Dreamer to Geriatric

 

Dreamer to Geriatric

 

Genesis 37:1-4, 12-28

Joseph sold by his brothers 

 

37:1 Jacob settled in the land where his father had lived as an alien, the land of Canaan.

 

37:2 These are the descendants of Jacob. Joseph, being seventeen years old, was shepherding the flock with his brothers; he was a helper to the sons of Bilhah and Zilpah, his father's wives, and Joseph brought a bad report of them to their father.

 

37:3 Now Israel loved Joseph more than any other of his children because he was the son of his old age, and he made him an ornamented robe.

 

37:4 But when his brothers saw that their father loved him more than all his brothers, they hated him and could not speak peaceably to him.

 

37:12 Now his brothers went to pasture their father's flock near Shechem.

 

37:13 And Israel said to Joseph, "Are not your brothers pasturing the flock at Shechem? Come, I will send you to them." He answered, "Here I am."

 

37:14 So he said to him, "Go now, see if it is well with your brothers and with the flock, and bring word back to me. "So he sent him from the valley of Hebron. He came to Shechem, 

 

37:15 and a man found him wandering in the fields; the man asked him, "What are you seeking?"

 

37:16 "I am seeking my brothers," he said; "tell me, please, where they are pasturing the flock."

 

37:17 The man said, "They have gone away, for I heard them say, 'Let us go to Dothan.'" So Joseph went after his brothers and found them at Dothan.

 

37:18 They saw him from a distance, and before he came near to them they conspired to kill him.

 

37:19 They said to one another, "Here comes this dreamer.

 

37:20 Come now, let us kill him and throw him into one of the pits; then we shall say that a wild animal has devoured him, and we shall see what will become of his dreams."

 

37:21 But when Reuben heard it, he delivered him out of their hands, saying, "Let us not take his life."

 

37:22 Reuben said to them, "Shed no blood; throw him into this pit here in the wilderness, but lay no hand on him" --that he might rescue him out of their hand and restore him to his father.

 

37:23 So when Joseph came to his brothers, they stripped him of his robe, the ornamented robe that he wore,

 

37:24 and they took him and threw him into a pit. The pit was empty; there was no water in it.

 

37:25 Then they sat down to eat, and looking up they saw a caravan of Ishmaelites coming from Gilead, with their camels carrying gum, balm, and resin, on their way to carry it down to Egypt.

 

37:26 Then Judah said to his brothers, "What profit is it if we kill our brother and conceal his blood?

 

37:27 Come, let us sell him to the Ishmaelites and not lay our hands on him, for he is our brother, our own flesh." And his brothers agreed.

 

37:28 When some Midianite traders passed by, they drew Joseph up, lifting him out of the pit, and sold him to the Ishmaelites for twenty pieces of silver. And they took Joseph to Egypt.

 

 

It’s a timeless story, so much so, in fact, that Andrew Lloyd Webber further immortalized it in his musical, “Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.” But as I’m about to turn 72 this month, what first caught my attention was the line that “Israel [Jacob] loved Joseph more…because he was the child of his old age.” While Dara and I did not start our family until later than many of our peers did, and while we weren’t “old” when our children were born, comparatively, here we are, in our 70s and with two very young grandchildren. The “young grandchildren” part is wonderful, but the fact that we ARE “old,” by biblical standards (three-score and ten), and living therefore on “borrowed” time, gets my attention anytime it comes up. Here, it comes up again.

 

When we told our friends and peers that we had put ourselves on the waiting list for Wesbury, the United Methodist-related retirement community in Meadville, PA, they balked. “You guys are too YOUNG to be going to an ‘old folks’ place!” they protested. At least one of us looks years younger than her age, and the other of us is capable of very juvenile behavior, from time to time, but we are NOT “young” by anyone’s definition. And yes, I know, “You are only as old as you feel” is a thing, but there are certain facts of human longevity that are hard to ignore. We both seem to have pretty good genes going for us, but one of us DOES take a handful of daily medications for cholesterol, blood pressure, and acid reflux, and he knows who HE is. Fact is, we are aging, and making plans for our “elder” years has always made sense, especially given that as a pastor, I have seen what happens when folks DON’T make such arrangements, and wind up in a place or a situation that they would never have desired being. Besides, our two beloved, adult children are in Alaska and Hawaii, so they are out of the picture, in terms of care-giving issues. SO, we made plans years ago that we would take care of ourselves, and promising our kids that their inheritance would amount to nothing more than the junk we must leave behind, as the cash would pay our way into senior care. Both of us were quite familiar with Wesbury, having grown up in Northwestern PA and in the Methodist/United Methodist Church. We had even visited a number of parishioners who had entered the various independent living options here, and while we looked at other “age in place” communities, they were either too remote, or well out of our more limited price range. Enough of the backstory…

 

We now reside in Thoburn Village, the preeminent independent living neighborhood of Wesbury. We have a home that is a bit larger (and more expensive) than we had originally opted for, but with a little financial “squeezing,” we can manage. It is great to have all of our maintenance and landscaping cared for, and to have a staff and neighbors who watch out for us (and each other). Our place has those “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up” emergency cords at strategic places, and it is all on one level. The doors are wide enough for various mobility aides, including those cool Power Chairs that I can imagine racing around on (see aforementioned juvenile behavior comment). Now comes the rub: I really DON’T feel old, but this place forces me to confront that I AM old, as evidenced by the hairy eye I got from staff when they saw us unloading a step ladder from the moving truck. Ladders are like contraband here. Their maintenance people regularly remind us that we should call THEM for the kinds of things that I have always taken care of myself. Why? Because at my age, I’ve probably surrendered at least 20 percent of my balance. Bummer. I LIKE ladders.

 

I was doing stir fry the other night, and as a neophyte chef, am finding the transition from gas to electric range somewhat challenging. A waft more smoke, and off went the fire alarms. Now, at our townhouse, my searing and stir frying often set off our interconnected smoke alarms, and we’d just wave a magazine under the nearest sensor to stop the beeping. The warning was just to us, it didn’t connect to any emergency services. Guess what? At Wesbury, there aren’t “beeps,” but those annoying, extremely loud klaxons that sound when your stir frying sets off the detectors, and you know what else? Within five minutes, you have a man in full fire-fighting regalia standing in your kitchen with an AX! I invited him for dinner, but he had to get back to the station. Did this make me feel old? Mostly just stupid, but it’s certainly in the “aging” equation. I told our neighbors that being thorough people, we just “had to test all the systems.” They worked, by the way.

 

Last Friday night, we went to a “Hotdog and S’Mores” event at the Wesbury dog park, just down the street from Villa Sterling. As I sat there among a large crowd of independent livers, I must say it appeared to be a parallel universe. In walkers, wheel chairs, and with canes, they came, and white hair was certainly the dominant style being shown. I thought to myself, “This isn’t MY crowd, certainly?” But it was, and it is. A two-person “band” presented music, and we all knew the words to each Beatles and other popular tunes they played. All of us, and I do mean US. “This IS my crowd,” I realized, as we sang a great unison versions of “Hey Jude” and “Sweet Caroline.” I confess that I still feel “out of place,” here, and it DOES often feel like I’m in a parallel universe. It is SO easy to default to the long accepted role as “these peoples’ pastor” as an escape from the reality that I am both a peer and a “subject” of this extra-caring community. The one thing that takes me out of this mental malaise is the caliber of the people we have met here. Yes, we’re all here as part of a plan for our aging years, but NO, none of us has “given in” to being “old.” This is an educated, highly energetic, and articulate crowd—something with which I always wanted to be affiliated. We are amongst investment bankers, MANY teachers and school administrators, college professors, and medical professionals. I have enjoyed making connections and good conversation with these folk, and this gives me great hope for the future.

 

Which brings me back to “Jacob and sons,” as Lloyd-Webber wrote the tune. Jacob has been a kind of role model for me: sometimes a clever conniver, which all local pastors must be, from time to time, to either get a program passed and funded by Church Council or the fence painted at the parsonage. Jacob wrestled with God, and basically prevailed, because God cheated. What serious Christian HASN’T wrestled with God, or at least God’s Spirit, at some point? God has a nasty tendency to “call” us to do things outside our comfort zone, and yet here we are, doing it, and being blessed by it, most of the time. Jacob fell in love with a woman whose presence and beauty dominated his consciousness. So, too, have I, and what an incredible privilege it has been to share my life with her, each and every day. But above all, Jacob was a “dreamer,” who had a continuing vision for his life, his family, and certainly for what would become God’s people, Israel. The “dreamer” part he passed on to the “child of his old age,” Joseph. I’m not going to rehearse the whole story here, as most of you know it well, but the symbol of Jacob’s “dreamer” blessing he bestowed on Joseph got the poor boy in a lot of sibling issues. Of course, God the cheating wrestler, finagled a way to use what they “intended for evil” as a way to put Joseph in the catbird seat that would later save his family AND pave the way for Israel’s emergence as a great people. That symbol was the famous “technicolor dream coat,” and what a symbol it is! Like the colorful rainbow God used to promise the earth that God would never destroy the earth by flood again, according to the Genesis tale, so the colorful coat is put over the shoulders of Joseph, who then shoulders a tremendous responsibility in Egypt, as second banana to the Pharoah. Do you see all of the “poetic” tie-ins here? The coat is a symbol not just of dreaming, but of vision. The vision Joseph becomes the point person for not only rescues his family, but helps launch Israel. And his “calling” even paves the way for God’s later emancipation of Israel’s captivity FROM Egypt. When Paul wrote, “God causes all things to work together for good for those who love God and who are called according to God’s purpose,” I’m guessing he had the Joseph story in mind. Jacob and Joseph—like father, like son, truly.

 

Oh that we all might keep dreaming and vision as the “children of our old age,” instead of just back pain and sinus trouble! I believe God wants to call us to so much more, as we see time and time again in these Bible stories. Each of us must deal with the realities we have been “dealt,” I realize, but we don’t have to give in to the stereotypes of age and the erosion of our physical selves, whether it be minor or acute. The soul and its ponderings on vision—maintaining our “dream” life, for example—can be just as vital now as it ever was. It is NOT limited by chronology. To use an old Greek dichotomy, we can live in Kairos (special, or “dreaming” time), instead of succumbing to mere Chronos (“ticking” time). So, friends, what will it be? 

 

Here at Wesbury, I’m going to look for the other Jacobs with whom to have coffee and conversation with. I am already part of a Monday morning “men’s” coffee hour, wherein we are urged to avoid religion and politics as topics. (I have a problem with this, as these are ultimately the two things that have the power to bring about change and move us toward compassion and justice, but oh well…) These prohibitions nudge us to talk about other things, and that is good, I suppose. The challenge will be to help steer the group toward “visionary” things, and away from just complaining that maintenance is slow to get the garbage disposal fixed. I hope I can be a part of the kinds of conversation a “dreamer” might have. Good conversation, especially of the variety that may move us toward some benevolent and purposeful action, should be one of the “children” of our old age. So, Dear Ones, may we of greater years be “fruitful and multiply!” Amen!

My Anger vs. God's

My Anger vs. God’s

 

Psalm 145:8-9, 14-21

You open wide your hand 

 

145:8 The LORD is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.

 

145:9 The LORD is good to all, and his compassion is over all that he has made.

 

145:14 The LORD upholds all who are falling, and raises up all who are bowed down.

 

145:15 The eyes of all look to you, and you give them their food in due season.

 

145:16 You open your hand, satisfying the desire of every living thing.

 

145:17 The LORD is just in all God’s ways, and kind in all God’s doings.

 

145:18 The LORD is near to all who call on God, to all who call on God in truth.

 

145:19 The LORD fulfills the desire of all who fear the divine; God also hears their cry, and saves them.

 

145:20 The LORD watches over all who love God, but all the wicked God will destroy.

 

145:21 My mouth will speak the praise of the LORD, and all flesh will bless God’s holy name forever and ever.

 

There are things that just come with getting old, I guess. Nighttime trips to the bathroom (usually more than one), waking really EARLY, even before the chickens (if I had chickens), and having a shorter fuse—at least internally—than I ever did. I can’t say that I’ve ever been a hothead; many friends would say I was more patient and tolerant than most. I have a “justice hair-trigger” when I see things that just aren’t right, though, and possibly this has been sensitized even more by my advancing years, but I do find myself getting upset at more other stuff that has less to do with justice and more to do with just-me. 

 

I get more quickly ticked at people standing in the middle of the supermarket aisle with their carts, shelf-shopping (more like gazing aimlessly?), and blocking the entire aisle for others’ safe passage. I find myself going off easily over the “idiot” drivers who believe their motorist’s rights trump all others’, especially when their indignation is manifest in aggressive, unsafe practices behind the wheel. I’m not as tolerant of screaming or shrieking children as I once was. As a pastor, because I was always thrilled to have young families in my congregations, I could preach, pray, or even lead moments of meditative “silence” in worship over even the loudest crying child, with absolutely no malice. People used to comment about this “virtue” of mine, and I used to tell them that in the Bible, the cry of a child was either a sign of great need, or a portent of unwavering hope for the future. The voice of a child in the church, whether talking loudly, shrieking, or even just asking really tough questions that sound more like riddles than inquiry, should be reasons for rejoicing in every congregation, for in so many, there are no such voices present.

 

Back to my anger…I’m not as patient with people who don’t seem to know when to put a period at the end of a very long sentence, while telling their story. As one who likes to edit, I have this secret desire to cut, paste, and delete while listening to someone tell a needlessly long story, and I’m talking about one being told verbally. My wife tells me I have begun to develop the nasty habit of showing my frustration in these settings by just suddenly jumping into the narrative in an effort to “edit” it. I think she’s right, and I’m working on that. It is most helpful that we have moved into a retirement community where all the stories are “new” to me, and I yearn to hear each of my new friends’ sharing about their life and personal history. Confession: hearing someone’s story first has made it easier to be patient with and more tolerant of them when it later emerges that their politics or theology is rather perpendicular to my own. Personal histories explain a lot of what we carry around in these regards. 

 

There is good news here, though. I am much more patient with slow-moving old people, now that I must admit I am one—not slow moving yet, but yes, OLD, at least by biblical standards. We are told our days shall be “three score and ten,” meaning I am both into the overtime period, AND starting to expect my “senior discounts,” however they may manifest themselves. Interestingly, I try so hard to not “act old,” while my lovely wife is quite content to just accept her age, and in doing so, she is probably one of the “youngest” persons I know. When you are in your 70s and yet don’t “feel” old, it is so easy to become a “poser.” It’s nice to live with someone who has no need to be one. I’m learning…

 

I could go on with the list of things that raise my ire, but the purpose of this message is to elucidate a bit on the character of the Almighty, at least according to the first verse of this weekend’s lection reading from Psalm 145: The LORD is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. 

 

Believe me, for my comfort level, God may be too “slow to anger” when it comes to the rampant and seemingly multiplying injustices unfolding around us. “If I were God,” as they say, I’d be doing a bit more smiting and going a bit easier on the mercy. I confess that upon reading of yet another new injustice—such as deporting helpless children BORN here under the 14^th Amendment or torpedoing the rights of persons of color—I wonder where God is? Does the fact that God is “slow to anger” an indication that in God’s “time,” righting such wrongs may be more than a generational thing? That in God’s restorative justice, humans must be both allowed to commit such horrible acts in order to learn—possibly over several generations—the consequences of their actions, in order to finally come to the their collective senses and RIGHT the wrongs? Do statements such as “God’s ways are not our ways” or “to God a day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years, a day” cover this? What is God waiting for? Doesn’t a “loving” God realize that people are being trampled here? GOD’S people? In the Old Testament, it seemed that when God’s people Israel misbehaved, the retribution was swift. What about Israel now, as they murder women and children in Gaza and seemingly seek to obliterate all “enemies”? Oh, here’s another characteristic of we “elderly”: we are p-r-e-t-t-y impatient!

 

I have come to accept that God’s being “slow to anger” is not a sign that God doesn’t care, or is siding with the oppressor. However, God DOES expect human beings to actually mature and learn as a people to fix many of their own problems, especially the ones THEY cause directly, such as injustice. As a teen, my parents rarely intervened when they saw me “cruisin’ for a bruisin’, as they say. It was never a sign that they didn’t care, but rather one that they were willing to forego their parental comfort in order that I may learn a “hard” lesson that had a better chance of “sticking.” When a particular lesson ended, I never, ever wondered, “Where were my parents? Don’t they CARE about me?” I understood their methodology, and as a parent myself, I also empathize with the pain they must have felt when standing back while I made bad, or at least questionable, choices. Why, then, do I have a hard time understanding God’s “slow anger”? Is this not the same thing, here?

 

That “If I were God” thing is a real problem for us. As Feuerbach once said, most of us write ourselves on the sky and call it “God.” But Yahweh is a different breed of cat. “Abounding in steadfast love” begins to give us a clue as to the nature of the God of the Bible. This is a God who cares so deeply—like a truly loving parent—that God must “step back” to allow the human race to learn, experience, and grow, even when it comes with very hard lessons. As I’ve said in many past messages, God is NOT the “genie in the lamp” who gives us what we want at our beck and call. This may be the God we WANT, but it is not who God is. God’s slowness to anger has kept humanity in the game. Remember that time when God told Moses on the mountain that God was so upset with humans that God might just wipe us out and start over with Moses and a remnant? Moses “argued” with God over this, pleading for a bit of that grace and mercy on behalf of God’s erring people, and “won” the argument…or did he? Did God set this up so that Moses might develop a loving advocacy for God’s people whom he was leading, despite their shortcomings? Maybe.

 

There is no doubt that this lectionary passage from Psalm 145 is “making nice” with God, and our understanding of God’s love, mercy, and grace. The psalmist must have been having a good day. I get tripped up on the last verse of the passage, though. What does it mean to “bless God’s holy name forever and ever”? Praise is a thing that has never been easy for me to wrap my brain around. My view of the nature of God is such that I don’t believe God “demands” or even “needs” praise, so why is it such a thing, especially in the Psalms? A good counselor will point out that “praising” another is a way of moderating ones OWN ego and affirming the positive actions or attitudes of the other, so why wouldn’t we want to praise God, accordingly. In this case (with apologies to Rick Warren), it IS about us. A good parent will tell you that they wanted most that their children would grow into a healthy, productive, and happy life, not that they would receive “praise” for their good parenting. However, I can say it was always really nice when our children DID show their appreciation for something we did for them, and our children were gracious to do so regularly, so on that level, I get it. Still, as a parent, I felt more “rewarded” for my efforts when my kids just “did well” and lived out most of our family values. In my view of the nature of God, this is the way God is, too. 

 

Perhaps the psalmist is just giving voice to the myriad reasons humans have to be grateful to the Deity? How ever one chooses to “praise” God, this author says there are ample reasons to do so. I, for one, will be working on my “fast to anger” problem, as if the Psalm 145 author is correct, it is directly opposed to the way God is. If I am to be more “Christ-like,” then slow anger, abiding patience, and merciful, “abounding” love are on the agenda. I have a whole new “congregation” and “laboratory” (the Wesbury Retirement Community) in which to explore these character goals, which is a good thing. You don’t want to mess with old people. Amen?

Holding Out for Rachel

 

Holding Out for Rachel

 

Genesis 29:15-28

Leah and Rachel, Jacob's wives 

 

29:15 Then Laban said to Jacob, "Because you are my kinsman, should you therefore serve me for nothing? Tell me, what shall your wages be?"

 

29:16 Now Laban had two daughters; the name of the elder was Leah, and the name of the younger was Rachel.

 

29:17 Leah's eyes were weak, but Rachel was graceful and beautiful.

 

29:18 Jacob loved Rachel, so he said, "I will serve you seven years for your younger daughter Rachel."

 

29:19 Laban said, "It is better that I give her to you than that I should give her to any other man; stay with me."

 

29:20 So Jacob served seven years for Rachel, and they seemed to him but a few days because of his love for her.

 

29:21Then Jacob said to Laban, "Give me my wife that I may go in to her, for my time is completed."

 

29:22 So Laban gathered together all the people of the place and made a feast.

 

29:23 But in the evening he took his daughter Leah and brought her to Jacob, and he went in to her.

 

29:24 (Laban gave his maid Zilpah to his daughter Leah to be her maid.)

 

29:25 When morning came, it was Leah! And Jacob said to Laban, "What is this you have done to me? Did I not serve with you for Rachel? Why then have you deceived me?"

 

29:26 Laban said, "This is not done in our country--giving the younger before the firstborn.

 

29:27 Complete the week of this one, and we will give you the other also in return for serving me another seven years."

 

29:28 Jacob did so and completed her week; then Laban gave him his daughter Rachel as a wife.

 

I don’t know if these Bible stories are historically accurate, or not, but in the words of United Methodist storyteller Michael Williams, “It ought to be!” Imagine this circumstance: a young man falls in love with a beautiful, young woman, and wants to marry her. He bargains with her old man—Laban, himself a crafty old coot—for her, offering to work for him for seven years for it, and the rest of her. Jacob—the known conniver and cheat—thinks it’s a pretty sweet deal, giving up seven years of hard labor as payment for bypassing the older daughter, Leah, which in the affairs of the day, should have first dibs. After the labor agreement has been discharged, Laban, the crafty coot, throws a wedding celebration during which I’m sure he doses Jacob with some strong drink. Jacob waits in the marriage tent for his prize, and SURprise, the next morning, he finds out his wedding night yielded him Leah, the older sister. Laban, the crafty coot, negotiates another seven years of work out of Jacob, the conniver. Once this new agreement is set, and Jake spends his “proper” first week entertaining Leah, he is then awarded Rachel, as well. Doing your father-in-law’s bidding for over 14 years seems like a steep price to pay for a first love, but for Jacob, love puts him “in for a penny, in for a pound” on the subject. Was his love really all that special? The story wants us to believe it was. Personally? I get it.

 

My spouse, Dara, is my Rachel. While I’m sure those of you who read these sermons get tired of me going on about how special my life partner is, but here we go again. You see, I dated quite a bit in high school, wanting to get to know as many young ladies as I could, and I DON’T mean in a “biblical” way! I have always enjoyed the company of the “opposite sex,” a term we should now banish, that we understand that gender/sexual orientation is on a spectrum, of sorts. Dating a number of girls was a way to both “explore” the differing personalities and interests of my female peers, as well as hear their life stories and ambitions, all of which I found most interesting. While I never had designs on becoming a clergyperson at that time at all, I should have known that something was “up,” given my interest in listening to each young woman, and in many cases, offering comfort and affirmation, where needed. And believe me, some of those girls needed it, given my finding that a number of them were brought up in far less than the best circumstances, and in their dating experiences, had discovered that many a young man had a different kind of “exploration” in mind. My “getting to know you” dating style soon meant that I could ask out almost any young woman I wanted to, since I got the reputation for being a good listener, rather than a self-centered braggart, AND I wasn’t focused entirely on winding up in the back seat of the car. Then there was Dara.

 

As I have told the story many times, we grew up in the same church. Being that she is a few years older than I, my appreciation of her in our youth group was “from afar,” as they say. (Junior high boys don’t generally attract much interest from beautiful, bright cheerleaders of the senior high variety.) I admired her for so many reasons. She WAS beautiful, which certainly catches the eye of a young man, but so much more than that, she was obviously quite intelligent, an informed conversationalist, and a person with an active, articulate faith walk with God. That was clear when our two “halves” of the youth group would share a common scripture-based devotional time to start our meetings. Dara could comment brilliantly about almost any chosen scripture, and it was clear that she really knew what she was talking about from experience. After “observing” her for those youth years, I decided her unique “archetype” of woman was what I was willing to hold out for. Her type would be my “Rachel,” but I never expected in a million years that it would actually BE Dara. (It’s a story you’ve heard before in other sermons, namely that we didn’t get together until years later, as adults, after dating mutual friends, and so forth. Next May, we will celebrate 50 years of marriage.)

 

When I say that Dara is my Rachel, what I mean is that holding out for the highest values in a “date” or the one you “get serious” about is a very important thing. AND, being that “high value” person yourself, to give of your very best to the person you will spend your life with, is just as important. Remember that ol’ Jesus chestnut, “Do unto others what you would have them do unto you”? That applies here. If you hold out for the very best possible “candidate” who checks all the boxes for you, then you darn well better be working to check all of her/his boxes, too! Marriages fail for a variety of reasons, some of them “commissions,” others “omissions,” but in many cases, just simply NO “mission,” meaning one party lost the energy to make every effort to be the very best partner—and persons—they could be, to honor and cherish their spouse. I wish I could say that I always excel in this with my Rachel, but obviously I don’t. However, I never give up trying, and I will never “settle” for less than the perfection I believe my partner deserves.

 

In the Bible story of Jacob, Leah, and Rachel, Jacob never loses his starry-eyed love of Rachel, even when it turns out that she is barren, and won’t bear his important offspring. (After all, the old boy didn’t get the title of “Father of Israel” for nothing.”) However, the “consolation prize”—Leah—is quite fertile, and able to bear many children who would someday lead tribes of God’s emerging nation. Rachel, thanks to God’s intervention (talk about fertility treatments!) led to Rachel bearing Joseph and Benjamin to Jacob. Leah’s children would be the tribal leaders, down the road, but it would be Joseph who would save the whole shootin’ match, after his brothers sold him into slavery in Egypt. In this story, I found part of my own personal story, and you might, too, if you think about it for a moment. I could have “settled down” with any of a variety of nice women I dated over the years. Several of them could have been serious candidates to “checking all the boxes” for me, had I grown impatient, or jumped the gun out of lust for either you-know-what, or security. But having observed an incredibly “complete” woman like Dara, I had a lot of boxes I wanted checked, AND had set for myself a number of “growth goals,” so I could be a good husband, a spiritual asset, and an honest, ethical, and supportive partner to a woman who would meet “my” standards. Oh, God had something to say about this, as well. As a person of faith, I prayed for my own Rachel to come along, and with God’s help, held out for that to happen. As I said earlier, I never expected that one to actually BE Dara, but when that came to pass, I had no doubt that God was in it. I’m sure Jacob felt the same way.

 

Jacob’s “wife sandwich” of Leah and Rachel brought him great honor, many children, and fulfilling life. If we can look to this as a metaphor, for a moment, what we see is that his ultimate happiness and fulfilment came from having both a “Lover” (Rachel) and a “fighter” (Leah). One stoked the romantic, intimate fires of a deep love, while the other was productive, nurturing, and dependable. So it is with the best partners for a modern marriage, although wrapped into a single person. If you marry only for love, you might find the actual “living” to be short-changed, especially if the maintenance of the romance costs more than you have in the proverbial bank. If you “settle” for one who just checks “enough” boxes, you might find yourself bored or unfulfilled WAY sooner than you might imagine. Holding out for the highest ideal is worth the wait, and the TRUST it takes in God to make the match. I know this sounds like idealism, but we’re talking life partners and spouses, here, and right now, just over 50 percent of all marriages in this nation end in divorce, so something needs to get our attention.

 

That business of needing both the “lover” and the “fighter” in a good marriage reminds me of yet another Star Trek episode from the earliest days of the series. Some kind of transporter malfunction splits Captain Kirk into his two “personality” selves. The mild-mannered, compliant, and indecisive side of Kirk’s personality emerges from the transporter, and takes up life with the crew like nothing happened. Unbeknownst to the crew, though, a few minutes after the “milquetoast” Kirk materializes and leaves the room, the “fighter” slde of his personality arrives. Both demonstrate their characteristics to the crew: the quiet, peaceful, yet indecisive Kirk makes no waves in his role as Captain of the Enterprise, but is a lousy captain, especially in the face of a sudden crisis; the “fighter” side of Kirk is a problem, too, for he goes about grabbing women, fighting with crew members, and generally being a spastic pain for all involved. Eventually, they discover the “split” and figure out a way to re-combine them in the transporter. It seems that, just like Jacob’s mild-mannered, productive Leah and his steamy first-love Rachel are both necessary to build a passionate, purposeful nation, so it is that we all do best when we find “that one” that is both lover and fighter, and who checks as many of our desired “boxes” as possible. 

 

Please hear that what I’m advocating for is holding out for the best, and not settling always for what is right before us. It is true that sometimes God DOES put what is best for us right before our eyes, and it is also true that even the best of marriages “goes South” for a variety of reasons that may have little to do with the choice we (or they) made. What I am saying is that life and our most important relationship are both too short to not give it our best, and in the beginning at least, “hold out for Rachel.” One may also apply this metaphor to other important choices or decisions we must make, as well. The more important the issue, the better it is to pray, trust God, and “hold out” for the best wisdom in making the decision, which will most decidedly lead to the best outcome. 

 

So many times when we approach these rich Bible stories, we get the most out of them when we put ourselves into the picture, “translate” the story to the circumstances in which we find ourselves, and with the help of the Holy Spirit, manufacture a lesson out of them that advances the cause of Christ AND brings us a richer fulfilment in our personal journey. Don’t waste your time by merely accepting them as historical accounts without personally “experiencing” them! The Bible is one of the richest guides one will ever find, if interpreted in this way. If you limit yourself to defending such great stories as just “historical fact” of what brought about the nation of Israel, you are in danger of settling for less than God’s best, regarding the text. Hold out for your Rachel, Beloved. Amen!

Right Life

 

Right Life

 

Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43

The parable of the weeds 

 

13:24 He put before them another parable: "The kingdom of heaven may be compared to someone who sowed good seed in his field,

 

13:25 but while everybody was asleep an enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat and then went away.

 

13:26 So when the plants came up and bore grain, then the weeds appeared as well.

 

13:27 And the slaves of the householder came and said to him, 'Master, did you not sow good seed in your field? Where, then, did these weeds come from?'

 

13:28 He answered, 'An enemy has done this.' The slaves said to him, 'Then do you want us to go and gather them?'

 

13:29 But he replied, 'No, for in gathering the weeds you would uproot the wheat along with them.

 

13:30 Let both of them grow together until the harvest, and at harvest time I will tell the reapers, Collect the weeds first and bind them in bundles to be burned, but gather the wheat into my barn.'"

 

13:36 Then he left the crowds and went into the house. And his disciples approached him, saying, "Explain to us the parable of the weeds of the field."

 

13:37 He answered, "The one who sows the good seed is the Son of Man;

 

13:38 the field is the world, and the good seed are the children of the kingdom; the weeds are the children of the evil one,

 

13:39 and the enemy who sowed them is the devil; the harvest is the end of the age, and the reapers are angels.

 

13:40 Just as the weeds are collected and burned up with fire, so will it be at the end of the age.

 

13:41 The Son of Man will send his angels, and they will collect out of his kingdom all causes of sin and all evildoers,

 

13:42 and they will throw them into the furnace of fire, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.

 

13:43 Then the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father. Let anyone with ears listen!

 

“Shining righteousness” is a wonderful summary of what this message is about. Don’t we all think we are living a “right life,” particularly those of us who profess to be people of faith? Yes, I realize that we of the Christian sect believe that “Christ died for the unrighteous,” forgiving all of our “not right life” in an act of self-sacrificing love, and that we are “going ON to perfection,” nowhere near it yet. Still, we aim to live “rightly” more than “wrongly.” Some of us, even in our attempts at right living, feel we must stand up for stuff like social justice, and dismantle stuff like racism, which will anger some folk, and cause disagreement with others, but stand we must, which may make us seem less than “nice” at times. 

 

Living “rightly” means different things to different people. For the Muslim, it may mean being attentive to the required daily prayers, while to Buddhists, it could mean treating others kindly while remaining centered in meditation and a respect for all life. For Jews and Christians, living according to some understanding of “God’s law” is seen as right life, or “righteousness.” Obviously, the picture that begins to emerge is one of differing definitions and interpretations of the things that measure “right life” for each of us, and these differences also emerge on the receiving end, among those who witness our efforts—our neighbors, friends, and even adversaries. As alluded to in the earlier statements about social justice, conflict can arise when one person’s attempts at right living counter with the perception of another who is either just an observer OR the object of some action. This stuff is never easy, even when we think it is, or HOPE it is. The late Rodney King’s “Why can’t we all just get along?” statement is still a coveted plea, and a rallying cry for most of us, but we do remember that he was badly beaten by “peace officers” while saying it. It is NOT easy to live with others when our definitions of “right living” bump into each other. And they will. 

 

I guess that part of right living is getting over our preoccupation with expectations, especially of others. I personally struggle with this, friends. Big Time. When I’m in a long line of cars waiting at the light that lets us exit our plan here in Adams Township, my thoughts are on getting as many of us through the light as we can, and being ready to carefully accelerate to keep the line moving, as I believe is my part in the traffic drama. However, it is clear that not everybody has this as an aim, and even that some seem oblivious to the 25 cars in line behind them. I have a tendency to be judgmental here, expecting that the offending party is “scrolling on their phone,” or even being intentional about making the rest of us wait until they are good and ready to lead the pack. In reality, I know that neither of these things may be true. It could be a person who is dealing with depression, or who has just had some bad news. Maybe they are on their way to work at a job they need but really don’t like, and procrastination is not a selfish thing, but self-preserving, in their mind. We just don’t know, do we? One of my goals is to be less judgmental in these situations. Actually, it is to simply be less judgmental, period. It’s a hard one, friends, believe me! 

 

I believe it was Ben Franklin who picked a different vice to conquer each day, but while doing so, sort of let the others slip a bit. Isn’t it true that when we’ve “conquered” one bad trait, we sort of champion that—even crusade for others to join us—and without meaning to, become less tolerant of someone else’s yet-to-be-conquered bad trait? My Adams Ridge traffic light test of morality and ethics notwithstanding, I DO hope I am trying to be a bit more “well rounded” in my quest for “right living.” (I’d tell you more about some of my “bad traits,” but I know the battery on my laptop would not hold out, nor would your indulgence in reading the list. Just ask Dara, if you want to know them. She has almost fifty years of observations and irritations.)

 

As I have chosen to focus my thoughts in this week’s sermon on the final verse of this pericope, don’t think I’ve forgotten the rest of the parable. My heinously judgmental thoughts of the Adams Ridge traffic light sluggards would be one illustration of blaming the resulting “weeds” on someone. Blaming, while possibly a “normal” human trait, is rarely productive. When something bad happens, nailing some “culprit” rarely fixes the problem; in fact, it rarely does, and may even cause an unnecessary expenditure of energy in precisely the wrong direction. While indicting someone or something for the crisis may “feel good,” it is not a Godly thing, in light of our Judeo-Christian understanding of forgiveness and grace. The parable goes through some of these “human” machinations before finally coming to a workable solution, and as is often the case, one that is somewhat “natural” in origin—sort of like God the Creator planned it to pan out, in the end. The question I see here is: Is “right living” for me more about solving problems and making life better for all (not just ME)? Or is it a well-placed indictment so the one who germinated the “weeds” can get their comeuppance? Rodney King’s “Why can’t we all just get along?” casts a vision of the former. Unfortunately, he was almost beaten to death for the latter.

 

As is often the case in the Gospel of Matthew, the disciples don’t understand the illustrative story Jesus has just told, so they ask him to “interpret.” Then Jesus does what no self-respecting rabbi would EVER do, namely explain it. Parabolic stories tell a “truth,” and must be pondered by the listener. The rabbi expects the audience to do so until the “light goes on” and they deduce the truth, even if it takes a while. It is highly unlikely that Jesus would give an “interpretation” of any of his parables. Besides, in Matthew’s frequent tellings of them, the interpretation he puts in the mouth of Jesus is generally wrong, and we doubt that would happen. In this case, what Matthew’s interpretation gets at least partly right is that GOD is the one who “sows the good seed.” I hope we can agree that this is true, but in doing so, we must also see that we can’t take much credit for what “grows” rightly. Of course, in typical, reckless Matthean fashion, he goes postal about “the devil” and likes the kind of judgment on “evildoers” that is complete with “weeping and gnashing of teeth.” Again, neither is productive regarding the issue at hand, but “The devil made me do it,” or “TAKE THAT, you lousy sinner!” can make a body feel “good” in a vindictive sort of way.

 

Back to our final sentence: Then the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father. Let anyone with ears listen! Right living is a “shining” witness to our life with God. If we are “going on to perfection” in a fairly balanced, holistic way, people notice, especially in a world that can be frustrating, when the first person at the green light needs to hear horns honk to drive on. While I purpose to be a caring, considerate person, I have known so many others who do it so VERY well, and it puts me to shame. Maybe they have the “gift” of hospitality? Or perhaps they had the proverbial “good upbringing”? What if they are just taking seriously that old chestnut, “Love thy neighbor as thyself”? Or “Do unto others as you would have the do unto you.” Jesus kept it simple; we would do well to do likewise.

 

I once had a parishioner who, when I thanked him for doing a kindness to my benefit, would often answer, “It’s easy to be nice to nice people.” While he certainly meant it as a complement, it made me realize that it IS easy to be nice to nice people, but Jesus asks so much more of us than that. Being “nice” or helpful, or standing up for the rights of people who may NOT be so “nice” (possibly because of their troubles and/or being DENIED forms of justice that the rest of us don’t have to “fight” for?) people, is about acknowledging that we are ALL children of the living God. One of the earlier tenets of United Methodism was: “God has endowed each and every person with a sense of dignity and moral responsibility.” We are not to judge what is in someone’s heart, nor are we to “plant weed seeds” (be the devil?) by treating them less than others. Our own “right living” may well be measured by how we treat the “least of these,” as Jesus himself has said. My justice “spider sense” vibrates when I think about the current state of how we are treating immigrants and refugees in the United States right now. Even if you believe in tighter controls on immigration, it is not “righteous” to view all immigrants as “criminal” or as “undesirables,” for we do not know their story, nor are many Americans willing to listen, right now. How sad.

 

Ronald Reagan described a “proper” America as a “shining city on a hill,” which is actually a biblical metaphor, one in which Jesus reminded us to not “light our lamps” and hide them under a basket. This passage of scripture tells us that true “kingdom living”—right living—is when our actions DO speak louder than our words, and the result is a shining witness, not a smirch on humanity’s history. May each of our lives BECOME part of that “shining city,” or at least a bright light shining out the window of our existence. OK, the light is green, lets MOVE! Amen.

Lamp

Lamp

 

Psalm 119:105-112

Your word is a lamp to my feet 

 

119:105 Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.

 

119:106 I have sworn an oath and confirmed it, to observe your righteous ordinances.

 

119:107 I am severely afflicted; give me life, O LORD, according to your word.

 

119:108 Accept my offerings of praise, O LORD, and teach me your ordinances.

 

119:109 I hold my life in my hand continually, but I do not forget your law.

 

119:110 The wicked have laid a snare for me, but I do not stray from your precepts.

 

119:111 Your decrees are my heritage forever; they are the joy of my heart.

 

119:112 I incline my heart to perform your statutes forever, to the end.

 

It’s now hard to read this snippet of Psalm 119 without hearing Amy Grant’s “Thy Word” running through your head. I say “snippet” because Psalm 119 is an epic psalm, set up as an acrostic, in Hebrew, with each stanza beginning with a letter of the Hebrew alphabet. There are rare (none other?) biblical texts that have three-digit verse numberings in their citations! Amy Grant hijacked Psalm 119:105 to stick in our heads. 

 

Light is not really an issue in our day. Everything lights up or glows. The days of Abraham Lincoln studying law by the flickering flame of a single candlestick are long gone, aren’t they? Now, phones give us a handy “torch.” LED light fixtures and bulbs are EVERYWHERE. Our cars glow on the inside and out, our homes are ablaze with light. Modern kitchen and bathroom designs turn both into veritable “stadiums” of light. Both of my cars—a 2017 MINI Cooper convertible and a 2025 Chevrolet Equinox EV—have variable “mood lighting” that can be set to indicate a number of functions and situations, just to entertain or “soothe” those inside the car. There was a time when the absence of light proved to be a restriction on more than law lessons. Surgeries were delayed until daylight, travel likewise, and crime loved the darkness. Streetlights tamed the night, and those “warm” sodium vapor ones were said by psychologists to “soothe” the savage breast, compared with the “cold” light of the mercury ones. (Isn’t it interesting how we ascribe emotions to the quality of light?) Why, when we travel, I pack a tiny LED flashlight, to guide me to the bathroom in the middle of the night, so I don’t wake up Dara. When I forget to pack it, I find the furniture with my little toe. There is screaming involved, as there was back in the day before artificial lighting. It has been said that Thomas Edison did as much to change the entire nature of society with his electric light as anyone else in all of history. Even sports have been revolutionized by artificial lighting. I personally attended the first night game in the history of the World Series in the Fall of 1971, when the Pittsburgh Pirates defeated the Baltimore Orioles at Three Rivers Stadium. Even Wrigley Field, baseball’s historic park in Chicago—where it was said that artificially lighting would never happen—has seen baseball played under the lights.

 

The “magic” of artificial lighting wasn’t a “thing” in Jesus’ day. Is it any wonder that he talked much of the “light of the world”? Light drives out darkness, and as Martin Luther King, Jr. said, it is the only thing that can overcome hate, when it is in the form of Divine love. While Jesus spoke of “light” metaphorically, he did understand that one must either “make hay” while the actual sun shined, or keep your lamps trimmed to see and work by night. Interestingly, in our day, in a time when all kinds of “darkness” threaten to tear our human communities apart at the seams, we have an abundance of light—even a surplus of light. Here are a few interesting facts about the “light of the world” in our time:

 

·      Cheap LED lighting is also much cheaper in terms of its lower cost to operate. LED lights of all shapes, sizes, and colors are everywhere. Even in most developing nations, cheap LED lighting has proliferated. A battery-operated LED light can last for months, and the “bulbs” themselves last for many years. This has opened up the night for all kinds of activity, and has made formerly dark places safer.

 

·      The “explosion” of artificial light may be behind the earlier onset of puberty among the human species. Some studies have suggested that the near constant light we now live in stimulates the pineal gland in the brain via the optic nerve, hastening puberty.

 

·      Not all of this prolific, artificial light is beneficial. There is much science warning us that all of those little “power lights” on our devices around the room in which we sleep may be robbing us of quality rest. Everything glows, and we have become rather oblivious to it, but our bodies and their circadian cycles are not.

 

·      The night sky is SO polluted with streetlights, LED signs, and shopping center and stadium lighting, that we can hardly see the stars, anymore. Those of us who are amateur astronomers hate this. It’s called “light pollution,” and there is even a tool called the “Bortle Scale” to measure it. Cranberry Township is rated as a Bortle 7, meaning we have a very bright suburban/city sky. (By comparison, a rural area quite away from the city or suburbia may come in at a Bortle 2 or 3.)

 

I share all of this information about “light” because of the Bible’s emphasis on it as being something “good,” and for the most part, it is. Where humanity be without our natural sources of light, and where would contemporary culture, business, and general human activity be without artificial lighting? However, the Bible—and Jesus, during his preaching/teaching ministry—often talked about “light” or the “lamp” as not just illumination, but divine guidance. God doesn’t just “light our paths” to keep us from stumbling, but to lead us in a better direction that we may choose ourselves. God’s “word” as a lamp makes a lot of sense when we read that Jesus announces himself as the “light of the world,” and then later tells us that believers/disciples are the “light of the world.” In both cases, Jesus makes it clear that the world needs a different kind of light—a light that leads AND illuminates. God’s commands, likewise, are meant to “light our paths” in life, keeping our behavior focused on being more Christlike, or as I mentioned last week, “going on to perfection,” in the words of Mr. Wesley. God’s word, God’s law, God’s love, and God’s grace are all powerful sources of “illumination,” not just for the soul, but for every moment of life here on planet earth. 

 

None of us can say that we have lived “exclusively” in the beam of God’s light, but as diligent and committed Christian believers, we have certainly tried. In my ministry, I did all I could to call upon God, listen for the promptings of the Holy Spirit, and look to my Christian siblings to not “miss” the light God was shining in my direction. Overall, I am thankful that few of the paths my life and ministry took over those years were in the wrong direction, or sent me down any “dark alleys.” Not that I didn’t “hear” God’s “still, small voice,” from time to time, or didn’t discern the leading of the Spirit of God, for I have a few good testimonies of when I did, but I can say that much if not most of God’s direction and “light” came through all of the people nearest and dearest to me: my incredible partner, Dara; my “wise before their time” children; a few good and trusted friends; and so often the discerning and dedicated laity and church leaders I was privileged to serve in all six of my churches. (Please note that I’m not discounting the essential “light” God sent me through the wonderful District Superintendents who supervised my ministry, and the Bishops who discerned my gifts and appointed me places to best use them, but they are expected to be such vessels of guidance, and they did so, admirably.)

 

Now, in retirement, a new path has been discerned, and Dara and I are embarking on it next week. We are becoming residents of Thoburn Village, the independent living “neighborhood” of the Wesbury United Methodist Retirement Community in Meadville, PA. With our adult children not living near us (currently in Alaska and Hawaii!), and busy with their own lives, we put ourselves on the waiting list for a Villa at Wesbury over three years ago, and “the call” came just a few weeks ago that shined God’s latest light on our journey. Dara likes to joke that, for over 36 years, we “waited for a call” to come from the Cabinet to let us know that we would be moving, and here we are, at ages 71 and 75, getting a call to tell us it’s time to move again!) So, next week it is off to “Villa Sterling”!) Just as each new, illuminated pathway has been a blessing beyond measure—even when they were also challenging—so we expect this new chapter will be one, as well. We look forward to meeting new friends, finding new places to serve, grow, contribute, and enjoy life’s abundance, all courtesy of the One who has “kept the light on” for us (with apologies to Motel 6 and Tom Bodett). 

 

Friends, I can’t emphasize enough how important this principle of seeking and following God’s “light” is in choosing your paths and traveling your personal journey. If you were taught that “rugged individualism” of the American culture, and that YOU had to be the one to make those important decisions, may you find a “better way.” While it is our constitutional right as American citizens to make our own choices, for those of us who want to be sincere Christ-followers, we are called to yield this right, at least in part, to our “Higher Power,” or in this case, “Better Lamp,” and not just to keep ourselves from stumbling in the dark. God’s direction for our lives necessarily interfaces with other believers, and a wider faith community, both to fulfil the ministry that God is building, AND to activate and use the spiritual gifts of all of God’s people to assure that “none should perish” but find the life that truly IS life. And that life is one with Jesus Christ, the Light of the World. May OUR lives reflect this loving, forgiving, saving, and inclusive beam that chases out the darkness and “cleanses us from all unrighteousness,” to the glory of God. Keep your lamps trimmed, Dear Ones! Amen.

 

 

Numbed

Numbed

 

Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30

The yoke of discipleship 

 

11:16 "But to what will I compare this generation? It is like children sitting in the marketplaces and calling to one another,

 

11:17 'We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we wailed, and you did not mourn.'

 

11:18 "For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, 'He has a demon';

 

11:19 the Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, 'Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!' Yet wisdom is vindicated by her deeds."

 

11:25 At that time Jesus said, "I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and have revealed them to infants;

 

11:26 yes, Father, for such was your gracious will.

 

11:27 All things have been handed over to me by my Father, and no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him.

 

11:28 "Come to me, all you who are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.

 

11:29 Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.

 

11:30 For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light."

 

 

'We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we wailed, and you did not mourn,' is one of my favorite passages of the whole Bible. I’m guessing it was part of a kiddie game, or something, in Jesus’ day? Doesn’t matter. The audience is clearly NUMB to both warnings and invitations. If this was written for any generation, it would certainly apply to the current one.

 

My daughter (and now granddaughter) plays the flute. It’s a beautiful instrument that doesn’t honk or squeak, when a tone is successfully produced by the flutist. When our daughter, Shelah, first decided to try the flute, as a student at Ben Fairless Elementary School in Braddock, PA (yes, THAT Braddock, that gave rise to PA Senator John Fetterman), we signed her up for the school instrument program, and retrieved a shiny, Yamaha flute for her to learn on. Now, I did the same thing many moons ago, but with a trumpet, and I’m guessing I drove my parents crazy during the early, “honking” phase. I did eventually learn to play it pretty well, rising to first chair in our high school band. Brass instruments honk, when first played, even as clarinets and saxophones squeak, either of which grinds at the nerves of unsuspecting ears like a diamond-based, industrial abrasive can grind down steel like it is made of cheddar cheese. The flute, though, either makes NO noise, when first played, or tends to offer an early “free sample” of the inherent “tone” the flutist might carry through her or his flute “career.” I’ll never forget that first day, when after her very first lesson, our little Shelah took out her flute to play it at home. She was in living room of our Turtle Creek parsonage, and my wife and I were in the kitchen. She had figured out how to make her flute play “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,” and that is what she played, while we eavesdropped from the adjoining room. What I heard loudly and clearly was a deep, rich, “woody” tone—the kind any flutist would covet. I said to Dara, “Oh, my! She’s got a GREAT tone!” (a brilliant observation, I know, but then I’m certainly no Leonard Bernstein). I walked into the living room where our precious little girl was proudly holding her flute. I asked her a couple of introductory questions about what she had “learned” during her first school flute lesson that day—especially how she had “figured out” Twinkle, Twinkle--and then I said something like this: “Shelah, we were listening as you played a few minutes ago. Even as a beginner, you have such BEAUTIFUL tone on this instrument. We would like to encourage you to work at it, stay with it, and perfect your ability with it, for you may have a wonderful gift.” She responded, “I WILL, Daddy!” 

 

And she did. Not only did she go on, years later, to have a flute performance minor in college (she majored in literature, which was always her first love), but she has played in churches, in the Tallahassee Winds (when she and her husband lived there), and has been a part of the incredible Christmas orchestra at Christ Church, United Methodist, in Louisville, KY. Her tone has only improved, and we have been oh so proud of her, in this. We both love to hear her play.

 

So, when I read, “We played the flute for you and you did not dance…” it invokes much sadness in me. I just can’t imagine anyone—anyone—listening to flute music and not wanting to dance, or to at least revel in the music and keep time with a tapping foot. In this expression coined by Jesus, the flute represents all that is worth celebrating and resonating rejoicingly in life. Only the most numb of folk would miss the joyous prompt. Still, all around us, I see and hear people who only know how to bitch and not praise, deprecate rather than appreciate, and reject rather than embrace. Through the best of the human expression, God is trying tirelessly to play “flute music” for us, in an effort to get us to dance a little. WAY too many sit silently, numbly, as the music plays, acting like they are tone deaf, while there are others who complain about it being “too loud.” It is my conviction that God wants less “praise” aimed at Godself, and more praise-worthy response to the music all around us. Me thinks the animal kingdom does a better job of hearing and jiving to the music than the “smartest” of us human creatures. How very sad. We even have a terribly negative phrase applied to calling someone to accountability: “Face the music.” Music should never be used as a vehicle for judgment or retribution. Music is a unique gift offered by our Creator that lights up a totally different part of the brain. Don’t denigrate it—CELEBRATE it! Jesus is imploring us to do so.

 

Then, the second half of the lyric says, “we wailed, and you did not mourn.” Life also brings things our way that should be heeded and mourned. The obvious ones are the deaths of loved ones or friends, or the loss of necessary, sustaining employment. Note something important here: we all fail, from time to time. These “failures” are NOT what Jesus is talking about here. Failure is a passage to improvement and “new beginnings,” as countless “heroes” have demonstrated. When we fail at something, and then regroup and begin again, we grow, and when the resulting success happens, we should hear the flute playing, and do a little dance. No, wailing and mourning are about the things in life that happen that we will never see again. People, for sure, but also things like the “eras” of our lives. Even when a divorce is a necessary step in a couples’ life, the proper response should be mourning. To not mourn is to be numb to the moments of shared richness that pretty much every relationship offers (exempting ones that may have degenerated into abuse). Even in marriages that go sadly sour, there were ecstatic, uplifting, and most likely exultant moments that should never be forgotten, and that will never come again. These should be mourned. 

 

Another of my “never forgets” happened when we took our “little girl” off to college. For two solid weeks after we got her situated with a remarkable roommate, I would go up to her room, sit on her now vacant bed, and just simply cry. I can never forget these important moments of mourning. I was obviously thrilled that she was now an honors student at a fine school, and situated with a wonderful roommate who would become a life-long friend (and Maid of Honor at her wedding, years later). But an “era” had passed that would never come again. No more story time before an evening prayer at bedside, no more precious little voice saying, “Goodnight, Daddy,” and no more calls from school asking me to bring her the Social Studies book she left behind while hastily exiting our home that morning. Believe me, neither was it easy to duplicate this experience when we dropped our son off at college, but at least he had chosen the SAME school as did our daughter, so parents’ weekends could be a bit of a “twofer,” but there really is nothing like that first one who “leaves the nest.” The important mourning moments of life do not have to be over “bad” experiences like a death or an unexpected diagnosis. We are numb if we have been rendered incapable of experiencing the mourning moments of stuff that has permanently changed, or an era that has passed. When we have grown numb to these moments, how will we ever find the compassion necessary to mourn alongside the larger human community—or church—when some calamity strikes?

 

The “preacher” in Ecclesiastes had it right: 

 

There is a time for everything,
    and a season for every activity under the heavens:

²     a time to be born and a time to die,
    a time to plant and a time to uproot,
³     a time to kill and a time to heal,
    a time to tear down and a time to build,
⁴     a time to weep and a time to laugh,
    a time to mourn and a time to dance,
⁵     a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
    a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
⁶     a time to search and a time to give up,
    a time to keep and a time to throw away,
⁷     a time to tear and a time to mend,
    a time to be silent and a time to speak,
⁸     a time to love and a time to hate,
    a time for war and a time for peace.

 

When we become numb to these “seasons” of life, we render ourselves incapable of things like empathy, compassion, or even companionship. The numbness is truly numbing! AND it is debilitating. Even the animals get this, and we are so the lesser when we become so desensitized. 

 

Jesus ends this discourse with the promise: “My yoke is easy and my burden is light.” He’s saying that God doesn’t expect much of us, really, but to “act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” And to dance and mourn like we are human beings, when the music plays, or the wailing begins. Being numb to these prompts is truly a “deadening” thing. Don’t die, LIVE, Beloved! Drink in the best of what life offers, even when it is a “passage” that may bring you to tears, for a time. Some like to say “Life is too short to…” (you complete the phrase). Jesus is telling us that life is just too precious to be numb to all of the experiences it offers as its greatest gift to our humanity. Don’t you think there is a REASON that God sent God’s “only begotten Son” into the world as a human being? First, to experience that which is uniquely human, and THEN to light our pathways so we wouldn’t miss the dancing and the mourning along our way. Pay attention, Beloved. The best is ALWAYS yet to come! Amen.