Arizona...

Mark 6:6b-13

 

Then he went about among the villages teaching. ⁷ He called the twelve and began to send them out two by two, and gave them authority over the unclean spirits. ⁸ He ordered them to take nothing for their journey except a staff; no bread, no bag, no money in their belts; ⁹ but to wear sandals and not to put on two tunics. ¹⁰ He said to them, “Wherever you enter a house, stay there until you leave the place. ¹¹ If any place will not welcome you and they refuse to hear you, as you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet as a testimony against them.” ¹² So they went out and proclaimed that all should repent. ¹³ They cast out many demons, and anointed with oil many who were sick and cured them.

 

 

This text has always had special meaning for me. Long before completing my college degree, and two graduate degrees from Pittsburgh Theological Seminary, there was Arizona. 

 

Some of you have heard my “Aldersgate” story of how, as a first-year college student, I had a “shake up” from God. As a church-honed, young “Christian” who believed in God, Jesus, etc., I found myself having an unsettling one-on-one with what I assumed was God, one late evening in my college dorm room. And no, I had not been drinking, nor had I had any “whacky tobaccy,” either. The “conversation” was pretty one-sided, with God complimenting me on being a good church “Christian” who prayed a list of “God-bless-its” and the Lord’s Prayer each evening, but who had pretty much taken the planning out of my life into my own hands. I would ask God to “bless” my decisions, but really never asked God’s advice, much. And now, I was being “corrected” for this oversight. “The Talk” really DID shake me up, but it also started my faith life onto a very different—and extremely engaging—path. I ended the evening a bit confused about whether I had been called into the ministry, or something, but knew that if so, the “call” was incomplete. I took a bus home that weekend to confer with my home pastor, the Rev. Hugh Crocker. He was most helpful, after hearing my story, first by affirming the possibility that God “might” call me, as he saw my leadership and involvement in the church youth group as good signs of this. However, he also heard my assessment that if it was a call, it wasn’t clear. I remember him telling me, “Give it time. Don’t rush God! If God IS calling you, God will make it crystal clear—in time.” I found that comforting.

 

Later that year, I met up with a church friend whose faith always seemed more “active” and “everyday” than mine. He was attending a very strict Christian college, and was home on Fall break. When I told him about my “chat” with God, and how this had seriously activated my own faith, which now included voracious Bible study and much more planned and “reactive” prayer on a daily basis, he was beyond intrigued. Over the next few months, every time he was home, we would get together to compare notes. A close friendship developed, and I dare say it was one of “discipleship,” and not just fellowship.

 

Fast-forward to the Spring of 1973. My friend not only came home from college for the Summer, but thanks to a bit of a “backslide” and getting himself In a bit of teenage trouble at a school that didn’t abide such things well, he was told he was suspended for the Fall term. If he cleaned up his act, and wrote an apologetic narrative showing how he was “revived” in his faith and ethics, they may welcome him back for the Spring term of 1974. Well, he DID, in fact, get his act together, and we began spending time with other local teen Christians going to Bible studies and Christian “rock” concerts, and other faith-based youth gatherings. It was during this time that “Arizona” began to happen.

 

Yours Truly felt God leading me to drop out of school for the Fall term and “head West” on a kind of faith/ministry pilgrimage. Since I would just be turning 19 in the Fall, this sounded pretty strange to my parents, but since they were happy that I was spending my time in Christian activities and fellowship, rather than going out on weekend benders like some of my other friends, they kept open minds. I spoke to my discipleship friend about this, and he was soon excited about “the mission,” as well. His very strict parents took a Summer’s worth of persuading to allow him to join me on the quest, but by the end of the Summer, they were on board, too. Our faith-based wanderlust seemed strange, but again, it was a Christ-centered endeavor, and our parents and other close friends had come to see how serious we were. Now all that remained was the where and how.

 

Take a look at the Mark text. Jesus tells the disciples—who were being sent out two-by-two—to trust God to prepare the way. My good friend and I took this text very literally (something that was usually part of our “Jesus People” faith in the early 1970s), so we prayed for a direction and a way to get to it, as neither of us owned a car, and this was a time when most middle-class families owned ONE car, if they were fortunate to have one at all. 

 

For two young “disciples,” the answers came fast and furious, and sure seemed like God-ordained miracles to us. An older friend from my hometown, who had himself entered a close relationship with Jesus Christ while in college, was now teaching in a small town in Arizona. He was home for the summer, and when he heard of our plans, offered us a ride with him back to Arizona at the end of the Summer. My friend suggested we aim to go to Scottsdale, Arizona, at that time a suburb of Phoenix. His family had lived there for a few years when his father was completing a graduate degree at Arizona State, and they had friends who would be willing to host us for a week or so, until we could find our own place to live and acquire jobs to pay the rent. Both of us pretty much sold all of our possessions so we had a cache of cash, and our large hoard of teenage Christian friends gave us a big sendoff and promised to keep us in prayer. We still didn’t know why God was “sending” us, but we now had a vector and a way to get there.

 

To keep this story from getting as “epic” as it could, let me just say that the whole adventure was amazing. We really experienced God working out every detail of “the mission.” We had a glorious trip with our teacher/friend, were lovingly hosted by a family my friend had known from before, and within a week, had settled into a brand new, furnished apartment, and each of us had landed jobs just perfect for our vocational interests. Now, the question of why we were here remained. The answer came on Sunday.

 

We attended a Baptist church that some of my friends past acquaintances attended, and discovered that a delightful, young couple who had served as the volunteer youth leaders for a large and growing group of high-schoolers, had just announced they were moving to California. Upon hearing that my friend and I had been leading Bible studies, teaching Sunday School classes, and had served as Christian camp counselors, they asked if we might take the job. The pastor called us in for a “get to know you,” for who knows, we could have been Manson gang people, or whatever. But after about an hour-long interview, he was convinced we had “the spark,” and might be good for the youth group. 

 

Again, to try to condense the story, we had an unbelievable experience in the Fall of 1973. We bonded with that youth group and led them in all kinds of activities, all while they showed us all over their part of Arizona. We went on retreats with other Christian groups we met, served as prayer partners for a giant concert by one of our favorite, nationally-known Christian rock bands of the day (“Love Song”), and met some of the most interesting people in the world. Our great adventure was “destined” to end by the beginning of December, as our apartment was originally built for the “snowbirds,” and our rent would be increased by a factor of TEN, as of December 1. Besides, my friend had redeemed himself with his college, thanks to our “mission,” which he detailed in a long letter to the administration, and he had been invited back as of the first of the year. We had a celebratory Thanksgiving dinner with all of our Arizona “family,” and with the money we had saved, bought two tickets to fly home in time for Christmas with our families and friends back in Pennsylvania.

 

We really felt like we had lived out the Mark 6 story. Metaphorically, a lot of “demons” were cast out, not only in our faith experiences, but any that would ever cause us to doubt what we could accomplish, with God’s call and God’s provision. Now, I don’t know if God watched over us so well because we were two, young and naïve teens, or whether God really DID send us on “the mission,” but we were both forever changed, and we both eventually entered full time Christian service. We heard from the Arizona group that a number of them, too, had answered God’s call to some form of mission or ministry, which confirmed for us that our “mission” was not just a pipedream. I can honestly say that my life has been very different, thanks to the Arizona adventure. About that trip, I could say something similar to what the writer of the Gospel of John says near the end of his text, that “all the books in the world” couldn’t contain all of the stories about what Jesus did. Similarly, this short message can’t begin to chronicle our myriad stories of Arizona!

 

I chose to share this personal experience story as my exegesis of the Mark 6 passage this week, because I really think it captures the gist of Jesus’ call to a step in faith, with no guarantees. I do NOT advocate that this is for everyone, but when God calls you to step out on faith and to TRUST God to lead and provide, don’t miss the opportunity to put Mark 6 into practice! You will never be the same! Amen!

Song of the Bow...

2 Samuel 1:1, 17-27

¹After the death of Saul, when David had returned from defeating the Amalekites, David remained two days in Ziklag.

¹⁷David intoned this lamentation over Saul and his son Jonathan. ¹⁸(He ordered that The Song of the Bow be taught to the people of Judah; it is written in the Book of Jashar.) He said: ¹⁹Your glory, O Israel, lies slain upon your high places! How the mighty have fallen! ²⁰Tell it not in Gath, proclaim it not in the streets of Ashkelon; or the daughters of the Philistines will rejoice, the daughters of the uncircumcised will exult. ²¹You mountains of Gilboa, let there be no dew or rain upon you, nor bounteous fields! For there the shield of the mighty was defiled, the shield of Saul, anointed with oil no more.²²From the blood of the slain, from the fat of the mighty, the bow of Jonathan did not turn back, nor the sword of Saul return empty. ²³Saul and Jonathan, beloved and lovely! In life and in death they were not divided; they were swifter than eagles, they were stronger than lions. ²⁴O daughters of Israel, weep over Saul, who clothed you with crimson, in luxury, who put ornaments of gold on your apparel. ²⁵How the mighty have fallen in the midst of the battle! Jonathan lies slain upon your high places. ²⁶I am distressed for you, my brother Jonathan; greatly beloved were you to me; your love to me was wonderful, passing the love of women. ²⁷How the mighty have fallen, and the weapons of war perished!

 

“How the mighty have fallen…” How many times have we heard this quoted, usually without realizing from whence it came—the Hebrew Bible. Oh, there may be more of this “Song of the Bow” than we have recorded here in Second Samuel, as the text tells us it was to be included in the Book of Jasher, one of the non-canonical books of Hebrew lore, but what we DO have here is pretty impressive.

 

“How the mighty have fallen” is often used to describe high-flying politicians who fall from grace, either due to scandal, prosecution, or a surprising loss at the ballot box. It may be applied to an egotistical athlete who has the world by the tail, only to have his or her over-inflated self-valuing punctured like a party balloon by a streak of lousy performances or after being cut by a team for ineffectiveness. TV evangelists and other high-profile clergy are not exempt from being included in the “mighty” who have stumbled, usually after some moral failure, being it a tryst or a trust-breaking dip into the till. 

 

But did you know this lamenting line is from David’s “Song of the Bow”? David’s lament is “sung” after Saul and Jonathan are both gone, felled in the sorrow and senselessness of battle. David has lost a king and a BFF (Best Friend Forever, for those of you about as savvy with “texting” shorthand as I). His sadness is documented for the ages, possibly with the hope that others will learn from it, and put “the bow” down before more get hurt. “The bow” here stands in for all weapons of war—past, present, and future—and more probably for war, itself.

 

Jesus would espouse another proverb: “He who lives by the sword will die by the sword” that has a similar warning. Violence rarely solves anything. In fact, in our day of gross polarization—domestic and global—an act of violence carried out to “stop” the actions of a faction will most assuredly just rile that person/group/party up and result in an equal (or not so equal) “reaction,” most likely resulting in more hurt, pain, and even death. Terrorism, for example, is the reaction of “under-armed” people to violent attempts to control by those either IN power, or who have more powerful “bows.” 

 

In the “Song of the Bow,” the author pays tribute to the fallen: In life and in death they were not divided; they were swifter than eagles, they were stronger than lions. In these words designed to bring valor to violence, David is possibly guilty of giving what we would call a “Memorial Day” speech. Each Memorial Day in America, we pay tribute to those who died in service to their country—in battle. The words used are just as lofty as David’s—every one was a hero, “swifter than eagles…stronger than lions.” It seems we have to redeem violent death by pronouncing its victims as larger-than-life, self-sacrificing. Why can’t we just honestly admit most who die in battle were scared, rushed into a battle with a predictably bad outcome, and most always much younger than we imagine. They are no less to be recognized and remembered, even if the truth be told about their unplanned, undesired, yet probably not unanticipated demise when the bullets began to fly. Each year we offer our own “Song of the Bow” for them, don’t we?

 

If we believe God is a God of love, if we believe that “For God so LOVED the world that God gave God’s only son,” then it becomes less and less “Christian” or God-fearing to glorify violence, or believe it is the shortest distance to conflict resolution. Obliterating an enemy just eliminates that particular enemy, and infuriates a new class of enemy who, in good order, will take the place of the one violently taken out. However, putting aside “the bow,” and engaging in dialogue and negotiation has a chance to solve the conflict and create a successful “pattern” to use in approaching future ones which may erupt. Remember that the line from the 23^rd Psalm—“Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies” means that God desires we invite our present enemies TO THE TABLE. We, like other creatures, are most vulnerable when we are eating, and when we share a meal with our enemies, there is an excellent chance to “bury the hatchet,” as some may say. Sounds a lot like putting down the bow, to me.

 

One of my favorite movies is “The Untouchables,” starring Kevin Costner and Sean Connery. Connery plays an Irish Chicago beat cop who joins Elliot Ness’s band of liquor-fighters during Prohibition. He is brutally murdered by the evil Frank Nitty during the movie, as is another member of Ness’s team. As Kostner-as-Ness sits for the last time at his desk, looking over old photos of his decimated team and recalling the “war” over booze, he muses, “So much violence…” Unfortunately, almost every day, we can look over the news from around our own nation, recalling the daily shootings, and are left with the same assessment: “So much violence.” 

 

When are we going to learn the lesson David intended in “The Song of the Bow”? Or we can just continue to “tsk-tsk” over the bloodshed, thinking it inevitable, or worse, that it will somehow lead to an end to conflict.

 

Jesus was right—the one who lives by the sword will die by the sword, and just may take the whole nation with them. 

 

Oh, and remember that Book of Jasher in which David chose to immortalize his “Song of the Bow” lament? Its Hebrew name is best translated “The Book of the Just Man.” In our constant cry for justice, may we heed the warnings of “The Song of the Bow.” 

An Acceptable Time...

Welcome to my updated BLOG I'm calling P.R.O.D. for Post Retirement Observations and Delusions. You never know what you may find here, but I AM hoping to write and post regular sermons, for your edification, and to prompt my continued ability to write them! This sermon is called, "An Acceptable Time."

II Corinthians 6:1-13

As we work together with God, we urge you also not to accept the grace of God in vain. For God says,

"At an acceptable time I have listened to you, and on a day of salvation I have helped you."

See, now is the acceptable time; see, now is the day of salvation! We are putting no obstacle in anyone's way, so that no fault may be found with our ministry, but as servants of God we have commended ourselves in every way: through great endurance, in afflictions, hardships, calamities, beatings, imprisonments, riots, labors, sleepless nights, hunger; by purity, knowledge, patience, kindness, holiness of spirit, genuine love, truthful speech, and the power of God; with the weapons of righteousness for the right hand and for the left; in honor and dishonor, in ill repute and good repute. We are treated as imposters, and yet are true; as unknown, and yet are well known; as dying, and see--we are alive; as punished, and yet not killed; as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, and yet possessing everything.

We have spoken frankly to you Corinthians; our heart is wide open to you. There is no restriction in our affections, but only in yours. In return--I speak as to children--open wide your hearts also.

What was Paul thinking about when he talked about the "acceptable time"? Was he mirroring the divine voice from the Hebrew Bible? Was he being dramatic like we preachers tend to at least try to do to catch our listener's attention? Or was Paul suggesting that we humans have a tendency to wait, wait, wait for some "ideal" moment to enact the important decisions and/or actions in our lives, often missing the opportunity? I think this is where he was coming from, honestly.

As one who is formally entering retirement on July 1, I can say that I'm a bit concerned with what is happening in the stock market right now. This week it has taken a serious tumble over the threat of inflation. Other than a few shares of stock I bought just to support a couple of companies that did the right and just thing at an "acceptable time," I've not had serious money to invest in the market, so why should I care? Well, like so many of you, my pension funds are invested in the market, and while our excellent Wespath pension people have moved most of my funds into a more "safe harbor" of fixed income investments, still, if the market drops precipitously like it has this week, it will affect the major fund that will be annuitized to form part of my income in retirement. Large market drops could make a difference of $100 a month, or so, in income, and as they say, "That ain't chicken feed." So am I retiring at a bad time? Is this not the acceptable time to take the plunge? For me, faith has had to step in and answer, "YES, it's the right time!" Once one gets trapped into that waiting game or "gamble" that there will be a better time, the wagers can be both addictive and endless. Think of some of the ones people have taken on that turned out to be less than affirming:

"We're not having children now, because we don't think we can afford it."

"I'm not going to college right now because I'm burned out on school, and I need some 'down' time."

"We aren't getting married right now because we don't think we know each other enough, so we're waiting for us to be sure."

"I'm not getting the COVID vaccine because it was created too fast, and I'm going to wait until the right time when they can prove to me it's safe."

You can probably think of many of your own, and may even have a few regrettable waits of your own!

For people of faith, such major decisions are best done with much prayer and reflection. However, once a direction is discerned, and a vector is chosen, it's time to step out on faith. My experience is that God is a loving "catcher" as surely as God is a proactive "pusher." But I will never know either if I just put out the anchor and refuse to move.

I have a female clergy colleague who felt that her heart and her Lord willed that she become a mom and raise a couple of children. As her "biological clock" was nearing midnight, and no promising "traditional" relationship was in the offing, she used medical/artificial means to become pregnant. Twice. The result has been two wonderful and precious children who have been loved by a mom with a heart the size of Montana, and by a handful of congregations. She has also had the support of close friends and colleagues. This journey into the "acceptable time" hasn't been without its challenges, about which she is honestly and inspirationally transparent. Life is not easy for a single mom of two growing children, with their needs and activities. And a clergy mom has an hellacious schedule, makes less money than a guy on a bread route, and has only one income to support her family. If that isn't enough, recently she was chastised by a fellow pastor who told her how it was not God's will for single-parent families to exist. Still, if you were to ask her if she made the right decision at the acceptable time, I believe you would hear a resounding "YES!" 

Hall of Fame hockey great Wayne Gretzky is credited with saying, "You miss 100% of the shots you don't take." 

When the Apostle Paul said today was the acceptable time for salvation, he was challenging the people of Corinth to not wait to become a Christ follower. Even after detailing the kinds of persecution and hardships he and other Christ followers have had to endure for the sake of the Good News, he still wouldn't have it any other way, and urges them to "open their hearts." So many people believe that waiting for the "opportune" time to take the leap of faith, whether it is in Jesus, or making an important decision about something life is presenting, is wise. In fact, it could be more like sitting on a ticking time bomb. Paul says today is the day of salvation--don't put God off!

This message is not designed to cause us to act foolishly and call it faith. It is designed to challenge us to take important steps in faith so as to not foolishly miss the direction in which God is trying to lead us.

Open your hearts wide, dear friends. Pray, reflect, and act on faith, for today is the acceptable time for all kinds of salvation, for you, me, and the world. 

In a Holding Pattern...

Greetings, friends. Well, for someone who said he'd be updating his BLOG regularly, I would say that no entries since January 30 isn't very "regular." If this were about bowel movements, this blog would have had surgery by now, Here is my litany of excuses:

1. I'm getting ready to retire.

2. Things at St. Paul's have been hectic, both in working toward our transition in pastoral leadership, and in many of the "machinations" of administering the affairs of the church in the era of COVID-19. Most days, the last thing on my mind is this blog.

3. I'm getting ready to retire.

4. Since I came to St. Paul's with a few goals I had for the church, I'm in a mad scramble to either "finish up" or hand off several that I still believe have merit. A couple of the more substantial ones look like they will happen, thanks to great lay leadership in our congregation, and a sense of vision that is most impressive. 

5. I'm getting ready to retire.

OK, that's enough for now, on the "excuse" front. Most of the questions I get now are about how I "feel" about retiring from full-time, appointive ministry, which is what I'm doing. Please note that no Christian disciple actually "retires" from serving Christ and caring for the people of God! At least until they lay your carcass (or in our case, our ashes) to rest. One of my seminary professors reminded us that our diplomas do not have an expiration date. However, back to the "How do I feel?" question:

Actually, I feel "fine." My spouse and I made an agreement many years ago that if we were both still "here" at the end of 36 years of appointive ministry in my beloved denomination, I would retire. If this came to be, I would be almost 67, and she would be 70, and she wanted to assure that we could spend some quality time visiting our family, traveling (lots of car trips and Miata runs), biking, and other fun stuff, together. We made it, and while age has not left us totally untouched, we are both capable of what I consider remarkable activity, physically, and are generally healthy, so our "Post-Career Exploration" era is about to begin. 

At this writing, I have seven more Sundays left before returning to the pews for the first time in 36 years, for Yours Truly, fully expecting to feel--for at least a few weeks--like a turnip that just fell off the truck. We're going to "split the scene" at St. Paul's for a few months to give Pastor Amy plenty of time to get to know her new charges, but do hope to drag our turnip butts back to the pews at 1965 Ferguson Road, eventually, as 1) We like to be informed by women in leadership; and 2) We have always liked the theology and "style" of St. Paul's. We're expecting great things for St. Paul's under its new leadership, and would like to be a contributing, praying part of it unfolding over the coming years.

Am I going to miss stuff? Of course! As a certified "meeting animal," I may have to form a chapter of "Meetings Anonymous." ("Hi, I'm Jeff, and I haven't attended a meeting now for 7 days!") I love preaching and teaching, have found pastoral counseling very fulfilling, as well as the other manifestations of pastoral caring such as coming alongside a family at the death of a loved one. COVID has already severely limited participation in much of this, though--hospital visits have been all but impossible, except in the most critical cases. I'm kind of a "stewardship geek," so I WILL miss the annual stewardship campaigns, and helping guide my churches through key stewardship issues, but St. Paul's has built a solid stewardship program that has excellent lay leadership, so they won't miss me. 

What won't I miss? Well, the "Zoom tan" I'm getting from staring at a computer screen for hours and hours on many days, for one. I won't miss the stress of trying to make the "right" or "safest" decisions for the church in this COVID crisis, and even though I'm not alone in making those decisions in a large church like St. Paul's, there is always that "The buck stops here" thing that comes with the title Lead Pastor. And as much as I love worship and preaching, I probably won't miss FIVE weekend worship services, at least for awhile. (This past Sunday was one of those "Aren't you glad you're retiring!" reminders, with weekend worship, a long COVID Protocol Team Zoom meeting after the 10:30AM service, 6:00PM parking lot worship, and a long 7:30PM Finance Committee meeting on Zoom.)

How would I grade myself after 36 years of active ministry? Well, I think I've been an excellent disciple. Disciples follow Jesus, and I can honestly say I've followed Jesus as closely as I possibly can. As this has been a journey, I get lost easily while traveling, and Jesus has been my GPS, so I've stayed close to the directions. There certainly have been many moments when he had to shout out, "RECALCULATING!" to let me know my quirky turns would not separate us. ALSO, disciples are "students" or "learners," and I have been an excellent life-long learner. I have always seen my three diplomas as "licenses to learn," and not union cards or membership certificates. And this will NOT desist in the "Post-Career Exploration" era. As to how effective I was in ministry? I don't know. Only the people I have served could grade that one, and I'm happy to leave it with them. As with any "politician"--and yes, pastors ARE politicians, of a sort--there are some constituents who are very happy with what you have accomplished, and others who can't wait for the next election. I fully pledged myself to be an itinerant pastor when I took my vows of ordination, and the average length of my pastorates is exactly six years, and I have never turned down an appointment, so I would call that successful. AND it meant that those who didn't particularly enjoy my "style" didn't have to wait too long before the "next election."

As long as we stay healthy, you will see Dara and me at Annual Conference, because I AM a United Methodist pastor, and Dara IS a dedicated United Methodist lay person. And while we will miss the "small town" and "Norman Rockwell-ish" confines of Grove City College, we have always embraced change, especially when it has a lot of reasons for occurring. I pray every day that the Western Pennsylvania Conference of The United Methodist Church--a Conference I have loved and served--will STAY United Methodist! I have to accept those who want to leave, for they are children of God, too, but I DON'T want them to hijack this Annual Conference. Go in peace, if you must, but go ahead and make your own Conference. Don't take away the one I have served faithfully for 36 years! And I am certainly not alone in this sentiment.

Rick Warren wrote, "It's not about you." And yet this particular blog has been all about me. Thanks for indulging my rumination around the "retirement" gig. Now for something completely different...

You may not know that I am, and always have been, a "space program geek." Since I was a small boy, I have read everything I could get my hands on about the space program, and used to have my bedroom walls plastered with American astronaut photos, most of which were signed (and which would probably be worth a fortune, if I still had them). I stayed up all night, on several occasions, to watch live coverage of moon walks on the later Apollo missions. [Once, while on vacation with my family in Ohio, I persuaded my dad to take a detour to Wapakoneta, the tiny town that was home to Neil Armstrong. And this was just two weeks after the Apollo 11 astronauts had returned to earth and were still in isolation. The sleepy little Ohio town was festooned with "Welcome Home Neil" decorations, preparing for his homecoming a week or so later. We stopped for gas at a corner gas station, and the attendant said that everybody in town knew "Neil" and the Armstrongs, saying they just lived up the next street. "Stop in and say 'Hi' to his parents," he said. So we did.] ALL THIS TO SAY that one of my favorite astronauts died this week--Michael Collins. He of the "I'll keep the light on for ya'" end of the historic Apollo 11 mission, or the "forgotten astronaut," as some called him. Brilliant, courageous, patriotic, frank, and humorous, was General Collins. Here's one of the most famous photos he took on the Apollo 11 mission:

He took this historic photo while the lunar module Eagle was approaching Columbia for docking, after the moon landing. I'm sure he never thought about the caption that would one day accompany the photo when it was published: Taken by astronaut Michael Collins, on one side of the camera, and on the other side, every human being who has ever lived. 

It is sad that we are losing these giants, one after another. Soon, there will be no one left who has journeyed to the Moon. That will be a sad day for space geeks like me. Michael Collins was a gem. Go with God, Sir.

I wish I could give you a prize for reading all the way through this, but alas, there are none. I'll pray God extends your life for the minutes it took to ingest these meanderings. May your Spring day be bright (or well-watered), and may the Spirit quicken the remaining hours of it. Shalom, Dear Ones!

COVID Fatigue...

We're all tired of COVID. At the risk of complaining about our discomfort at a time when many are still endangered by the Coronavirus, and some have succumbed to it, we must acknowledge the fact that we are suffering from "COVID fatigue." And while this isn't as life-threatening as the actual disease can be, it does drag down the morale of an entire nation--or world--and cause us to be far, far less than our best.

It can also tear us apart. We have blamed partisan politics for the mess this most recent election was, but I wonder how much of a role COVID played? Some suggest that we have a new President because of the failure of the old one to conquer COVID, despite launching a valiant effort to create a vaccine against it in record time. One wonders if the weariness of that discovery had some part in the lack of energy expended by the former administration at "administering" the vaccine and enforcing life-saving restrictions on the populace. Maybe it's time we acknowledge that the division, anger, and malaise we are experiencing may have, at least in part, their center in a global pandemic.

I'm not suggesting we forget our differences in political philosophies, nor should we disregard the disruptive--and sometimes destructive--behavior the former ruling party exhibited after the election. But we have had these differences before, and without such vitriol and insurrectionist activity. Could it be that "COVID fatigue" goes way beyond just how we individually feel? Perhaps it has affected us en masse, like some kind of a weird alien force written as a plot theme in a Star Trek episode? The pandemic certainly plays out a science fiction narrative when we admit it has taken us "where no one has gone before" (at least in our generation).

So, what do we do about it, if true? First of all, we should pray for the current administration, and cooperate to get the pandemic under control. We all should drop resistance to the medical cautionary means of safety--social distancing, mask-wearing, hand-washing, and staying home as much as possible. Yes, the "fatigue" has caused many of us to strike out against these precautions, even to do foolish things like visiting bars and restaurants, holding parties, and traveling to places with extremely high COVID numbers just because we "need to get away." But if we are going to beat this thing, we need to get "back on that horse" and do the responsible thing, ASAP. 

Secondly, we should all plan to get the vaccine as soon as it is available. Listen to the science. I have had discussions with persons who say they don't want to get the vaccine because of how fast it was created. Trials were advanced quickly, but the best medical minds have assured us of the safety of it, and given that the trials have occurred over some time, and were there adverse side-effects, they would have emerged by now. The vaccines thus far approved are safe, and effective--again, according to the best medical minds. These are people much, much smarter than any of us, and they have received the vaccine as a sign of their own trust in its efficacy. Widespread vaccination is the only "ultimate" way to get this pandemic under control. Other means which some advocate--such as letting the Coronavirus go unchecked until "herd immunity" is achieved--will result in much suffering, and most likely death for many. Using this method is the height of selfishness, especially if driven by individual fears and "rights."

What is the role of our Christian spirituality in all of this? As mentioned earlier, prayer is an important factor. Beyond this, our Christian teachings call us away from these individual fears and personal "rights" toward doing what is best for the common good. Masks, social-distancing, avoiding unnecessary assembly, and getting vaccines are the "Christian" things to do! Also, we may call upon our spiritual disciplines to give us strength and comfort to get through it, along with our families, and to draw on our "better angels" to think about others and how they may be impacted by our negative actions. Love in action is the best spiritual "vaccine" for what is tearing us apart right now.

[ASIDE: As I was writing this, I happened across the ending of the old film, "Oh God!" with the late superstars, George Burns and John Denver. For those too young to have seen the movie, God appears as an old man in a fishing hat and flannel shirt (Burns) with the message that God cares for all of us, and that we should care for each other. Denver plays "Jerry," who, like a modern prophet, is called by God to deliver this message. We should all hear this message today, in the midst of this pandemic. God does care about all of us, and we should care for each other!  God has this word for Jerry toward the end of the film: "I gave a message of encouragement, you passed it, and now we'll see!"]

One more thing: We should stop trying to crucify one another over the political differences. Right now, the way they are ginned up may be a symptom of COVID-19. That reminds me of another Star Trek episode...maybe later. 

May today be a day of peace for you and your family. And may it be one more day toward an end to this awful pandemic for all of us. Shalom.

That One Solitary Life...

 

Christmas 2020 was one for the books--the history books--pretty much like the rest of the year. Will anyone cry if the door hits 2020 in the backside on its way out? Usually we celebrate the New Year with the ball drop in Time Square. There were enough balls dropped in 2020 that I don't care to see another one, though.

I want to say a good word about Christmas this year, even in its "stunted" form, due to COVID-19. There is a poem attributed to author James Allen Francis that goes like this:

One Solitary Life

He was born in an obscure village, the child of a peasant. He grew up in another village, where he worked in a carpenter shop until he was 30. Then, for three years, he was an itinerant preacher.

He never wrote a book. He never held an office. He never had a family or owned a home. He didn't go to college. He never lived in a big city. He never traveled 200 miles from the place where he was born. He did none of the things that usually accompany greatness. He had no credentials but himself.

He was only 33 when the tide of public opinion turned against him. His friends ran away. One of them denied him. He was turned over to his enemies and went through the mockery of a trial. He was nailed to a cross between two thieves. While he was dying, his executioners gambled for his garments, the only property he had on earth. When he was dead, he was laid in a borrowed grave, through the pity of a friend.

Twenty centuries have come and gone, and today he is the central figure of the human race. I am well within the mark when I say that all the armies that ever marched, all the navies that ever sailed, all the parliaments that ever sat, all the kings that ever reigned--put together--have not affected the life of man on this earth as much as that one, solitary life.

The object of the Christmas celebration was a little like that "Charlie Brown" Christmas Tree pictured above, as this poem reminds us. Even Isaiah 53 doesn't paint a pretty picture of the "suffering servant" we see in Jesus Christ. And yet, here we are--the reconciled, redeemed, empowered People of God--because of this one "solitary" life. I'm guessing that when we first run into Jesus in Glory we may just pass him by, because he won't stand out, and I'm also guessing that his being "seated at the right hand of God" will look a lot more like a child lovingly seated beside a doting parent. The great, great power of heaven is almost always understated. Burning bushes, pillars of clouds, sneaky angels, and a Jesus who heals a blind man by making mud with his spit and slathering it into the man's eye sockets--not exactly Hollywood stuff, at least until Cecil B. DeMille got ahold of some of it. 

Maybe Christmas 2020 was a most fitting one to pay homage to the founder of Christianity? I know that around St. Paul's, as I take stock of the things we did to "rescue" Christmas of the "Grinch" that was COVID-19, I begin to smile! "Light Up Night," a video "Christmas Eve Service" that touched so many hearts and showcased the great gifts of God's people, a parking lot service on Christmas Eve with incredible music, honking horns, and a message of hope--these all certainly paid homage to a God born in a stable. In fact, as I sat in the "preachers' tent" during the parking lot service, with two soggy feet, cold to the bone, icy rain drip, drip, dripping onto the top of my head, and with wind whipping all around, all I could think of what it must have been like on that night so long ago on a Bethlehem hillside when that "one solitary life" entered our world. I could almost hear the voice of Jesus say to me in that blustery tent on December 24 of 2020, "My friend, this is the closest you have ever been to Christmas!" And to top it off, Pastor Karen used wonderful "food pictures" in her sermon that night, making us all so hungry that Dara and I went home and raided the 'fridge for a hearty snack! As we warmed up in the comfort of our own home, we watched the St. Paul's Christmas Eve video, and Ms. Erin's video she made for our church's children, and the "best Christmas ever" got even better! And given it was my last as a pastor before a planned 2021 mid-year retirement, I now have to say it was my most memorable.

Friends, it's time to count our blessings, even as we say a prayer of grace for those battling this awful pandemic, either personally, health-wise, or on the "front lines" of the hospitals and clinics. It's also a time to pray fervently for the world to be vaccinated, ASAP so we can put this Coronavirus to bed for good. And let us pray that the scientific breakthroughs made while "warp speeding" the development of these COVID-19 vaccines will usher in a new era of tools to fight back future viruses before they become an epidemic, or God-forbid a pandemic. 

Let us also pray and work for the coming of God's Beloved Community. Each new crisis has brought us a sample of it--wars that brought people together to win over tyranny, natural disasters that mustered the best in us to give aid, the aftermath of acts of terrorism that gelled a nation (at least for a season), and great human accomplishments like the moon landing or the American Civil Rights Act of 1964 that signaled to us all how we CAN be better, as a people. Please, Dear Lord, help the lessons sink in without another pandemic! With God's help, may 2021 be the year when the Beloved Community begins to sink its roots deep into our hearts and across Planet Earth. And may it be a year of healing for all.

I don't think I've ever looked so forward to a NEW Year...a HAPPY NEW Year. And may it be for all of us, without conditions, other than the human one we all must bear. And for those of us who call upon his name, may Jesus be our "central figure of the human race" once again. Shalom, Yinz! 

New Light

I am not dead. I realize that the last time I updated this blog was back in September. Not a good track record for someone who had the goal of doing weekly updates in 2020, but then a few things have happened this year. A few things...

I did something I've never done before back in October (and no, I didn't eat broccoli on a stick, or anything)--I took a week's vacation. In 36 years of ministry, I have taken time off in the "lazy days" of Summer, at some point, and the past few years, have taken most of the month of August off. This year, though, with the kind permission and coverage of my pastoral colleagues, I took a week in October, and Dara and I stayed in the keeper's house of the Cove Point Light near Lusby, Maryland. Dara likes lighthouses, and I have to admit, they hold a certain fascination for me as well, so when I found one that you could stay at, I got online and booked  it. I'm always trying to find something out of the ordinary that will "wow" Dara, as she "wows" me, just for who she is. A few years ago, I booked us into a few nights at a Frank Lloyd Wright-designed house near Cleveland, over her July 4 birthday. The Cove Point stay was another attempt to thrill her, and it worked pretty well.

Cove Point Light is a working lighthouse on a peninsula overlooking the Chesapeake Bay. It is the oldest lighthouse in Maryland. A local historical preservation non-profit has restored the keeper's house, put in some modern conveniences, and rents it out. We went in October for three reasons: we're not "sun" people, so the moderate weather of October is about perfect for us; it was half the booking price from the Summer prime season (still expensive, but I didn't have to sell a kidney to afford it); and if you want to book it during the Summer season, you probably can't get in until 2023--it's that popular. (Having told some St. Paul's folk about it, a couple have tried to book it even in the OFF season, only to find that it has become VERY popular, and unavailable for at least a couple of years.)

In the off season, they give you a code for the huge electronic gate that secludes the peninsula, and you really have the place to yourself. There is a private "walking beach" (no swimming because of huge riptides), a great screened-in porch, which we made great use of, and a wonderful kitchen for preparing meals--quite handy, given COVID restrictions on what would have otherwise been some enticing local restaurants. (We DID order takeout our last night there from a local "soul food" restaurant run by a couple of African American sisters, and WOW, was that food INCREDIBLE!) Just sitting on that porch (or on the beach) reading and watching Chesapeake Bay boat traffic was wonderfully therapeutic.

This introduction to my central point in this reflection may be the longest one you will ever read. Here's what I really wanted to share, as we are in the throes of Advent...

Above is a photo I took of two lights, both very, very old. The kerosene lantern still works, and provides a subtle light in a dark room. The oldest lighthouse in Maryland still beams its guidance out into the bay, behind it. Both are faithful lights that chase out enough darkness that people like Abraham Lincoln could get his education by a kerosene lantern similar to this one, and small crab boats and giant sea-going tankers could be safely guided into the Chesapeake. They may be old, but light is light! No matter the form, fuel, or luster, it drives out darkness.

In this Advent season, we look forward to the coming of the Light of the World--Jesus, the Christ of God. Jesus is both an old and a NEW light. Ancient, in human time is the story of Christ's birth, along with the Gospel's promise that Christ would be "the light of humanity," and that the darkness he would drive out would NOT overcome this light. The NEW light of Christ is that which shines fresh and new each Advent and Christmas season when we open our hearts to the Good News once again, and allow the timeless message to drive out our personal "darkness." Advent is also a time we pray for and "expect" God's Realm to break into our world, as it fights the darkness that seems always to be trying to "overcome" it. This year,  it is COVID-19 and a divided nation, both of which bring a pall of fear. Is there anything more "dark" than fear, especially when that fear seems to be gaining in intensity, rather than abating? 

Friends, like the light of these ancient lights above, the eternal light of Jesus Christ can still drive out the darkness from the "room" of our personal lives, and that same beacon can provide guidance and direction to our future, guarding us from the threatening rocks and the crashing waves. 

May the newness of Christ's presence keep you safe and well, as we approach the end of a tumultuous year, and may that strong beacon of the "Spirit of Jesus" help you navigate the unsure waters of the coming new year. 

And just in case I "go quiet" again, due to the continuing challenges of being a pastor during a pandemic, we pray you will have a Merry Christmas, even in the shifting tides, a Happy New Year, and find time for a blessed respite from the storms of life. Peace on Earth, goodwill toward Yinz!