choice from the teacher's point of view because there were many parts and lots of room for discretionary padding of parts so that every child in the class could be in the play. A list of characters was compiled as the class talked through the plot of the drama. There was the absolutely ravishing Cinderella, the evil stepmother, the two wicked and dumb stepsisters, the beautiful and wise fairy godmother, the pumpkin, mice, coachman, horses, the king, all the people at the king's

52 Willimon and Hauerwass, Resident Aliens, pp.54-55. 53 White R. White, Stories for , p.32 168 ball - generals, admirals, knights, princesses, and, of course, that ultimate object of fabled desire, the Prince - good news incarnate. The children were allowed to choose roles for themselves. As the parts were allotted, each child was labeled with a felt pen and paper, and sent to stand over on the other side of the room while casting was completed. Finally, every child had a part. Except one. One small boy. Who had remained quiet and disengaged from the selection process. A somewhat enigmatic kid - "different" - and because he was plump for his age, often teased by other children. "Well Norman, said the teacher., "who are you going to be?" Well, replied Norman, "I am going to be the pig." "Pig? There's no pig in this story." "Well, there is now." Wisdom was fortunately included in the teacher's tool bag. She looked carefully at Norman. What harm? It was a bit of casting to type. Norman did have a certain pigginess about him, all right. So be it. Norman was declared the pig in the story of Cinderella. Nobody else wanted to be the pig, anyhow, so it was quite fine with the class. And, since there was nothing in the script explaining what the pig was supposed to do, the action was left up to Norman. As it turned out, Norman gave himself a walk-on part. The pig walked along with Cinderella wherever Cinderella went, ambling along on all fours in a piggy way, in a costume of his own devising - pink long underwear complete with trapdoor rear flap, pipe-cleaner tail, and a paper cup for a nose. He made no sound. He simply sat on his back haunches and observed what was going on, like some silently supportive Greek chorus. The expressions on his face reflected the details of the dramatic action. Looking worried, sad, anxious, hopeful, puzzled, mad, bored, sick, and pleased as the moment required. There was no doubt about what was going on, and no doubt that it was important. One look at the pig and you knew. The pig was so earnest. So sincere. So very "there." The pig brought gravity and mythic import to this well-worn fairy tale. At the climax when the Prince finally placed the glass slipper on the Princess's foot, and the ecstatic couple hugged and rode off to live happily ever after, the pig went wild with joy, and broke his silence by barking. In rehearsal the teacher had tried explaining to Norman that even if there was a pig in the Cinderella story, pigs don't bark. But as she expected, Norman explained that THIS pig barked. And the barking, she had to admit, was well done. The presentation at the teacher's conference was a smash hit. At the curtain call, guess who received a standing ovation? Of course, Norman the barking Pig - who was, after all, the REAL Cinderella story.

Story, Noah, dog, faithfulness

After Noah got the animals inside the boat. He waited about a week and it started to rain. First in just a few drops. Then a deluge. More rain that you have ever seen in your life. And the boat started to float. Now anyone who owns a boat, especially one that will hold two of every kind of animal, knows that boats take a lot of work. Your hands are never in your pockets. They are always doing something. As Noah was working, he saw this cute animal with pricked and a long tail that was always wagging. And this animal was always right behind Noah. Noah got tired of this animal following him around all the time so he said, "Shoo, get out of here. Leave me alone." But the animal would just bark and wag his tail. So after a few days he asked his sons. "What do you call this animal that follows me around all the time wagging his tail. It won't leave me alone. The other day it came and sat just looking at me with his tongue hanging out of his mouth until I gave him a piece of my sandwich. What do you call it?" 169

Noah's wife came in and heard the discussion. "That's a dog," she said. "And he is a very nice animal. Be kind to him." Noah wasn't kind because he was tired of the animal following him around. But after awhile, Noah's attitude changed. On the 31st day on the ark, Noah noticed three things: First of all, the boat was starting to tilt a little bit, then he realized that he hadn't seen the animal around. So when he saw his wife, he said, "Have you noticed that the boat is tilting a little bit?" "Now that you mention it, the ark is tilting a little," Mrs. Noah said. "And you know what else? I haven't seen that animal that's always following me around, that - what do you call it?" "The dog," she replied. "And now that you mention it, I haven't seen him either. Let's go look for it." They looked upstairs and down stairs, they looked in the cabins, they looked in the places where the animals were. They couldn't find the dog. They were worried. "Where else could we look?" She asked. "We haven't gone down into the hold," Noah said. The hold is the place in the very bottom of the boat often used to store things. So they went down there together. As they crawled around there in the dark, Mrs. Noah said, "Dog, where are you?" "gruff," they heard a muffled bark. They went down deeper in the hold, and they found the dog chest deep in water with his nose stuck in a hole in the side of the boat. He shouted for his sons who came running. Noah picked up the dog as his sons fixed the hole and bailed the water. Then Noah said, "That poor dog, he's had his nose stuck in that hole with the cold water for who knows how long?" The poor dog had a terrible sinus cold. But Noah and his wife nursed him back to health. Except for his nose. It remained cold and wet, and they have been that way ever since. So when you see a dog, and you feel his cold wet nose, you remember this story, about a dog who was willing to give all that he had for those he loved.

The dog offered what he had. His nose. Little, but enough.

That’s what the boy did. Little. But it was what he had. He offered it. And it was enough.

Story, Noah, faithful, tickle hyena

Some time later, Noah had another tilting problem on the boat.54

Noah had slipped away for a little peace and quiet up on deck when his wife came running to him and shouted, "Noah, I think you should come and see what your elephants are doing." "What now?" asked a tired Noah. Noah came below deck with his wife and found the elephants in the food supplies eating as much as they could. "You better do something fast," Mrs. Noah said, "or they'll eat everything in sight. You tell them we already have two pigs." "Alright, Mr. and Mrs Elephant," Noah said, "you must go back to your room and wait until feeding time like everyone else." The elephants just shook their heads and kept right on eating.

54 Old Noah’s Elephants 170

Noah hopped up on a barrel of apples and said if a firmer voice, "It's time to go back to your rooms...now!" The elephants just laughed and kept on eating. "Enough of this nonsense," Noah said, and he began to push. He pushed and pushed but the elephants didn't budge. In fact, the harder he pushed the faster they ate, and the faster they ate, the fatter they became. Noah soon grew tired and sat down to think. After a while, he noticed something strange was happening. "Oh, my!" Noah cried. "Those elephants are so fat that the ark is tipping over." The whole ark, including all the food and all the animals tipped to one side. Noah began to pray. "God, what should I do? We'll all perish if I can't get the elephants to move." The God replied, "Tickle the hyena." "Tickle the hyena?" Noah asked. "Tickle the hyena," God said. "Trust me." So who was Noah to argue? He found a goose feather and tickled a hyena on the nose. The hyena screamed with laughter and rolled on top of the lion's tail. "Roar!" growled the lion. The lion's roar startled the giraffe and made him jump. His head bumped a monkey asleep on the rafters. The monkey fell onto a zebra's back. The zebra kicked and kicked. Splash! A barrel full of fish fell over. The moose stepped on one of the slippery wet fish and slid across the floor right into a hippo. The hippo sat down and almost flattened two chickens and a peacock. "Squawk!" they shouted. "Gruff! Gruff!" barked a dog, and it began to chase the chickens. When the dog ran by, it scared a cat, who leaped over a rhino and surprised a mouse. The mouse hurried into a basket of vegetables and hid under a big green cabbage. Suddenly the big green cabbage disappeared! The elephants saw the mouse. "Squeak," said the mouse. The elephants were terrified! They dropped what they were eating and ran off to opposite ends of the ark. "We're saved!" Noah shouted as the ark balanced out. That evening, Noah and his family thanked God for answering Noah's prayer. They held a big celebration that lasted long into the night. Noah trusted God.

Story: Storytelling: God chose storytellers

Legend has it, that when God was trying to select a nation to carry God’s message to the world, God called all the nations to send a representative to a great convocation. The representatives were charged with making a case to God why their nation should be chosen to be the presenter of God’s message to the world. The first representative that came and stood before God was the Egyptian representative. “Wondrous Creator, choose us as your nation to carry your message. We are great builders and we can build glorious monuments to shine your glory to the world.” God thanked the Egyptian and then called for the Roman representative. “Mighty One, we are a powerful nation bringing order to the world. We can offer you a great empire to carry forth your truth.” God thanked the Roman and then called for the Greek. “Source of all wisdom, we seek truth. We can fathom wonderful intricate systems of thought to give shape to your truth for human understanding.” God thanked the Greek representative and then called the Jew.

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“Great I am, YOU who cannot be named, we cannot offer you great monuments, a powerful nation, or lofty systems of thought, but we are storytellers. What better carrier for the majesty and mystery of you beyond all human thought and category to carry your truth to the world?” And God chose the storytellers, for stories last longer than all monuments, are more powerful than any nation, and can relate the mysteries of God and human existence in a timeless way beyond all systems of thought.55

Storytelling: overhear gospel through particular stories of others

Sören Kierkegaard, the Danish philosopher who made existentialist thought seminal to much of Christian theology in the middle part of the twentieth century, would have approved of my approach to communicating truth. He made the point that Jesus preached primarily through storytelling because, according to Kierkegaard, the gospel is not so much heard as it is overheard! By that Kierkegaard meant that the Bible is full of stories about all kinds of people, both good and bad, and as the stories of these people are told, we find ourselves.

Suffering: Pain: world seems against us: Wile E. Coyote: Why me? Why not you?

The animator of The Coyote and The Roadrunner cartoons was a guy named Churck Jones with a writer Michael Maltese. They set out to produce one cartoon. Jones said he created the Coyote-Road Runner cartoons as a parody of traditional "cat and mouse" cartoons such as Tom and Jerry. Jones based the Coyote on Mark Twain's book Roughing It,[3] in which Twain described the coyote as "a long, slim, sick and sorry-looking skeleton" that is "a living, breathing allegory of Want. He is always hungry." The Coyote uses absurd contraptions and elaborate plans to pursue his quarry. But he failed. One cartoon turned into many. Why was this series so successful? Because people identified with the coyote. He’d look at the camera, a lot, and the facial expressions he made. Plan after plan to try and catch the roadrunner, but the boulder would fall on his head, the cliff would break away, the rocket would explode. No matter what, disaster, and he’d look at you. Why me? Perhaps the most famous was the time, at a road that was out, on the edge of a cliff, he painted a picture of a road that kept going. The idea was the road runner would come along. Run trough the painting. Gravity would take over. At the bottom of this precipice, cliff, road runner pancake. The road runner comes along, ‘beep beep’ and instead of running through the picture, runs into it… not into like a wall, but into it, and up the painted road and off into the distance. The coyote obviously thinks, ‘If him, why not me?’ and so he tries to run into it, but instead through it, and falls down the cliff. Splat. Coyote pancakes. The reason we connect with the coyote is not because we feel sympathetic that he can’t catch the road runner, the road runner is not his nemesis. It is the universe. Gravity itself is out to get him. The road runner defies gravity constantly, but not the coyote. The universe seems to wait for him, then splat. Coyote pancakes. No matter how smart Wile E., or wily, Coyote is, the universe is stacked against him. We feel like that sometimes.

55 adapted from White, Stories for Telling. 172

Surprise, Berea College President and girls dorm

Years ago, at Berea College, the President got wind of a little mischief that was going on at his school. It seemed that the boys were sneaking the into the girls dorm late at night. The boys would go over to the dorm and toss a pebble up to the second floor window. The girls would lower a rope down with a bucket tied to the end of it. The guy would then step in it and several girls would pull him up. So one night, the President decided to catch them in the act. He went outside the girl’s dorm. He took a pebble and threw it up to the window. The window opened and down came the bucket at the end of the rope. He put his foot in, held on tight, and they began to pull him up. When he got to the top, they were surprised that the president of the school was right there out their window. So surprised that they let go of the rope. President William G. Frost was dropped, and he broke his arm. Surprise! Laughter in Appalachia, p.54.

Surprise, Blind man (selling blinds) woman in towel.

A lady just out of the bath heard a knock at her apartment door. “Who is it?” she asked. “Blind man,” was the reply. “It’s only a blind man,” she thought, ‘looking for a donation, why bother to get dressed for a blind man.” She hid behind the door as she opened it with donation in hand. A young man walked right in. “Here are the blinds you ordered. Where would you like them?” Surprise!

Surprise, Chaos, Baxter Black, truck hit culvert, life surprises even when you think you’re in control

Baxter Black, C.D. and Howard were stayin' out at the ranch and had built tip a pretty good pile of dirty clothes. C.D. loaded it all in the pickup, weighed it down with the toolbox, and took off for town. A month of start-and-stop drivin' around the ranch had resulted in carbon buildup in his diesel, so he took the opportunity on a long stretch of gravel to blow it out. He had it up to seventy and was watchin' blue smoke and gravel spread out behind him like the rooster tail on a speedboat. . Just then a gust of wind blew his hat off. He reached over to retrieve it off the right-hand floorboard. When he looked up, the road was swervin' out from under him as it curved to meet the highway blacktop. He bounced over the bar ditch out into the sagebrush, still in control. It was then that Lady Luck pulled the tablecloth out from under his dirty dish. He hit a concrete culvert. . . head on. It stopped him like a tree trunk stops an arrow! The steering wheel broke off in his hand, and the pickup stood on its nose. Wrenches, sockets, hammers, socks, pliers, shirts, underwear, screwdrivers, Levi's, and a Handyman jack catapulted over his head, ricocheting off rocks and cactus for two hundred yards down range. The pickup teetered upright, then plopped back down on its belly. C.D. staggered out and started pickin' hankies and T-shirts off the brush and diggin' tools outta the dirt. (Car on highway stopped to help). Suddenly, a shot whizzed by his ear, tearing a hole in the only overshoe he'd found. He looked over his shoulder to see his vehicle. . . burning! Another shot came from the flaming unit. It was then C.D. remembered the full box of .243 cartridges under the seat. He ran for the cover of a little arroyo. As the shooting continued like the Fourth of July, he poked his head up to survey the scene. Between himself and the melting truck, which was now sending billows of black smoke as far as Wagon Mound, were tattered pieces of dirty clothes draped on the native flora, like toilet paper in the neighbor's tree. An out-of-state car came down the highway and slowed. They peered out the window. C.D. stood up from behind his camouflage and waved a pair of jockey shorts. He shouted, "Help!" Unfortunately it 173 was drowned out by the last .243 shell that exploded simultaneously. The tourists calmly turned their heads, rolled up the windows, and drove on, no doubt unimpressed by their first alien cowboy sighting.

Surprise, didn’t get it, Expectations

A couple from Pennsylvania were traveling in Mississippi. They stopped in the town of Natchez for a fast food lunch. They were debating the name of the town they were in. One thought it was a French “Natchaaa”. The other thought it ended in a long “e” sound. “Natchee”. When they stepped up to the counter, the couple decided to settle the argument once and for all. “Could you please tell me where we are, and say it very slowly.” The cashier leaned over the counter and said slowly, “Burgerrrr Kiiiing.”

Laughter comes when we expect one answer or situation but are surprised by something different.

A husband and wife were getting dressed for a formal dinner party. The woman was putting on her long gown that zipped in the back. “Honey?” she asked, “could you help me with my dress?” He came over to her, grabbed her zipper and yanked it up and down several times yelling, “Zip! Zip! Zip! Zip!” He thought he was quite amusing and walked away laughing at himself. She didn’t think it was that funny and so she swore to herself that she would get him back for amusing himself at her expense. A week later, she came home and saw blue jeaned legs sticking out from under the car. ‘He’s changing the oil’ she thought to herself. She quietly walked over and grabbed the zipper on his jeans and yanked it up and down yelling, “Zip! Zip! Zip! Zip!” She walked inside laughing at herself to see her husband standing there with the refrigerator door open.

Laughter, when we expect one thing yet see another.

An older fellow went to the doctor for a checkup. The doctor asked him routine questions for first time visitors. The doctor examined him and found that he ws in surprisingly good health for a man at age 77. “How was your father’s health?” the doctor asked. “Fine,” was the reply. “What did he die of?” “I never said he died,” the man replied. “What about your grandfather, what did he die of?” “I never said he died,” the man replied. “He’s still alive?” the doctor asked. “How old is he?” “117. In fact, I’m going to his wedding this Saturday. He’s marrying a young girl of 23.” “23?” the doctor asked, “why would a 117 year old man want to marry a young girl of age 23.” “I never said he wanted to….”

Think: Kierkegaard

Men do not seem to have acquired speech in order to conceal their thoughts…but in order to conceal the fact that they have no thoughts. Kierkegaard, Journal 1844. ======174

Rationalization is a cover-up, a process of providing one’s emotions with a false identity, of giving them spurious explanations and justifications—in order to hide one’s motives, not just from others, but primarily from oneself. The price of rationalizing is the hampering, the distortion and, ultimately, the destruction of one’s cognitive faculty. Rationalization is a process not of perceiving reality, but of attempting to make reality fit one’s emotions. Ayn Rand ======

Forget safety. Live where you fear to live. Destroy your reputation. Be notorious. I have tried prudent planning long enough. From now on, I’ll be mad. Rumi

Time, nothing lasts

Tolkien is famous for his books the Lord of the Rings. I want to begin with the first book, The Hobbit. In Tolkien’s series, the main characters are small creatures with furry feat called hobbits. Hobbits love their homes and they hate adventures. Only a few are ever willing to leave their village. One of the few was the hobbit, Bilbo Baggins. At the encouragement of a wizard, he goes off with a group of dwarves on a treasure hunt. While on this adventure, he gets separated from the group, lost deep in mountain caves. He is in quite a fix. If he wanders around these caves he would surely be caught by orcs, terrible creatures that inhabited the caves, and they would kill him or worse. So, there he is, lost in the dark. In this deep cavern, he encounters a frightening reptilian creature called Gollum because of the “Gollum” sound he makes. In desperation he makes a deal with Gollum. If he can outsmart him in a battle of wits, then Gollum will show him the way out. If Gollum wins the battle of the brains, then Bilbo will consent to letting Gollum have him for dinner – literally! It is a life or death competition. Then Gollum asks, “This thing all things devours: Birds, beasts, trees, flower; Gnaws iron, bites steel; Grinds hard stones to meal; slays king, ruins town, And beats high mountains down.” Bilbo wondered what could devour all things including birds and beasts and trees and flowers, iron, steel, kings and mountains? He thought of all the horrible names of giants he had ever heard about in tales or read about in books. None of them could destroy all those things. He was sure that the answer must be something different than a giant, but what? “This thing all things devours: Birds, beasts, trees, flower; Gnaws iron, bites steel; Grinds hard stones to meal; slays king, ruins town, And beats high mountains down.” What could it be? Sensing that Bilbo didn’t know the answer, Gollum started moving closer to him. 175

Bilbo was frightened. He wanted to shout out: “Give me more time! Give me time!” but all that came out with a sudden squeal was : “Time! Time” Bilbo was saved by pure luck. For that of course was the answer. “This thing all things devours: This thing is time. Time all things devours: Birds, beasts, trees, flower; Time gnaws iron, bites steel; Grinds hard stones to meal; Time slays king, ruins town, And beats high mountains down. Time. The riddle exposed the power of time. It can bring the high low and the low high. A king gave one of his servants a challenge, he said, “Go and find a ring that will make a happy person sad and a sad person happy.” He thought it impossible, so did the servant. He searched the jewlers and merchant in every surrounding village and kingdom, then he returned years later. The king was surprised to see him with a ring. He looked at it and nodded his head. Surely this was a ring that would make a sad person happy and a happy person sad. The ring had an inscription. The inscription read, “This too shall pass.” The power of time. If suffering, “This too shall pass.” If enjoying the wealth of your kingdom, “This too shall pass.” The power of time.

Tradition and Patterns: Stuck: Borshka the Bear

Borshka, the dancing circus bear, lived in a cage. The cage was so small that all he could do was take three steps in one direction, turn around, and take three steps back. When it was time for him to perform, his trainer would put a large chain around his neck and lead him out to the circus crowd. When his performance was over, his trainer would lead him back to his cage. In his cage, he could take three steps forward, turn around, and three steps back. The circus shut down. There were no shows, only the cage for Borshka. After some time, a man came to see the circus and felt sorry for the poor bear who once was a star but now lived in a cage where he could only take three steps forward and three steps back. The man bought Borshka from the circus, took him cage and all on a long train ride to the edge of the mountains. He had the conductor stop the train. They took Borshka, cage and all off the train. The man opened up the cage door, Borshka stepped out. He saw the beautiful mountains with all the trees. In the distance he could see a water fall with crisp clear water and probably a stream with lots of fish. Then Borshka, in the middle of the wilderness, did what he always did - took three steps forward, and three steps back. Three steps forward, and three steps back. This week, in some way, try four steps forward, and four steps back… and pay attention to your commitment to your patterns.

Tradition: habits: cat in church sanctuary, stuck in patterns, churches, institutions,

A cat would get in a church sanctuary on Sunday morning, meow loudly, and rub against the legs of parishioners under the pews startling many and disturbing more. So, to keep the cat from disrupting the Sunday Service, each Sunday morning, an elder in the church would catch the cat and tie it up 176 outside. That happened every Sunday for ten years. After ten years, the cat died. The following Sunday, with no cat to tie up, the elder on duty roamed the streets of the town, found another cat, took it to the church, and tied it up outside. In your life, look at your patterns. Do you see any that have become sacred traditions for reasons since forgotten?

Transformation not Change, stuck in old ways QWERTYUIOP

The title for today’s sermon is “Transforming QWERTYUIOP”. Can anyone look at those letters and tell me where you have seen them before in that order? On a typewriter or keyboard. Right above asdfghjkl; is qwertyuiop. Does anyone know why they are in that order? Back in the late 1800’s, Sholes and Company was a leading manufacturer of typewriters (parents explain to your children what a typewriter is). They received many complaints about the typewriter keys sticking together. The operators could type faster than the keys could handle and they would jam up. The engineers for Sholes and Co. discussed the problem and then came up with this solution. “What if we slowed the typists down? Then the keys wouldn’t jam.” The result was to have an inefficient keyboard configuration – qwertyuiop. O and I are two of the most frequently used letters in the English language, andyet the engineers positioned them on the key board so the relatively weaker ring fingers and little fingers had to press them. It worked. The problem – here we are in an era where typewriters are nonexistent and keyboards are faster than ever, but we still use an inefficient system.56

transformation, change, church resistance to growth And so, it is not astonishing that, though the patient enters therapy insisting that he wants to change, more often than not, what he really wants is to remain the same and to get the therapist to make him feel better. His goal is to become a more effective neurotic, so that he may have what he wants without risking getting into anything new. He prefers the security of known misery to the misery of unfamiliar insecurity. Sheldon Kopp The 1951 British Film The Man in the White Suit. Alec Guiness, plays an engineer who invents an indestructible fiber that never wears out and never gets dirty. At first, the other workers and his bosses love him. A fiber that never needs cleaning! Never wears out! The world will be transformed! Well, then they think about it. The realize what this new revolutionary fiber would do to the market. The mills would go out of business. Naively, Guiness is ready to announce his new fiber. Another worker tells him he’s naïve. His isn’t the first revolutionary product. “What do you think happened to all the other things? The razor blade that never gets blunt? The car that runs on water with a pinch of something in it? They’ll never let your stuff on the market in a million years… Your stuff never wears out, we’ll only have one lot of it to make. That’s lovely, six month’s work and every mill in the country will be closed.” The result is the movie has both the mill owners and the workers chasing Sid so they can get rid of him and his fiber. Anytime a prophet talks about real change, we run them out of town… or worse. That’s piñata with the prophet. Look what we did to Jesus.

5656 Roger Von Oech, A Whack in the Side of the Head. 177

Trust: keeping secrets

In the mountains of Switzerland is a monastery. And once, during the deepest part of winter, when snow covered all the roads to and from the monastery, a traveler came knocking at the door. He was frost bitten and almost dead. The monks brought him in and took care of him. That night, he asked the chief monk, "Sir, you have done me such a great service for I was lost and would have died if you hadn't taken me in. But I need to ask you for another favor." "What is it?" asked the monk. "Could I have brought to my room: a phillips screwdriver, an old shoe with a hole worn in the bottom, a ribbon from a typewriter with some of the keys broken, a green jelly bean, a pair of scissors with a rusty handle, a ripe tomato, and a trombone with a worn mouthpiece?" "Yes, I think we have all those things," said the chief monk, and they all were brought to his room. That night such a noise came out of the man's room. The next night, the man approached the chief monk and said, "Sir, you have done me such a great service for I was lost and would have died if you hadn't taken me in. Could I trouble you a little more and have brought to my room: a phillips screwdriver, an old shoe with a hole worn in the bottom, a ribbon from a typewriter with some of the keys broken, a green jelly bean, a pair of scissors with a rusty handle, a ripe tomato, and a trombone with a worn mouthpiece?" And again those items were brought to the man's room and again he made such a noise. The same thing happened every night that week. The man came to the chief monk and asked for: a phillips screwdriver, an old shoe with a hole worn in the bottom, a ribbon from a typewriter with some of the keys broken, a green jelly bean, a pair of scissors with a rusty handle, a ripe tomato, and a trombone with a worn mouthpiece?" The chief monk at the end of the week and said, "I have been watching you all week getting these peculiar items. Could you tell me what you are doing with them." "Oh," said the man, "it is the most amazing thing. Come inside and I will show you, but you must promise that you won't tell anyone." "I give you my word," said the chief monk. And he went inside and saw the most amazing thing that the man did with the phillips screwdriver, the old shoe with a hole worn in the bottom, the ribbon from a typewriter with some of the keys broken, the green jelly bean, the pair of scissors with a rusty handle, the ripe tomato, and the trombone with a worn mouthpiece. Do you know what it was? No one does. The chief monk was the only one who saw and he said that he wouldn't tell. He kept his secret and so no one knows. Barber told me.

Truth: beyond what you call it: donkey and number of legs.

A politician, famous for spinning the truth, finished giving his speech in the village and asked if there were any questions. Sophia called out, “That donkey over there in the field, how many legs does it have?” Frustrated by the question, but knowing that Sophia carried great respect in the village, he answered, “Four.” “What if you call the tail a leg, then how many legs would he have?” Sophia asked. “Five,” answered the politician. “No,” said Sophia, it doesn’t matter what you call it. The tail is still a tail.” And with that, she walked away.

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Violence, contempt, John Gottman why marriages fail

John Gottman wrote Why Marriages Succeed or Fail, a very interesting book, but the most interesting part is what I’m going to share with you this morning. Gottman asserts that marriages fail, most often, not because of conflict, but how we deal with conflict. This applies to friendships, working relationships, and parenting. He attributes failure in marriages to the presence of, what he calls, the “Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse:” criticism, contempt, defensiveness, and stonewalling.

1. Criticism. Criticism is more than challenging what someone is doing. Say you’re painting a room, criticism is not, “You’re putting too much paint on your roller.” Criticism, for Gottman, is “You are so sloppy, you’re getting paint everywhere.” Hear the difference? Criticism involves attacking your partner’s personality or character, rather than focusing on the specific behavior that bothers you. This is the difference between saying, “I’m upset that you didn’t take out the trash” and saying, “I can’t believe you didn’t take out the trash. You’re just so irresponsible.” Hear the difference? It is not a question of behavior, but character. “You are so…” This also shows up when the present action is tied to the past, “You always…” “or “You never…” “You always do things like that, just thinking about yourself, of your needs.” “Or you never listen.” Criticism involves attacking someone character, rather than behavior, usually with blame. Okay is, “I’d like for us to go out more.” Complaint is, “You never take me anywhere.” Okay is, “I came home to dirty dishes in the sink. I thought you were going to wash them.” Complaint is, “There are still dirty dishes in the sink. You aren’t trustworthy.” This isn’t just how we talk to someone, but about them when they aren’t around. Criticizing character rather than behavior. 2. Contempt. Contempt is one step up from criticism and involves tearing down or being insulting toward your partner. Contempt is an open sign of disrespect. Examples of contempt include: putting down your spouse, rolling your eyes or sneering, or tearing down the other person with so-called “humor.” Contempt is an assault on a person’s sense of self. These include name calling, or sarcasm, and body language. Sneering, rolling your eyes, curling upper lip.

3. Defensiveness. Adopting a defensive stance in the middle of conflict may be a natural response, but does not help the relationship. When a person is defensive, he or she often experiences a great deal of tension and has difficulty tuning into what is being said. Denying responsibility, making excuses, or meeting one complaint with another are all examples of defensiveness.

4. Stonewalling. People who stonewall simply refuse to respond. Occasional stonewalling can be healthy, but as a typical way of interacting, stonewalling during conflict can be destructive to the marriage. When you stonewall on a regular basis, you are pulling yourself out of the marriage, rather than working out your problems. Men tend to engage in stonewalling much more often than women do.

All couples will engage in these types of behaviors at some point in their marriage, but when the four 179 horsemen take permanent residence, the relationship has a high likelihood of failing. In fact, Gottman’s research reveals that the chronic presence of these four factors in a relationship can be used to predict, with over 80% accuracy, which couples will eventually divorce. When attempts to repair the damage done by these horsemen are met with repeated rejection, Gottman says there is over a 90% chance the relationship will end in divorce.

Violence, ending, forgiveness a choice, a way of life, peace of Christ difficult, different than justice as punishment, Native American parents

True story. In a Native American congregation in northern California, there were two young men who grew up in his congregation. Jimmy Brown was reared by his single mother, Marie. He had a small mental handicap, but had done well within his limitations; he was the night custodian at the Post Office, and had even become an elder in the little church. Robbie Boyd was reared by his single father, George. Unlike Jimmy, he drifted away from the church, started drinking heavily, and fell in with a rough crowd. One night he and his friends went to the Post Office to harass Jimmy Brown. One thing led to another. They killed him. Both families pulled out of the church, as might be expected. But some years later Marie Brown came back. And eventually, so did George Boyd. One Sunday George came late to the worship service, searched for somewhere to sit, and saw only one place left-next to Marie. So he took it. That morning the congregation was celebrating the Lord's Supper. Woody wondered what would happen when the elements were passed, and what he saw was this: when George handed Marie the bread he said, "The love of Christ be with you," and she responded, "And with you." When he handed her the cup he said, "The peace of Christ be with you," and she responded," And with you."

Violence, eye for an eye, Biblical illiterate of love enemies

As Presbyterians, we are probably not far off the average American. In America, where so many profess faith in God, most Americans cannot name the first book of the Bible; only half of American adults can name even one of the four gospels; only one third know that Jesus (not Billy Graham) delivered the Sermon on the Mount. 10% Believe that Joan of Arc was Noah’s wife. Our lack of Biblical knowledge is not only hurting us as people of faith, it is hurting us as a nation. Because we don’t know the Bible, we don’t know how to relate or talk to people who have a simple knowledge, certain they know the will of God for them, for you, for the world. Those people are dangerous. A jury in Colorado was struggling with whether or not to sentence to death a man who was convicted in a kidnap murder case. A member of the jury, I believe the foreman, said, that the man should be sentenced to death because the Bible says, "an eye for eye, tooth for tooth ... whoever ... kills a man shall be put to death." No one argued. The sentence was overturned and the federal appeals court upheld the decision because jurors had inappropriately brought in extraneous material—Bibles.

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The Christian group Focus on the Family complained, "It is a sad day when the Bible is banned from the jury room."

Bible? Wait a minute – in Matthew 5, Jesus said, 38 “You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ 39 But I say to you, Do not resist an evildoer. But if anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also; 40 and if anyone wants to sue you and take your coat, give your cloak as well; 41 and if anyone forces you to go one mile, go also the second mile. 42 Give to everyone who begs from you, and do not refuse anyone who wants to borrow from you. As a follower of Jesus, I have got to take that seriously. They are not easily reconciled. You can’t live in a box, certain that, like my friend knows parenting, you know the Bible, you know what God wants.

Violence, Ghandi, Three Ways Our call as the church is to be people of the third way. Consider the ways we try to respond to evil in the world. We are limited in our thinking. We think there are only two ways. 1. Do nothing. Let evil have its way. Trust in their hearts that sooner or later they’ll stop abusing you. This is very unJohn Waynish. This is the coward’s way. 2. Respond to evil with violence. Be the strongest, the smartest, the most powerful, the most forceful. Compel evil ones into submission. There is something to be said for the second way. In some situations, it works very well. Very effective. Especially in the short run. Find this guy who is shooting people in Washington, use the second way. Don’t wait. Don’t think. The second way, respond to evil with violence is very effective in some circumstances. However, what were finding and will continue to find is that on the world stage it is becoming outdated. I know this idea can be threatening, so listen to me and see what you think. Here’s why I think violence on the world stage is outdated. Our enemies have changed. Our enemies are no longer nations, our enemies are now individuals. Before September 11th, the politic talk was missile shield – protection from rogue nations with nuclear weapons. That’s outdated. Nations aren’t our biggest enemies right now. Individuals are our biggest enemies.

Violence, Jihad

Jihad, the path of God, is love. It is not domination. It is not control. It is not violence. It is attention. It is patience. It is strong for the long haul… and most of all… it brings us together. “What is the way of God?” the scribe asks. “Simple,” replies Jesus. “30you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.” AND “You shall love your neighbor as yourself. JIHAD.

Violence, language, insult, contempt, bless her heart

To insult someone in the south, you can’t just call somebody dumb. You have to be creative about it, like this: That boy, his elevator doesn’t go all the way to the top. That girl, her cheese done slid off her cracker. 181

He’s long on drywall and short on studs. The telephone’s ringing but there’s nobody home. She’s living in a hundred watt world with a forty watt bulb. I know those things may sound kind of cruel. What you transplants need to understand is in the south you can say whatever you want and it is not considered mean as long as you finish it with, “Bless her heart” or “Bless his heart.” He’s as dumb as dirt, bless his heart. She doesn’t have the sense God gave a mule, bless her heart. That girl is so ugly she fell out of the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down, bless her heart. If brains were money, he would be about $.50 short of buying a newspaper, bless his heart. According to Gottman, this kind of thinking and talking about people can destroy a marriage, a family, and I think if we pay attention, even a government…

Violence, language, Robert Fulghum chopping trees

Falling Trees from Robert Fulghum’s All I Really Need to Know I learned in Kindergarten . In the Solomon Islands in the south Pacific some villagers practice a unique form of logging. If a tree is too large to be felled with an ax, the natives cut it down by yelling at it. (Can't lay my hands on the article, but I swear I read it.) Woodsmen with special powers creep up on a tree just at dawn and suddenly scream at it at the top of their lungs. They continue this for thirty days. The tree dies and falls over. The theory is that the hollering kills the spirit of the tree. According to the villagers, it always works. Ah, those poor nave innocents. Such quaintly charming habits of the jungle. Screaming at trees, indeed. How primitive. Too bad thay don't have the advantages of modern technology and the scientific mind. Me? I yell at my wife. And yell at the telephone and the lawn mower. And yell at the TV and the newspaper and my children. I've been known to shake my fist and yell at the sky at times. Man next door yells at his car a lot. And this summer I heard him yell at a stepladder for most of an afternoon. We modern, urban, educated folks yell at traffic and umpires and bills and banks and machines--especially machines. Machines and relatives get most of the yelling. Don't know what good it does. Machines and things just sit there. Even kicking doesn't always help. As for people, well, the Solomon Islanders may have a point. Yelling at living things does tend to kill the spirit in them. Sticks and stones may break our bones, but words will break our hearts.... (Text. Power of words. God created. We should be careful.)

Violence: Always have a choice: What will you do?

I read about a woman refugee in Honduras. She was exiled from her people. In a group, she prayed this moving prayer… In spite of being oppressed, I promise not to oppress. In spite of being exploited by others, I promise not to exploit. In spite of experiencing much suffering, I promise not to cause suffering. In spite of living in a world of lies, I promise not to lie. O Father, help me to live this promise and remove the oppressor mentality from my heart, and to practice justice and truth, so that I may be able to recognize your presence in my life.

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Oppressors had tried to remove all power from her, but she would not let them. She refused to let them take her power to think, to choose, to act. She refused to let them take from her the right to be somebody. Even though I have been oppressed, I will not oppress. Even though I have been exploited, I will not exploit. Even though I’ve been lied to, I will not lie. For I am somebody. I can think. I can choose. I can act. My choices are not made for me.

Violence: choose your response: shame: baptism: identity: Choice: Freedom Riders: Free to choose even in jail: sing and party:

James Farmer, Freedom Riders, group arrested in Missippi. Three charges disobeying an officer, disturbing the peace, inciting to riot. “Move on,” “where” Going into a restaurant for dinner. Arrested. Recruit freedom riders to come and fill up the jails. Stay in jail as long as they could. Make it uncomfortable so they wished they’d never come. Didn’t beat them. So much salt in food couldn’t eat. Chain smokers, no cigarettes, guards blow smoke. No books, paper or pencils, no visitors. Banned from singing. Sang, sang, sang… “Stop that singing! Stop that singing!” Singing raised their moral. Hear them in streets. Closed the windows to cells, open them again. Yell, yet keep singing. “Don’t stop signing we’ll take away your mattresses. Little straw mattresses only comfort they had. Symbol of home. Take it away. Some stopped. One young man said, “Not taking away your mattress, taking away your soul.” Another called back, “Guards! Guards! Guards!” Deputy came running to see what was wrong, “Come get my mattress, I’ll keep my soul.” Song exploded. Everyone started singing again. One freedom rider complaining about the deputy was always calling them, “Boy. You, boys.” “Why does he always call us, ‘Boy’? We’re men. I don’t think we should answer until he calls us, ‘Men’.” “That’s just custom. He doesn’t mean anything derogatory by it.” “I think I’ll ask him. Deputy Tyson, why do you call us, ‘Boy’? Do you mean anything derogatory by it?” “I don’t know nothing ‘bout ‘rogatory, all I know is that if you don’t stop singing, you’ll be singing in the rain.” They started singing even louder. They brought in the fire hoses and hosed out the cells knocking them all around the cells, tumpling over, everything in the cell floating.

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“Deputy Tyson, next time you’re going to do that, bring us some soap so that we can take a shower!”

The beautiful thing about the Freedom Riders is that they didn’t accept others inability to see them as less than human.

Violence: torture: bible use of for support

Let’s get a little closer to home. Randall Balmer, in working on writing his book, THY KINGDOM COME: AN EVANGELICAL’S LAMENT, contacted eight religious right organizations – he asked them to send him a copy of the organization’s position on the use of torture. He received only two replies, both supported the use of torture. These are groups that claim to be pro-life, hear a fetal scream, but torture is okay. Jesus pointed us to the way here, let’s judge others by their powerful acts of compassion. Then

Vision for kingdom: Integrity, Congress, way

Maybe I’m too much of an idealist, but I can’t live with that. I want a higher standard of integrity than Presidents, for Senators, and for Congress men and women than for any other people in public life. Rob Nelson in his book, Last Call, says What does it say about us as a nation when we not longer to expect those given the sacred task of governing our country to have to meet a higher standard of integrity than the standard we impose on the guy who fixes our car?57 To give up hope for the character of people in power is to give up hope for all of public life. Nelson goes on to say that with our expectations for public officials went our hope for the future. In the 1960’s we dreamed of ending racism poverty and crime. Today we scaled those dreams down. No more talking about ending poverty, just putting an end to welfare. No more talk of ending racism, just creating separate but equal. No more talk of ending crime, just of tougher laws.58

Vision, Bold Living

They leave us with a dissatisfaction that Author William McNamara described well, My grievance with contemporary society is with its decreptitude. There are few towering pleasures to allure me, no beauty to bewitch me, nothing (passionate) to arouse me, no intellectual circles or positions to challenge or provoke me, no burgeoning philosophies or theologies and no new art to catch my attention or engage my mind, no arousing political, social or religious movements to stimulate or excite me. There are no free man to lead me. No saints to inspire me. No sinners sinful enough to either impress me or share my plight. No one human enough to validate the "going" lifestyle. It's hard to linger in that dull world without being dulled. I stake the future on the few humble and hearty lovers who seek God passionately in the marvelous, messy world of redeemed and related realities that lie in front of our noses.

Journey Quotes:

57Rob Nelson, Last Call, p.34. 58 Nelson, p.35. 184

"Faith is walking face-first and full-speed into the dark. If we truly knew all the answers in advance as to the meaning of life and the nature of God and the destiny of our souls, our belief would not be a leap of faith and it would not be a courageous act of humanity; it would just be... a prudent insurance policy." — Elizabeth Gilbert

"unless it comes out of your soul like a rocket, unless being still would drive you to madness or suicide or murder, don't do it. unless the sun inside you is burning your gut, don't do it. when it is truly time, and if you have been chosen, it will do it by itself and it will keep on doing it until you die or it dies in you. there is no other way. and there never was." — Charles Bukowski

"There is a candle in your heart, ready to be kindled. There is a void in your soul, ready to be filled. You feel it, don't you?" — Rumi

You risked your life, but what else have you ever risked? Have you risked disapproval? Have you ever risked economic security? Have you ever risked a belief? I see nothing particularly courageous about risking one's life. So you lose it, you go to your hero's heaven and everything is milk and honey 'til the end of time. Right? You get your reward and suffer no earthly consequences. That's not courage. Real courage is risking something that might force you to rethink your thoughts and suffer change and stretch consciousness. Real courage is risking one's clichés." — Tom Robbins "Do not be naive. Criminals cannot go unpunished. Nor can heroes." — Devin Grayson (Inheritance)

"If you haven't lost the path, you haven't found the way." — R.N. Prasher

"In the hero stories, the call to go on a journey takes the form of a loss, an error, a wound, an unexplainable longing, or a sense of a mission. When any of these happens to us, we are being summoned to make a transition. It will always mean leaving something behind,...The paradox here is that loss is a path to gain." — David Richo (How to Be an Adult: A Handbook for Psychological and Spiritual Integration)

"For some reason, the most vocal Christians among us never mention the Beatitudes (Matthew 5). But, often with tears in their eyes, the demand that the Ten Commandments be posted in public buildings. And of course, that's Moses, not Jesus. I haven't heard one of them demand that the Sermon on the Mount, the Beatitudes, be posted anywhere. "Blessed are the merciful" in a courtroom? "Blessed are the peacemakers" in the Pentagon? Give me a break!" — Kurt Vonnegut (A Man Without a Country)

Stoning prophets and erecting churches to their memory afterwards has been the way of the world through the ages. Today we worship Christ, but the Christ in the flesh we crucified." — Mahatma Gandhi

Integrity

John Claypool tells this story, a blue-collar worker who was injured on the job. He had to spend some time in the hospital and piled up considerable medical bills. After he had gotten through that, he filed for Workmen's Compensation and, in due time, was given a very generous settlement.

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Now, this was a simple man. He didn't have a bank account; he didn't live in the world of checks and of statements. And therefore, what he decided to do was to get a neighbor to take him to a store where he was known to cash the check. It was about $3,000. His intention was to take the money and go to the hospital, go to the doctors, and settle his affairs in that way. As the neighbor was taking him home after the check had been cashed, he offered to treat him to dinner. And so they stopped at a little restaurant and, unbeknown to the worker, the wallet with all of the insurance money slipped out of his pocket. Well, the next morning, when he went to get his money to go settle his accounts, he couldn't find it. He was distraught; he turned the house upside down. Then he called his neighbor and said, "Please look in your car to see if you can find it," because he could not. So the two of them began to anxiously retrace their steps of the day before. They went to the store where the checked was cashed but it was not to be found. Then they went back to the restaurant and he went to the manager and said very nervously, "Did you by chance find a billfold last night with lots of cash in it?" And the manager said, "You know, in truth, we did. How much cash was in it?" The man told him down to the last penny. The manager said, "Actually, our best and oldest waitress, Daisy, found this wallet last night down in one of the booths. She brought it over. It had no identification so we didn't know who to call. I am so glad that you have come back." With that, he raced into the safe and handed the man over his billfold with every cent intact. When this happened, the worker was so absolutely relieved that he broke down and wept. They were tears of relief, tears of gratitude, tears of real joy. When he got himself composed he said, "Could I speak to the waitress who did this?" The manager called a lady. Her name was Daisy, a simple country woman, a widow, a grandmother, a person who had to skimp and save all her life just to keep things together. She was a person for whom $3,000 is a windfall. It would have made a great difference. When he thanked her for what she had done she said, "You know, I never gave it a second thought. I was raised by the golden rule. I try to do for other people what I would like for them to do for me if the roles were reversed." She said, "If I had lost my money, I would hope that somebody would give it back and not steal it and, therefore, I didn't even think about it. I am so glad that it is back in your hands."

Integrity: honesty: rich man become monk not going to lie for two donkeys

In a faraway place and a long-ago time, there was once a rich man who gave all his money to the poor, joined a band of hermits and went ot live with them in the desert and worship God. One day the man was sent to town with another hermit to sell two donkeys that had grown old and could no longer carry their burdens. He went and stood in the marketplace where shoppers looking for donkeys came to ask if his were worth buying, “If they were worth buying do you think we’d be selling them? he replied. “Ánd why do they have such ragged backs and tails”? He was asked. “Because they’re old and stubborn,” he said. “We have to pull their tails and thrash them to make them move.” Since there were no buyers for the donkeys, the man returned with them to the desert, where his companion told the other monks what had happened. All of them demanded to know why he had frightened the buyers away. “Do you imagine for a moment,” he answered, “That I left home and gave everything away, all my camels and cattle and sheep and goats in order to make a liar of myself for the sake of two old donkeys? 186

Action, Hero, not about success but about WAY

According to Joseph Campbell author of The Hero with a Thousand Faces, The Power of Myth, and many other books, the hero typically must go on a great journey. He must deal with fabulous forces where the hero must survive a series of trials. The hero wins a decisive victory and then returns to enrich the world. In how we think of heroes, the definitive characteristic is survival. If the hero doesn’t survive the trials he faces, if he doesn’t win the decisive victory then he is a victim, not a hero. Campbell related a true story of a hero in Hawaii. There is a place called the Pali, where the winds from the north come rushing through a great ridge of mountains. People like to go up there to get their hair blown about. One day, two policemen were driving up the Pali road when they saw just beyond the railing that keeps the cars from rolling over, a young man preparing to jump. The police car stopped, and the policeman on the right jumped out to grab the man but caught him just as he jumped, and he was being pulled over when the second cop arrived in time and pulled the two of them back. Later, a newspaper reporter asked the first policeman, “Why didn’t you let go when you were being pulled over the edge? You would have been killed.” His reported answer was, “I couldn’t let go. If I had let that young man go, I couldn’t have lived another day of my life.”59

Pain, sacrifice, don’t avoid choices just because they are hard, Scott Peck, know heroes by our scars

Scott Peck, author of The Road Less Traveled, wrote of sacrifice, At the core of Christian doctrine there is the strange concept of sacrifice. I don’t think it means that we need to sacrifice ourselves masochistically at every turn. But…at the very least what it means is that whenever there is a decision to be made, an alternative shouldn’t be discarded simply because it is sacrificial.”60 – simply because it might cost us. That’s why we love the mythical heroes. They give of themselves for humanity – but at no cost. What Jesus told Peter was, I’m not that kind of hero. And what he told the disciples and us is that as his people we aren’t going to be that kind of people. We are called to make sacrifices. We are called to be bruised. We are called to bleed. Barbara Brown Taylor said the way you know us as Jesus’ followers is the same way you know the Christ, not by our muscles but by our scars. Love: choice: When you love, give it everything you have got. And when you have reached your limit, give it more, and forget the pain of it. Because as you face your death, it is only the love that you have given and received which will count, All the rest: the accomplishments, the struggle, the fights will be forgotten in your reflection. If you have loved well then it will all have been worth it. And the joy of it will last you through the end. But if you have not, death will always come too soon and be too terrible to face. – Richard Allen

59 Campbell, p.110. 60 Scott Peck, Further Along the Road Less Traveled, p.199. 187

Gratitude

I want to tell you about Eddie Rickenbacker. In 1942 he was flying over the South Pacific in a B-17 known as “The Flying Fortress”. Somewhere over the ocean, the crew became lost, the fuel ran out and the plane went down. All eight crew members escaped into the life rafts. They battled the weather, the water, the sharks, and the sun. But most of all, they battled hunger. After eight days, their rations were gone. They ran out of options. They knew it would take a miracle for them to survive. A miracle occurred. The men knew that they would soon die. They prayed to God turning the situation over to him, knowing it was out of their hands. As Rickenbacker was dozing with his hat over his eyes, something landed on his head. He knew it was a sea gull. That gull meant food…if he could only catch it. He did. The meat was eaten and the intestines were used as bait to catch fish. They never knew what a gull was doing hundreds of miles from shore. But Eddie never forgot. He was thankful. Eddie went every Friday evening to the pier with a bucket full of shrimp and a heart full of gratitude.61 The opposite of pride is gratitude. Gratitude realizing that so much of our lives are not about us. So much of our lives don’t come from us but from the sacrificial gifts of others. Thanksgiving is not just a holiday, it is a way of life.

Love: Alignment: River Runs Through It

Excerpts from the beginning of A River Runs Through It by Norman Maclean. In our family, there was no clear line between religion and fly fishing. We lived at the junction of great trout rivers in western Montana, and our father was a Presbyterian minister and a fly fisherman who tied his own flies and taught others. He told us about Christ's disciples being fishermen, and we were left to assume, as my brother and I did, that all first-class fishermen on the Sea of Galilee were fly fishermen and that John, the favorite, was a dry-fly fisherman. … As a Scot and a Presbyterian, my father believed that man by nature was a mess and had fallen from an original state of grace. Somehow, I early developed the notion that he had done this by falling from a tree. As for my father, I never knew whether he believed God was a mathematician but he certainly believed God could count and that only by picking up God's rhythms were we able to regain power and beauty. Unlike many Presbyterians, he often used the word "beautiful." After he buttoned his glove, he would hold his rod straight out in front of him, where it trembled with the beating of his heart. Although it was eight and a half feet long, it weighed only four and a half ounces. It was made of split bamboo cane from the far-off Bay of Tonkin. It was wrapped with red and blue silk thread, and the wrappings were carefully spaced to make the delicate rod powerful but not so stiff it could not tremble. Always it was to be called a rod. If someone called it a pole, my father looked at him as a sergeant in the United States Marines would look at a recruit who had just called a rifle a gun. My brother and I would have preferred to start learning how to fish by going out and catching a few, omitting entirely anything difficult or technical in the way of preparation that would take away from the fun. But it wasn't by way of fun that we were introduced to our father's art. If our father had had his say, nobody who did not know how to fish would be allowed to disgrace a fish by catching him…

61 Max Lucado, In the Eye of the Storm, p.225-6. 188

My father was very sure about certain matters pertaining to the universe. To him, all good things— trout as well as eternal salvation—come by grace and grace comes by art and art does not come easy. In the Maclean family, fishing is not what you do… a fisherman is what you are… In our family, there was no clear line between religion and fly fishing. After he buttoned his glove, he would hold his rod straight out in front of him, where it trembled with the beating of his heart. If our father had had his say, nobody who did not know how to fish would be allowed to disgrace a fish by catching him… In the Maclean family, fishing is not what you do… a fisherman is what you are… It’s not part of your life, but part of your identity, part of who you are. In the text, Jesus says, “I will make you fish for people.” That’s not a very good translation. A more literal translation is “I will make you fishers of people.” Part of who you are. Shhhhhhhhhh. You don’t want to wake the beaver… that’s right, the beaver…. shhhh

Humility, servant’s heart, missed presence of President Jimmy Carter, expectations, anyone can serve

A woman once was visiting in Plains, Georgia. She was a great admirer of former President Jimmy Carter. She toured the town. She went by Jimmy’s former home and took pictures. She went to Jimmy’s church. She was about to take a picture but there was a man on a lawnmower wearing a big grass hat mowing the grass in front of the church. She motioned for him to move away from the front of the church. He road his mower out of the way, waited for her to finish taking her picture, then went back to cutting the grass. She went by a local diner where the former President is rumored to stop in quite often for a cup of coffee. She asked at the diner, “Is it true that President Carter comes in here quite often?” “More days than not,” was the reply. “I’m a great respecter of the president,” she said. “I sure would like to see him. I’ve been by his house. I’ve been over and took a picture of the church, but I sure would like to see him.” “Well,” said the man behind the counter, “today’s Thursday isn’t it?” “Yes.” “When you were at the church, did you see a man on the lawnmower cutting the grass?” “Yes.” “Did he have a big grass hat?” “Yes.” “Then you saw the president. He cuts the grass at the church on Thursdays.”

Kingdom: Jesus: Party, Dance, Music, Robert Fulghum Dynamic Volcanic Logs Buffalo Tavern: Lord of the Dance

Robert Fulghum in All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten tells of his favorite place to go for fun. It is the Buffalo Tavern. The catalyst for merriment at the Buffalo Tavern is the house band, the Dynamic Volcanic Logs. Eight wanna-be musicians still stuck in the sixties. One night, a motorcycle club dressed like Hell’s Angels invaded the Buffalo Tavern. Their presence filled the bar. The tension was thick between the bikers and the locals. Fulghum felt as if something bad might happen. Then entered an older man, obviously of Native American heritage with braids, beaded vest, and army surplus pants. There are many words in the vernacular that could be used to describe his 189 appearance, but only one word really suited him – ugly – or to be politically correct, he was facially challenged. He sat down at a table. He nursed his Budweiser for a long time as the tension grew between the bikers and the locals. Then it happened. The Dynamic Logs ripped into a scream-out version of “Jailhouse Rock” and the Indian moved. He shuffled over to one of the motorcycle mamas and asked her to dance. Most ladies would have refused, but she was so obviously amused by his personality, she just shrugged her shoulders and stood up. Everyone who wasn’t watching the old Indian soon was for he could dance, really dance. He had all the moves. Nothing wild, just effortless motion, subtle rhythm, a master. He turned his partner every way but loose and made her look good at it. The floor slowly cleared for them. The band wound down and out, but the drummer held the beat. The motorcycle club stood up and shouted for the band to keep playing. The band kept playing. The old man kept dancing. The motorcycle mama finally blew a gasket and collapsed in someone’s lap. The Indian danced on alone. The crowd clapped up the beat. The Indian danced with a chair. The crowd went wild. The band faded. The crowd cheered. The Indian raised up his hand and silenced the crowd. Looking at the band, then the now mixed group of bikers and locals, the Indian said, “Well, what are you waiting for, let’s dance.”62 That Indian came among them with the power of music. He brought them together as one group lifted up from their existence by the joy of simple rhythm. That is the Christ who comes among us bringing music and breaking down our barriers that separate us, uniting us as one group, and lifting us up from our common existence to life – and that everlasting. Today we sang the song, “The Lord of the Dance” which tells the Christ’s story in the first person with the Lord of all describing himself as the Lord of the Dance.

Love for God, what does it mean?

John Caputo professor of philosophy at Syracuse University wrote By religion…I mean something simple, open-ended, and old-fashioned, namely, the love of God. But the expression “love of God” needs some work. Of itself it tends to be a little vacuous and even lsightly sanctimonious. To put it technically, it lacks teeth. So the question we need to ask ourselves is the one Augustine puts to himself in the Confessions, “what do I love when I love God?,” or “what do I love when I love You, my God?” as he also put it, or running these two Augustinian formulations together, “what do I love when I love my God?”…. I love this question in no small part because it assumes that anybody worth their salt loves God. if you do not love God, what good are you? You are too caught up in the meanness of self-love and self- gratification to be worth a tinker’s damn. Your soul soars only with a spike in the Dow-Jones Industrial average; your heart leaps only at the prospect of a new tax break. The devil take you. He already has. Religion is for lovers, for men and women of passion, for real people with a passion for something other than taking profits, people who believe in something, who hope like mad in something, who love something with a love that surpasses understanding. Faith, hope, and love, and of these three the best is love…

Barbara Brown Taylor relates this story. One of the hardest things I do is to celebrate communion at a local nursing home on the poor side of town, where most residents spend their days strapped in wheelchairs against the walls of the television room. Once a month, nurses roll ten or fifteen of them into the sun room and park them in a semicircle around a small table. Some of them complain as I prepare the elements "Get me out of here!

62 Robert Fulghum, All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten, p.123. 190

Take me back to my room right now!" -while others doze or stare or drool. Few stay awake through the whole twenty minute service. When it is time for them to take communion I go from chair to chair, patting them awake and asking I, them if they want the bread and wine. About half let me press the elements to their lips; the rest refuse to be roused or else they look at me as if I am a burglar. It is one of the _ hardest things I do because I sometimes doubt the power of the sacrament to break through their fog. I say all the comfortable words and wonder if anyone hears them. I stand there with my arms raised over the bread and wine and suspect that I might as well be flying a kite. The last time I went was late on a Monday afternoon. One of the volunteers warned me that everyone's medication was wearing off, which was a mixed blessing. My congregation were more awake than usual, but they were also more vocal. I could hardly make myself heard over the din in the room. One woman sang, "Row, row, row your boat" throughout the beginning of the service, bouncing so hard against her restraints that her chair lurched toward me as I read the opening prayers. In a bid for attention, I clapped my hands and asked them to choose the gospel lesson for , the day "What shall I read from the Bible this afternoon?" I asked them. "What part would you like to hear?" The commotion lessened long enough for one old woman's broken voice to be heard above it. "Tell us a resurrection story," she said. I never saw who it was, but as her words settled down over the room the movers and shakers held still for a moment and the sleepers opened their eyes. "Yes," someone else said, and then someone else. "Yes. Tell us a resurrection story."

Edith Lovejoy Pierce “Drum Major for a Dream” Above the shouts and the shots, The roaring flames and the siren’s blare, Listen for the stilled voice of the man Who is no longer there. Above the tramping of the endless line Of marches along the street, Listen for the silent step of the dead man’s invisible feet. Lock doors, put troops at the gate, Guard the legislative halls But tremble when the dead man comes, Whose pirit walks through walls.

Righteousness: Lamed Vavnik: Right relationship, righteous don’t know it, too busy living it,

Mirroring this story is the Jewish legend of the Lamed Vavnik. In the legend, the Lamed Vavnik are ten righteous people living on the earth. For the sake of the ten righteous, God won’t destroy the earth. When one dies, God raises up another. The beauty of the story is that the Lamed Vavnik or ten righteous have no idea who they are. In the parable of the sheep and the goats, when Jesus separates the people, the righteous had no idea they were the righteous, “When O’ Lord did we see you hungry and feed you?” they ask.

Perhaps it is best to understand righteous in terms of ‘right relationship’. Abraham, in contrast to Sodom and Gomorrah, was righteous because he was in right relationship with God.

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Perhaps it is best to understand being righteous as being faithful. That’s the important part of any relationship – faithfulness. The righteous are faithful to the God who created them, loves them, calls them, and like Abraham blesses them so that they can be a blessing.

Love for God: At what price?

The Price of Kissing I would love to kiss you. The price of kissing is your life. Now my loving is running toward my life shouting, What a bargain, let’s buy it.

One of the seven answers, Names, sometimes the names slip away, but it is not forgetfulness. It is our being so absorbed. Then they all say to me, Would you lead us in prayer? Yes. But wait awhile. I am still in some temporal confusion that will be solved by companionship with you. Through companionship with the ground a grapevine grows. It opens into the earth’s darkness and flies. It becomes selfless in the presence of its origin and learns what it really is. They nod, as though to say, Whenever you are ready. That nodding was a flame in my heart. I was freed from hourly time, from sequence and relation.

Let your throat-song be clear and strong enough to make an emperor fall full-length, suppliant, at the door. Rumi

Love for God: Be still and stop hurrying about

Sophia encountered a man always in a hurry. “Why are you rushing so?” Sophia asked. “I am chasing after God,” he replied. “I want to know more, see more, and do more. In pursuit of God, there is no time to waste.” “How do you know,” Sophia asked, “that God is out in front of you for you to run after. God may be pursing you, and to encounter God, all you need to do is stand still, but instead you keep running away.”

Love for God: beyond our desire for safety and rescue.

Sophia attacked the different notions about God that people entertained. “If your God comes to your rescue and gets you out of trouble, it is time you started searching for the true God.” When asked to elaborate, this is the story she told: “A man left a brand-new bicycle unattended at the marketplace while he went about his shopping. He only remembered the bicycle the following day and rushed to the marketplace, expecting it would have been stolen. The bicycle was exactly where he had left it. Overwhelmed with joy, he rushed to a nearby temple to thank God for having kept his bicycle safe only to find, when he got out of the temple, that the bicycle was gone.”

Faith is a leap

Belief as to faith is the difference between a baby bird sitting in the nest flapping its wings and another baby bird actually trying to fly. 192

Anthony de Mello

Kingdom of God: Party

Tony Campolo tells a wonderful story that I think captures who we should be as the church. This is a good story. Tony had traveled to Hawaii for a speaking engagement. He was suffering from jet lag. At three o’clock in the morning, it felt like nine. He wanted breakfast. He left his hotel and went out on the street looking for something to eat. Up a side street he found a little place that was still open, a true “greasy spoon.” He went in and took a seat at the counter. He didn’t even touch the menu for fear if he opened it something gruesome and hideous might crawl out. The large man behind the counter came over and asked. “What do ya want?” “A cup of coffee and a donut,” Tony replied. Those seemed safe enough. The man poured the coffee, wiped his grimy hand on his smudged apron and then grabbed a donut off the shelf behind him. Tony sat there, drinking his coffee, eating his donut when the door of the diner opened and in walked eight or nine prostitutes. They sat on either side of him. Their talk was loud and crude. He felt completely out of place and was just about to make his getaway when he heard the woman sitting beside him say, “Tomorrow’s my birthday. I’m going to be thirty-nine.” Her ‘friend’ responded. “So what do you want from me? A birthday party? What do you want? You want me to get you a cake and sing, ‘Happy Birthday?’” “No, I was just telling you, that’s all. Why do you have to be so mean. Why should you give me a party? I’ve never had a birthday party in my whole life.Why should I have one now?” When Tony heard that, he made a decision. He sat there and waited until the women had left. Then he called over the man behind the counter and asked, “Do they come in here every night?” “Yeah,” he answered. “The one right next to me, does she come here every night?” “Yeah,” he said. “That’s Agnes. Yeah, she comes in here every night. Why do you want to know?” “Because I heard her say that tomorrow is her birthday,” Tony replied. “What do you say you and I do something about it? What do you think about us throwing her a birthday party – right here – tomorrow night?” A smile crossed his chubby cheeks and he yelled, “That’s great! I like it!” Calling to his wife he said, “Hey! Come out here. This guys got a great idea. Tomorrow is Agnes’ birthdayThis guy wants us to go in with him and throw her a birthday party – right here – tomorrow night.” Tony said, “If it’s okay with you, I’ll come back tomorrow morning at 2:30 and decorate the place. I’ll even get the cake.” “No way,” said the man,” the cake’s my thing. I’ll make the cake.” At 2:30, Tony was back at the diner. He picked up some crepe-paper decorations at the store and had made a sign out of big pieces of cardboard that read, “Happy Birthday, Agnes! He decorated the diner from one end ot the other. The cook and his wife must have gotten the word out on the street because by 3:15 every prostitute in Honolulu was in the place. Wall to wall prostitutes and Tony! At 3:30 on the dot, the door of the diner swung open and in came Agnes and her friend and everyone screamed, “Happy Birthday!”

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She was flabbergasted. Her mouth fell open. Her legs seemed to buckle a bit. Her friend grabbed her arm to steady her. As she was led to sit on one of the stools, everyone sang, “Happy Birthday to You.” Then came the cake. When she saw the cake with the candles on it, she openly cried. They yelled, “Blow out the candles, Agnes.” She did. Without taking her eyes off the cake, Agnes said, “Can I…what I want to ask is…is it okay if I keep the cake a little while – if we don’t eat it right away?” “Sure,” said the cook, “it’s your cake.” Looking at Tony, she asked, “I just live down the street, a couple of doors. Can I take the cake home? I’ll be right back.” She got up and walked slowly toward the door with the cake in her hands like the holy grail. Everyone stood there quietly, motionless. When the door closed, Tony, not knowing what to do, broke the silence by saying, “Can we pray?” It just felt like the right thing to do.” When Tony finished his prayer for Agnes, the man leaned over the counter and said with more than a little hostility in his voice, “Hey! You never told me you were a preacher. What kind of church do you belong to?” Tony said, “I belong to a church that throws birthday parties for prostitutes at 3:30 in the morning.” The man waited a minute and said, “No you don’t. There’s no church like that. If there was, I’d join it. I’d join a church like that!”

Love others: Sypmpathy

A little girl in second grade underwent chemotherapy for leukemia. When she returned to school, she wore a scarf to hide the fact that she had lost all her hair. But some of the children pulled it off, and in their nervousness laughed and made fun of her. The little girl was mortified and that afternoon begged her mother not to make her go back to school. Her mother tried to encourage her, saying, “The other children will get used to it, and anyway your hair will grow in again soon.” The next morning, when their teacher walked into class, all the children were sitting in their seats, some still tittering about the girl who had no hair, while she shrank into her chair. “Good morning, children,” the teacher said, smiling warmly in her familiar way of greeting them. She took off her coat and scarf. Her head was completely shaved. After that, a rash of children begged their parents to let them cut their hair. And when a child came to class with short hair, newly bobbed, all the children laughed merrily, not out of fear, but out of the joy of the game. And everybody’s hair grew back at the same time.

Love others: Connection, relationship and not machines, boy and operator on phone

When Paul Villard was a young boy, his family got one of the first telephones in his neighborhood. It was a polished oak case fastened to the wall with a shiny receiver on the side of the box. His phone number? 105. That’s how long ago, a phone number of 105. Paul was too small to reach the receiver, but he listened with fascination to his mother talking to it. One day she even picked him up so he could talk to his father away on business. Amazing, Dad was gone, but Paul could still talk to him. One day, Paul discovered that somewhere inside that little box lived an person, her name was “Information please.” His mother would ask for her anybody’s phone number and she would know it. When the clock ran down, she would just pick up and ask Information Please what time it was. Paul’s first experience with the genie-in-the-receiver came while his mother was next door. Paul was playing on the toolbench in the basement when he whacked his thumb with a hammer. The pain 194 was terrible. He walked around the house sucking his throbbing finger. He didn’t cry, like a lot of kids, he only cried when there was someone around to hear it. Paul saw the telephone, he ran for the footstool, dragged it singlehandedly to the phone. Grabbed the receiver and spoke, “Information please,” and in a few moments a small clear voice said, “Information.” “I hurt my finger!” he yelled into the phone crying now that he had an audience. “Is your mother home?” Information Please asked. “Nobody’s home,” he yelled. "Are you bleeding?" "No", he replied. "I hit it with the hammer and it hurts" "Can you open your icebox?" she asked “Yes.” "Then chip off a little piece of ice and hold it on your finger. That will stop the hurt. Be careful when you use the ice pick," she admonished. "And don't cry. You'll be alright". After that, he called Information Please for everything. He asked for help with his Geography and she told him where Philadelphia was, and the Orinco--the romantic river he was going to explore when I grew up. She helped him with Arithmatic, and she told him that a pet chipmunk he had caught in the park would eat fruits and nuts. One time he was at the telephone, “How do you spell fix?". “F-I-X." At that instant Paul’s sister jumped off the stairs at with a banshee shriek-"Yaaaaaaaaaa!" Paul fell off the stool, pulling the receiver out of the box by its roots. They were both terrified--Information Please was no longer there. Paul thought maybe he killed her when he pulled the receiver out. Minutes later, there was a man on the porch. "I'm a telephone repairman. I was working down the street and the operator said there might be some trouble at this number." When Petey, the pet canary died, Paul called Information Please and told her the sad story. She listened, then said the usual things grown-up say to soothe a child. But he was unconsoled. “Why was it that birds should sing so beautifully and bring joy to whole families, only to end as a heap of feathers feet up, on the bottom of a cage?” She sensed his deep concern, and she quietly said, "Paul, always remember that there are other worlds to sing in." He felt better. All this took place in a small town in the Pacific Northwest. Then, when he was nine years old, the family moved across he country to Boston-and he missed his mentor acutely. Information Please belonged in that old wooden box back at home, and it never dawned on him to try the new phone. Paul grew up, then off to college back in the Pacific Northwest. His plane landed in Seattle. Between plane connections, he called his sister who was married and a mom, no longer jumping out from around corners scaring people. Then he dialed his hometown operator and said, “Informaiton Please.” In a moment, a familiar voice came on. “Information.” “Could you tell me how to spell the word fix.” There was a long pause. Then came the softly spoken answer. "I guess," said Information Please, "that your finger must have healed by now." He laughed. "So it's really still you. I wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me during all that time...." "I wonder," she replied, "if you know how much you meant to me? I never had any children, and I used to look forward to your calls. Silly, wasn't it?" 195

No. It didn't seem silly. Paul told her how often he had thought of her over the years, and he asked if I could call her again when I come back to visit my sister when the semester was over. "Please do,” she said. “Just ask for Sally." "Goodbye Sally." It sounded strange for Information Please to have a name. Paul added, "If I run into any chipmunks, I'll tell them to eat fruits and nuts." "Do that," she said. "And I expect one of these days you'll be off for the Orinoco River. Well, good- bye." Just three months later, Paul was back again at the Seattle airport. A different voice answered, "Information," and Paul asked for Sally. "Are you a friend?" "Yes," Paul said. "An old friend." "Then I'm sorry to have to tell you. Sally had only been working part-time in the last few years because she was ill. She died five weeks ago." Before Paul could hang up, she said, "Wait a minute. Did you say your name was Villard?" "Yes." "Well, Sally left a message for you. She wrote it down." "What was it?" Paul asked. "Here it is, I'll read it-'Tell him I still say there are other worlds to sing in. He'll know what that means. " Paul thanked her and hung up. He did know what Sally meant. She had rules. She had a job. Her job was to give information. Tell numbers. Tell the time. But she didn’t get lost in it. She heard a child, a person, someone on the phone when Paul called. She took the time, she gave the attention, and just like Jesus did with the woman in the synagogue, she lifted him up.

Service makes you a hero

Let me tell you about some heroes coming out in a new book by Barry Schwartz, people Jesus would point to and say, “Look at them.” They are hospital janitors. Their job descriptions include the things you would expect: mop the floors, sweep them, empty the trash, restock the cabinets. It may be a little surprising how many things there are, but it's not surprising what they are. But the one thing I want you to notice about them is this: Even though this is a very long list, there isn't a single thing on it that involves other human beings. Not one. The janitor's job could just as well be done in a mortuary as in a hospital. And yet, when some psychologists interviewed hospital janitors to get a sense of what they thought their jobs were like, they encountered Mike, who told them about how he stopped mopping the floor because Mr. Jones was out of his bed getting a little exercise, trying to build up his strength, walking slowly up and down the hall. And Charlene told them about how she ignored her supervisor's admonition and didn't vacuum the visitor's lounge because there were some family members who were there all day, every day who, at this moment, happened to be taking a nap. And then there was Luke, who washed the floor in a comatose young man's room twice because the man's father, who had been keeping a vigil for six months, didn't see Luke do it the first time, and his father was angry. And behavior like this from janitors, from technicians, from nurses and, if we're lucky now and then, from doctors, doesn't just make people feel a little better, it actually improves the quality of patient care and enables hospitals to run well. These janitors get it. To me, they, and people like them are heroes. They go beyond the rules, the standards, they don’t define themselves by what place they have at society’s table but instead define themselves by what they can give. 196

Reading through the biography of Mark Oldham’s dad, Dortch Oldham, I was amazed at Dortch’s attitude. When he started as a young man, selling books door to door, he had a goal – to achieve, to grow the business, but his goal was clear, not just to achieve as competition, but with contribution as a goal, the more he made, the more he earned, the more he could contribute, and he did.

Love: everyone has story not just a part in your drama: Distractions: Egocentrism, Tom Hanks Syndrome

To hear this text, we have to overcome the Tom Hanks’ syndrome. Tom Hanks has appeared in over 30 movies, in almost everyone he is the star. He starred in: Splash, Dragnet, Big, Philadelphia, The Man with One Red Shoe, who is the man with one red shoe? Tom Hanks.) Sleepless in Seattle, (Who is sleepless in Seattle? Tom Hanks) Forrest Gump, Apollo 13, Toy Story 1 &2, Saving Private Ryan (Is Saving Private Ryan about Private Ryan? No, about Tom Hanks trying to save private Ryan), The Terminal (who is stuck in the terminal, you guessed it! Tom Hanks) and others. He is always the star. Think about his costars, Turner and Hooch (his costar? a big slobbery dog), Castaway (his costar? A volleyball). Those movies weren’t about the big slobbery dog or the volleyball, they were about Tom Hanks. Even in the DaVinci Code, the movie isn’t about DaVinci or Jesus, both DaVinci and Jesus take secondary roles to Tom Hanks. The man has made over 30 films and for the most part who have they all been about? Him. He’s been the star. The Tom Hanks syndrome is when you think life is a movie and you’re the star. The camera is always on you. Attention is always on you. You walk into a room, people are laughing, why are they laughing?, they are laughing about you. Why? Because you are the star. Who are all these people around you? They are just co-stars.

Love: Hyponyms not antonyms

Alfred Adler said it well, People often believe that left and right are contradictions, that man and woman, hot and cold, light and heavy, strong and weak are contradictions. From a scientific viewpoint, they are not contradictions, but varieties. They are degrees of a scale, arranged in accordance with their approximation to some ideal fiction. In the same way, good and bad, normal and abnormal, are not contradictions but varieties.

Love, vulnerability: power: control

C.S. Lewis said it this way. It’s our thought in the bulletin. I hope you take it with you and think about it all week. Put it on your refrigerator. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your own selfishness. But in that casket – safe, dark, motionless, airless – it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell.

Love: marriage, football, two families fighting, patterns

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“Do you, Roger, take this woman to be your wife?” “I do.” “And do you, Rebecca, take this man to be your husband?” “I do.” “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. Let the games begin.” I try and prepare them, those innocent young who come to the church to be married. I try to give them some picture that they have not only chosen each other, they have been chosen by their families, chosen as missionaries, as agents, as representatives. I try to show them how, in their lives up to this point, their families have been preparing them, educating them, training them in the ‘right’ way to live their family way, their long traditioned, heavily patterned, family way, sending them forth into marriage, to procreate a new family, one with the same values, behaviors, traditions, patterns of the family from whence they came. I try to prepare individuals who come to me for premarital counseling for the upcoming mêlée. I ask them, “What do you think your marriage will be like?” I listen to their responses, then I add, “I like to think of marriage as one really long…football game.” Comparing marriage to football is no insult. I come from the South where football is sacred. I would never belittle marriage by saying it is like soccer, bowling, or playing bridge, never. Those images would never work, only football is passionate enough to be compared to marriage. In other sports, players walk onto the field, in football they run onto the field, in high school ripping through some paper, in college (for those who are fortunate enough) they touch the rock and run down the hill onto the field in the middle of the band. In other sports, fans cheer, in football they scream. In other sports, players ‘high five’, in football they chest, smash shoulder pads, and pat your rear. Football is a passionate sport, and marriage is about passion. In football, two teams send players onto the field to determine which athletes will win and which will lose, in marriage two families send their representatives forward to see which family will survive and which family will be lost into oblivion with their traditions, patterns, and values lost and forgotten. Preparing for this struggle for survival, the bride and groom are each set up. Each has been led to believe that their family’s patterns are all ‘normal,’ and anyone who differs is dense, naïve, or stupid because, no matter what the issue, the way their family has always done it is the ‘right’ way. For the premarital bride and groom in their twenties, as soon as they say, “I do,” these ‘right’ ways of doing things are about to collide like two three hundred and fifty pound linemen at the hiking of the ball. From “I do” forward, if not before, every decision, every action, every goal will be like the line of scrimmage. Where will the family patterns collide? In the kitchen. Here the new couple will be faced with the difficult decision of “Where do the cereal bowls go?” Likely, one family’s is high, and the others is low. Where will they go now? In the bathroom. The bathroom is a battleground unmatched in the potential conflicts. Will the toilet paper roll over the top or underneath? Will the acceptable residing position for the lid be up or down? And, of course, what about the toothpaste? Squeeze it from the middle or the end? But the skirmishes don’t stop in the rooms of the house, they are not only locational they are seasonal. The classic battles come home for the holidays. Thanksgiving. Which family will they spend the noon meal with and which family, if close enough, will have to wait until the nighttime meal, or just dessert if at all? Christmas. Whose home will they visit first, if at all? How much money will they spend on gifts for his family? for hers? Then comes for many couples an even bigger challenge – children of their own!

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At the wedding, many couples take two candles and light just one often extinguishing their candle as a sign of devotion. The image is Biblical. The Bible is quoted a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one. What few prepare them for is the upcoming struggle, the conflict over the unanswered question: the two shall become one, but which one? Two families, two patterns, two ways of doing things, which family’s patterns will survive to play another day, in another generation, and which will be lost forever? Let the games begin.

Love: dialogue: Thoreau

Thoreau wrote: We are in great haste to construct a magnetic telegraph from Maine to Texas; but Maine and Texas, it may be, have nothing important to communicate…. As if the main object were to talk fast and not to talk sensibly. We are eager to tunnel under the Atlantic and bring the Old World some weeks nearer to the New; but perchance the first news that will leak through into the broad, flapping American ear will be that the Princess Adelaide has the whooping cough.

One day, about the noon hour, I was walking down Chestnut Street when I noticed a bum walking toward me. He was covered with dirt and soot from head to toe. There was filthy stuff caked on his skin. But the most noticeable thing about him was his beard. It hung down almost to his waist and there was rotted food stuck in it. The man was holding a cup of McDonald’s coffee and the lip of the cup was already smudged from his dirty mouth. As he staggered toward me, he seemed to be staring into his cup of coffee. Then, suddenly, he looked up and he yelled, “Hey, mister! Ya want some of my coffee?” I have to admit that I really didn’t. But I knew that the right thing to do was to accept his generosity, and so I said, “I’ll take a sip.” As I handed the cup back to him I said, “You’re getting pretty generous, aren’t you, giving away your coffee? What’s gotten into you today that’s made you so generous?” The old derelict looked straight into my eyes and said, “Well . . . the coffee was especially delicious today, and I figure if God gives you something good, you ought to share it with people!” I thought to myself, Oh, man. He has really set me up. This is going to cost me five dollars. I asked him, “I suppose there’s something I can do for you in return, isn’t there?” The bum answered, “Yeah! You can give me a hug!” (To tell the truth, I was hoping for the five dollars.)

Pride: don’t take yourself so seriously, lion king of jungle. To a group of students who were arguing, Sophia told the following story, “One day a ferocious lion was stalking through the woods. He came to a giraffe. ‘I'm King of the Jungle!’ the lion screamed at the giraffe. ‘Yipe!’ yelped the giraffe as he ran through the jungle. “The lion walked down to the river where he saw a crocodile floating in the water. ‘I'm King of the Jungle!’ the lion roared. ‘Gulp!,’ said the crocodile as he quickly swam away. “Then the lion came upon a large bull in a field. ‘I'm King of the Jungle!’ he shouted. The bull didn't move. ‘I'm King of the Jungle!’ the lion roared even louder. Soon there was a ferocious battle between the lion and the bull. The lion defeated the bull and had him for lunch. Proud of himself, the lion roared, ‘I'm King of the Jungle!’ over and over again louder than he ever had before. “Nearby, a hunter heard the lion and followed his boasts. He quickly captured the lion and carried him away to the circus. “The moral of the story,” Sophia said, “is that when you are full of bull, you are better off if you just keep your mouth shut.”

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Love Others: Paying attention: Ken Davis Kid’s rule at church

Ken Davis’ kids wouldn’t sit still in church. Someone was always moving around, pushing on a sibling, having to leave to go to the bathroom. So Ken and his wife gave their kids the sit still in church and go to the bathroom before you go in the sanctuary lecture. Go before you enter the sanctuary, if you have to go after you enter, hold it. The Sunday following that lecture, right during the sermon, Ken leaned over to his wife and said, “I’ve got to go to the bathroom.” “You can’t,” she said. “You know the rule. You have to hold it.” “I can’t hold it,” he said. “You have to, just think about something else, you know the rule.” “Dear,” he said, “if I stay here much longer I’m going to break all sorts of rules.” And he go tup and left. He came back in the sanctuary, walked down the aisle, sat next to his wife. He could tell by her body language she was mad. Just to show that there were no hard feelings on his part and that he loved her, he reached out his arm and put it around her, and gave her a little shoulder pat. Pat. Pat. She dug her elbow in his side like nobody’s business. “Ouch,” he said. He thought, ‘I knew she’d be mad, but…’ That’s when he heard the giggles from the row behind him, he looked over and saw that the woman sitting next to him wasn’t his wife.

Love and Forgiveness: Revolution

A moving story of forgiveness is told about Tomás Borge, the Nicaraguan freedom fighter, who was a leader in the struggle against the totalitarian regime that had dominated his country. During the revolution, Borge was captured and put in a dungeon. There he was chained to the wall, and in his helpless condition, was forced to watch as his captors dragged in his wife and gang raped her in front of him. Then they castrated him in an attempt to take away the last vestiges of his manhood. When the revolution succeeded, Tomás Borge was released, and he paraded before the cheering crowds of Nicaragua as one of the nation’s heroes. But as he marched, he noticed in the crowd the face of one of his captors. It was one of the men who had raped his wife. Borge broke ranks from the parade, ran over to where the man was standing, grabbed him by the shoulders, shook him, and yelled, “Do you remember me? Do you remember me? Do you remember me?” The trembling man pretended he had never seen Borge before. But Borge persisted and screamed, “I will never forget your face! I will never forget it!” Then he asked, “Now do you know what this revolution is all about? Now do you understand this revolution?” The trembling and confused man could only answer in his fear, “Yes! Yes!” Borge responded, “No! You don’t understand what this revolution is all about!” Then he embraced the man and shouted, “I forgive you! I forgive you! That’s what this revolution is all about!” (Tony Campolo)

Forgiveness: Yesterday: sins: God forgets but we hold onto.

The story is told of a Catholic bishop who was upset because a woman in his diocese claimed to have daily conversations with Jesus. A little cult had grown up around her, and every day people surrounded her house, got on their knees, prayed, sang hymns, and said the rosary. The bishop thought all of this was getting out of hand, so he went to visit the woman. He told her that while he knew she thought she was having conversations with Jesus, he was pretty much convinced it was all part of her 200 imagination. To prove his point he said, “If Jesus is right here in this room with you now, and you can talk to Him, then ask Him to name the three sins I confessed this morning when I went to the confessional. After having what you believe to be a conversation with Jesus, if you can accurately name those sins, I might believe in what you say.” The woman sat for a long while. Then she smiled and turned to the bishop and said, “I asked Him, but Jesus said, ‘I forgot.’” Tony Campolo

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