Judging Character

I've been thinking about how we judge others' real characters.  I don't think we often do a very good job with this.  But the truth is that there really are ways to get at the core of who a person is.  There are clear indications of the innate nature of another person if we pay attention.  Here are some of the things I look for when I am looking for a partner or when I'm trying to really understand another person.  I'd love to hear your opinions and what you look for as well.

1. How does the person treat animals?  And maybe even more, how do animals react to and around the person?  This won't necessarily be universal.  Some animals just don't like people, for example. But when an animal who is usually cautious approaches, snuggles, purrs around a specific person and when I see that person react with joy, calm and steady presence, with sweetness and a total lack of fear or anger, I take that as a very good sign.

2.  How does he/she behave in their car?  Does he or she act with a sense of entitlement to the road and to the speed they choose and the path they are going without regard for others?  Or instead, are they able to recognize that other human beings, all with places to go and things on their hearts and minds, are actually driving the other cars that surround them?  Are they forgiving?  Patient? Compassionate in their cars?  Do they make room with their cars when folk are trying to change lanes or merge?  Are they kind in their cars?  To me this shows an awareness of others, even people we don't know and may never meet face to face.  It shows a choice to be compassionate for others, even when others make mistakes, recognizing that we all make mistakes.  Letting people in to one's lane shows a choice to be kind even when it will not be rewarded with recognition or a return in kindness.

3.  How do people treat other people who might be seen as their "inferiors"?  This begins with how they treat service people, waiters/waitresses, janitors.  But it extends to people who are often less privileged in one way or another: people of color, women, immigrants, refugees, people of different faith traditions. Are they able to see all of these people as real human beings, again with many things on their hearts and minds who are just trying to live, love and make their lives the best they can for themselves and their families?  Can they put aside differences and value each individual for who they are? It also extends to how they treat people who may not have the same social rank or personal social skills as others.  Are they kind and compassionate towards them as well, even when the connections might not "better" them socially? 

4.  How do they react to meanness from others?  Do they react with rage?  Or worse, with cruelty, vengeance, condemnation or even violence?  Are they able to remember that everyone has a bad day once in a while and that it is helpful to treat everyone with kindness, especially those who are acting badly. We can turn around another person's day by acting with compassion when they are misbehaving. We can often stop rageful behavior by reacting with quiet kindness in the face of another person's anger.  We can make a difference by being nice.  Meanness usually leads to more meanness.  Anger usually leads to more anger.  Hate and revenge lead to more and more hate and revenge.  It is an amazing person who can turn that around; a person I want to be like and a person I would choose any day for a friend.

5.  How do they express anger?  Do they talk directly about what has upset them or do they act in passive aggressive ways?  Do they speak about their own feelings and experiences or do they attack, verbally or in other ways, those with whom they are upset?  Do they try to understand the other person's experience or stick stubbornly to their own version of each story?  Can they listen, hear, be compassionate even when they are hurt or angry?
6.  How do they treat their relatives?  Are they respectful?  Are they kind?  Even when the relative is annoying or out of touch or less than brilliant, do they still work hard to be patient, understanding and caring?  It is hard to be around family sometimes.  But do they work to be gracious and polite even in those challenging situations?  Even around people who will love them no matter what?
7.  How do they treat those who work for them?  Are they grateful?  Do they express that gratitude?  Do they help to make the days of those who work for them positive and do they help them to feel appreciated and that their work is valuable?
8.  How do they treat those who are "invisible" - the homeless, the street folk, the mentally ill?  Do they acknowledge them, treat them with kindness, look them in the eye.  Do they treat them with respect?
9.  How do they talk about other people?  Are they demeaning in their language? Constantly finding fault with others?  Ridiculing others?  Humiliating others?  Or are they kind and respectful towards people even when they are not there, not present, not able to hear their words?
10.  Are they able to see their own part in a problem or conflict?  Or do they simply blame others for what has happened to them?  In the same way, can they be grateful for the help that others have given that has led them to be where they are, or do they claim sole credit for their achievements as much as blaming others for their failures?
11.  Once they have owned their part, are they able to apologize with sincerity and work hard to make amends for any way they may have contributed to another person's suffering?
12.  Are they able to learn new things, to grow, to move forward in their understanding and world views?  Or are they stubbornly stuck in a particular world view and unwilling to learn?
13.  Do they keep their promises?  And do they tell the truth?  Faithful, loyal, steadfast in their friendships and their commitments to others and to themselves?
14.  Do they work to make the world a better place?  Do they work to make themselves more loving? And to share that love with a world that sometimes seems to be lacking in love?
15.  Do they have a sense of humor?  Can they laugh at themselves and the world?  Can they be silly?
16.  Are they inclusive?  Ever widening circles of friendship, groups, acquaintanceships, etc.?  Or do they set up walls and barriers and keep some "out" and some "in".  Are they gate keepers who decide who is acceptable and who is not?
17.  Are they gentle in word and in deed, offering help to those who need it?
18.  Do they jump up when they see a need and address it?  Or do they wait for others to take care of what needs to be done?
19.  Are they generous with their time and talents?
20.  Do they smile at strangers?
  Two more since I wrote the above:  One from another person's suggestion and one of my own.
21.  How do they behave when they think others don't see them?  Are they still kind and generous even when their efforts will go completely unrecognized and unrewarded?  And on the other side, when someone thinks they can get away with selfishness or meanness without it being caught or noticed, do they take advantage of that?  Do they do "anonymous" behaviors that are unkind, destructive, damaging or just plain selfish?
22.  Do they stand up for those being treated unfairly?  Are they willing to speak up when they see unkindness?  Are they willing to step in when someone is being mistreated?  Do they risk harm to themselves in order to protect someone else who is being attacked in some way?

I may add to this list.  Again, I would love to hear what you see as the behavior that identifies another person's real character.  I will be the first to admit that I am not perfect in any of these areas.  But these are the things I look for and value in others.  And they are behavior goals I set for myself as well.

Sundays' Sermon - Laughter as Resurrection

Genesis 17:15-19, 18:9-15, 21:1-7.  Luke 24:13-35
HUMOR SUNDAY

A mom wakes her son up on a Sunday morning telling him he has to get ready for church.  He fights her saying he just plain doesn't want to go.  She responds, "I'm sorry son by you have to go to church.  For one thing I'm your mom and I'm telling you you must go.  Second, you are forty years old and ought to know better.  And third, you are the pastor.  So get your butt out of bed and get moving!" 

A pastor runs into a kid who is looking to trade his lawn mower for a bicycle.  The pastor agrees to do this, but then is pulling and pulling on the mower cord and it isn't starting.  He turns to the boy and asks him how he is supposed to get the mower to start.  The boy responds, "oh, you just have to cuss at it and it will start right up."  The pastor is highly affronted and says, "I don't cuss!  I don't even know how to cuss!"  The boy responds, "You pull long enough on that cord, and I'm certain you will learn." 

A pastor declares that he is going to preach the following week on the sin of lying.  He says that in preparation for that sermon, he would like everyone to read Mark 17.  The following week he begins by asking the congregation, "how many of you remembered your homework and read Mark 17 in preparation for today?"  Everyone in the church raises their hands, to which the pastor responds, "Mark only has 16 chapters.  We will now proceed to my sermon on lying."

A man joins a monastery and is told he must remain in silence for six years.  He does so and at the end of the six years the head priest tells him he can say two words.  The monk says, “too cold”.  "Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that!" declares the head priest.  We will surely take care of that for you!  And he gives the man additional blankets and then tells him he must go away into silence for another six years.  After another six years passes, the monk is called back again and told he can say two more words.  “Food bad” the monk declares.  Again, the head priest is very apologetic, promises to do something about it and does so, sending the monk away for another 6 years of silence.  This time when the monk appears and is told he can say two more words, he declares, “I quit”.  "Well," says the head priest, "that's a good thing!  You've done nothing but complain the whole time you've been here!"

A pastor comes across a group of kids surrounding a puppy and asks them what they are doing.  "Oh, pastor," says one of the kids, "We are seeing which one of us can tell the biggest lie!  Whichever one of us tells the biggest lie will get to keep this puppy that we found!"  The pastor is highly offended.  "That is outrageous!  You should not be practicing lying!  Why, when I was your age, I never would have told a lie!"  The kids become quiet for a few minutes until finally the one kid says, "Well, pastor.  You just won yourself the puppy!"


Christine Longhurst wrote, “Laughter Sunday (also known as Holy Humour Sunday, Hilarity Sunday, God’s Laughter Sunday, Bright Sunday or Holy Fools Sunday) has its roots in a number of different Christian traditions.  Churches in 15th century Bavaria used to celebrate the Sunday after Easter as Risus Paschalis (‘God’s Joke,’ or ‘the Easter laugh’). Priests would deliberately include amusing stories and jokes in their sermons in an attempt to make the faithful laugh. After the service, people would gather together to play practical jokes on one another and tell funny stories. It was their way of celebrating the resurrection of Christ – the supreme joke God played on Satan by raising Jesus from the dead.  However, the observance of Risus Paschalis was officially outlawed by Pope Clement X in the 17th century. Perhaps people were having too much fun.  In 1988, the Fellowship of Merry Christians began encouraging churches to resurrect some of these Christian traditions—to celebrate the grace and mercy of God through the gift of laughter and joy.  G.K. Chesterton once wrote: “Angels can fly because they take themselves lightly. Never forget that the devil fell by force of gravity. He who has the faith has the fun.”
While the psalms we read encourage joy, and laughter is a good way to get there, it is more than that.  There is also humor in the Bible.  Some of the stories are joyful, but others are downright funny.  Professor Hershey Friedman says that the different types of humor we find in scripture include, sarcasm, irony, wordplay, humorous names, humorous imagery, and humorous situations.  A couple of examples, when the Israelites were fleeing Egypt, they used sarcasm in confronting Moses by saying, “was there a lack of graves in Egypt that you took us away to die in the wilderness?”  In Samuel, Achish said to David, “Why did you bring him to me? Do I lack lunatics that you have brought this one to carry on insanely in my presence?"  Jesus says, “"You are like a person who picks a fly out of his drink and then swallows a camel".  Additionally, God names Isaac “laughter” – the one who leads us forward, who is our ancestor in faith is named “laughter”.
Laughter is a gift from God in so many ways.  Research shows that laughing actually has pain-reducing capacities, and it raises our pain threshold so we can tolerate pain better and we experience it less when we are laughing and for some time after a full, strong laugh.  It helps us learn – we learn better after a good laugh.  And it boosts our immune-enhancing capacities.  When we laugh fully and completely, we are said to “lose” it.  What we actually “lose” in those moments is our distraction of everything else – our distraction of our self-consciousness, our distractions of the stresses in our lives, we stop fleeing our stressing out and instead are completely present in the moment – and that moment, the NOW is where God is.
I want to read you part of an article on “The hope of laughter” by Rev. A. Stephen Pieters: Article by Stephen Pieters

In the Genesis passages that we read for today, we hear that there are different kinds of laughter.  Abraham laughs out of disbelief, but it doesn’t feel bitter to me.  It just feels like someone has said something so surprising and so ridiculous that he can’t help but laugh.  Sarah’s laugh feels different.   Her laughter feels more like sarcasm – almost a bitter laughter, a “yeah right” kind of chuckle.  And this laughter God confronts, saying there is nothing that is beyond God, no matter how “absurd” it may seem.  But in the end, Sarah names her son laughter – and in this laughing it is delight.  It is the laughter of sarcasm and bitterness turned into the laughter of joy, of celebration.  Finally, we come to another story of Jesus’ resurrection.  And through it we are reminded that God has the final “laugh”.  And this time that laugh is on death itself.  Even that is overcome, to the surprise, to the JOY, to the delight of God’s people and the disciples in particular.  The joke is on “evil”.  Good wins.  It is hilarious and wondrous and wonderful that just when death seemed to win and grab even Christ, that even death was overcome.  It is not just something to celebrate, this is something to truly delight in, to laugh about!  God is the God of the amazing, of healing, of joy, of LAUGHTER.  And today we celebrate THAT gift – we honor THAT gift by laughing with God, by enjoying life WITH God, by remembering that God won!

AND, to end with a few more laughs:
After every flight, UPS pilots fill out a form, called a 'gripe sheet,' which tells mechanics about problems with the aircraft. The mechanics correct the problems, document their repairs on the form, and then pilots review the gripe sheets before the next flight.

Here are some actual maintenance complaints submitted by UPS pilots (marked with a P) and the solutions recorded (marked with an S) by maintenance engineers.
P: Left inside main tire almost needs replacement.
 S: Almost replaced left inside main tire.

P: Test flight OK, except auto-land very rough.
 S: Auto-land not installed on this aircraft.

P: Something loose in cockpit.
 S: Something tightened in cockpit.

P: Dead bugs on windshield.
 S: Live bugs on back-order.

P: Autopilot in altitude-hold mode produces a 200-feet-per-minute descent.
 S: Cannot reproduce problem on ground.

P: Evidence of leak on right main landing gear.
 S: Evidence removed.

P: DME volume unbelievably loud.
 S: DME volume set to more believable level.

P: Friction locks cause throttle levers to stick.
 S: That's what friction locks are for.

P: IFF inoperative in OFF mode.
 S: IFF is always inoperative in OFF mode.

P: Suspected crack in windshield.
 S: Suspect you're right.

P: Number 3 engine missing.
 S: Engine found on right wing after brief search.

P: Aircraft handles funny. (I love this one!)
 S: Aircraft warned to straighten up, fly right and be serious.

P: Target radar hums.
 S: Reprogrammed target radar with lyrics..

P: Mouse in cockpit.
 S: Cat installed.

P: Noise coming from under instrument panel. Sounds like a midget pounding on something with a hammer.
 S: Took hammer away from the midget

Speaking up, offending and being offended, truth telling, and when to keep quiet.

I don't know why this is, but we seem to offend and hurt others and be offended and hurt by others on a fairly regular basis.  It seems to be part of the human condition and I've found myself wondering about this as I've experienced both this past week.  More, I've found myself wondering why we don't talk about it more openly.

This last week I've become more aware of a couple people who have "distanced" themselves, for lack of a better term. I can only assume that something I said or did has offended them or hurt them. Maybe there is another reason. Perhaps they are busy with other things, perhaps something has happened in their personal lives that makes this distance more necessary.  All of that could be possible. But given their demeanor and changed stance, I don't think that's what it is. Unfortunately, neither of them have told me what it is, so I am left in the dark.

By the same token, I've found myself personally hurt by a couple folk.  Did they mean to hurt me?  In one case, possibly; but in the other, I'm quite certain they did not. And I, too, have failed to say anything.  I tell myself I'm being oversensitive and therefore just need to deal with it.  I tell myself it's pointless to say anything because they wouldn't hear it or understand it anyway but would just be offended and they would step away. But instead, I end up putting distance there.  I, too, choose to step back rather than be seen as too "intense" or overly excitable.  I choose the position of "power", being the one to distance rather than being the one to speak my truth and risk being hurt by the other person stepping away.

My church received an annonymous nasty note stuck into our door over the week I was gone in response to the rainbow flag we fly in front of our property.  It contained the usual comment of people who actually haven't read anything Jesus said. It said that God hates certain people and that if we don't hate those people too, then God hates us and will send us to hell. The point, though, is that it was annonymous. So I guess there are people who do speak up when they are hurt or offended.  But they choose to do it annonymously.

I have seen two posts on facebook in the last couple weeks that were both expressing the decision to not speak up.  In one a person was very angry at an injustice but chose not to speak.  The other was a meme that basically said that it is wisdom to walk away when someone has a stupid opinion rather than confronting it.

I have found myself reflecting on all of these situations.  And I have come to the conclusion that we all have one thing in common.  And that is a lack of courage.  Why is it so hard to claim our position, to state our feelings, our opinions, directly, openly, honestly, and in ways that do not do further damage and do not injure the other with name-calling, accusations, and demeaning words but instead just say, "Ouch. That hurts. And here is why." or with "I really disagree with that and here is why."? It feels incredibly risky to just own our feelings and our own opinions.  It feels vulnerable to choose to be honest about our hurt or our thoughts and risk the other person being mean, disagreeing, or walking away from us.  It feels more powerful to be angry and silent, or to be in control as we choose to step back rather than say what we think.  I get that. I get it again and again because I, too, lack the courage in the face of hurt or disagreement sometimes to just say, "I disagree" or "that hurts."  I'm not good on my feet, so when someone is angry at me and expresses that in mean words, I often can't think of the best thing to say.  I usually can only think of the best response hours or days later.  So instead I choose silence.  I choose to let the relationship be damaged rather than to take the risk of being vulnerable and admitting I am hurt or that I disagree.

I've been telling others to speak their truth.  From the position of being the one who has been walked away from, I keep telling others to speak rather than stay silent. "Don't give up on people like me!" I plead. "Some of us are trying and we need your help to be the people we want to be!  Please don't see me as beyond redemption, as beyond learning, as beyond understanding.  Give me a chance to hear, to learn, and to grow.  Tell me when I have hurt you so I can understand. Tell me when you disagree so I can hear a new perspective. Don't walk away, but give our relationship a real chance by speaking, by talking, by taking the risk of telling me what may be uncomfortable for both of us. And then stay with me and don't quit 'us'. Please."

I say it.  I mean it.  But I struggle to practice it. And I have to own that. It is hard to speak our truth to people who don't listen or who seem unable to understand. It is hard to take the risk of admitting when we are hurting. It is hard to choose to be vulnerable.

So I write this for myself and to myself once again: I believe with all my heart that loving, truly loving, is hard. It is hard. And we are called to keep doing it, again and again, and again and again. Loving our enemies, loving our friends, loving all those around us means taking risks.  It is risky.  It is scary. And it involves being real, speaking the truth, and being vulnerable.

I will say what I have said before: I am beyond grateful to those people who have been brave with me, who took the time to speak their truth to me, to tell me when I messed up, to tell me when I hurt them, to tell me that they disagree. I've learned and grown only because people took chances and risks and were willing to take the time to talk without assuming I could never learn or grow. So I pray for the courage to be the one to do the same and to speak. And I pray for the wisdom to see that if they don't hear me in this moment that that is okay.  They may hear it down the road.  They may never hear it.  They may walk away, or they may even become angry.  But that is not my responsibility.  What they do with what they are given is up to them.  The only thing that is my responsibility is to speak, to be fully present, fully honest, fully open - to give what I have been gifted to pass on.  That is all I am called to do.  God, grant me the courage to do it.

Easter Sermon - All in a Word

Isaiah 65:17-25

John 20:1-18

We start Easter morning in despair.  We start with Jesus dead, and a journey to a tomb where we will be comforted by at least preserving the body.  And we go to the tomb and even the body has been taken away.  There is nothing left of the man who was hope, who was God, who had become everything to us in such a short time.  There is nothing left of the one who led, instructed, healed, freed, saved and LOVED us more than his own life.  We start Easter by facing an empty tomb that appears to be a sign that every single part of this Lord we loved has been taken from us.  Everything we have known, everything we counted on, everything we believed and trusted and which gave us life and a reason to get up in the morning, EVERYTHING has been taken.  It is all gone.  There is nothing left.  This, THIS is how Easter begins. 

Women are crying, men are desperate.  And God appears to be silent.  In the face of Jesus’ suffering and death, where is God for those couple days?  He dies on Friday evening.  A day and a half pass and there is nothing.  Emptiness.  Silence. 

BUT, God’s silence is not God’s absence.  I want to say that again because I think there have been times when all of us have felt angry, hurt or abandoned by God.  God’s SILENCE is not God’s ABSENCE.  I think it is sometimes in the silence that God is most profoundly with us.  It’s just that there are times when the pain is so deep, so profound that there is simply nothing left to be said.  Have you ever come across someone at the point of tragedy where you know that there just simply isn’t anything to say?  What do you say to someone who has just been evicted from their home?  What can possibly be said to a child whose dog has died?  What words of comfort are there to a parent whose child has just committed suicide?  Phrases like “it’ll be okay”, or “everything happens for a reason” or “he’s in a better place now” not only mean nothing in those moments but often do more damage than good.  The best we can do is to be present with one another in those times.  Deeply, and completely present.  And that’s what God does. 

We see it first in Jesus.  When Lazarus dies, Jesus first response at seeing the tomb was not to speak words, but to weep.  So, too, when he comes before Pilate.  Pilate asks him “what is truth?” and Jesus does not answer but stands there in the silence – a profound statement in itself. 

Here we see it again.  Jesus has been killed, is dead.  And some of his last words are those feelings that we share, too, when we are faced with tragedy and devastation.  “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”  And we feel that too in the face of our Lord’s death.  He is gone.  He is dead.  And now even his body is removed from the tomb, it would seem.  And God?  Where is God in this?  The answer is silence.  Silence for almost two days. 

               But I say to you again, God’s silence is not God’s absence. 

A pearl begins its life inside an oyster's shell when an intruder, such as a grain of sand or bit of floating food, slips in between one of the two shells of the oyster.  In order to protect itself from irritation, the oyster quickly begins covering the uninvited visitor with layers of nacre — the mineral substance that fashions the mollusk's shells. Layer upon layer of nacre, also known as mother-of-pearl, coat the grain of sand until the pearl is made. 

In the silence, as God sits with us, weeps with us, grieves with us, carries us, God is also doing a new thing.  In the silence, in the quiet, in the stillness, God is transforming the evil into good.  God is changing that which is ugly, devastating and destructive into new breath, new beauty, new meaning.  God is bringing life out of death.  Making the sand and pain and irritation into a pearl.  Can we see it?  Is the silence around us so loud that we cannot see the new thing God is doing?  Like Mary, are we so blinded by our tears that we do not see the risen Lord standing right there beside us, but instead mistake him for the gardener? 

And yet, even then, God has the final word.  Even then, in that moment of ultimate despair when the silence, when the loss was so great that even that which was right before her could not be seen, even in that moment, God reached across the divide, and called for our attention when we did not want to give it.  In that moment, Jesus called Mary by name.  He spoke into her heart, opened her ears to hear that which she could not SEE, and through his voice, his naming her his own, his calling her by her name, he invited her into belief.  And that belief allowed her to SEE, finally.  Because, though we’ve been told that seeing is believing, we here know that the truth is that some things must be believed in order to be seen.  And resurrection is such a thing. 

Resurrection is not a past event.  The God of resurrection, the God who ended the ultimate tragedy and brought Jesus into new life continues to do the same.  That is what God is about.  That is what God does.  Can we believe in it enough to see it?  Can we have the faith to experience the resurrections that surround us?  Whenever a friendship that has died is replaced with a closer friendship that is even stronger.  Whenever a divorced or widowed person meets someone new to love.  Whenever a lost job leads us to find a new job that we really, deeply love.  Whenever our tragedies are made into something new and whole, resurrection is occurring again. 

               But perhaps the even deeper question is not only can we see it, but can we allow ourselves to be part of the resurrection?  I think about the women who began MADD – Mothers Against Drunk Driving.  One of the two women was a person who had lost her 13 year old to a drunk driver as the child was walking to a church carnival.  The other was a mother whose 5 ½ month old baby was hit in a car by a drunk driver, leaving her a quadriplegic.  These two women began MADD, taking their rage, their pain and their loss and transforming it into a group that educates, tells the truth and works hard to prevent any further tragedies such as their own.  The tragedy still happened.  Lives have still been lost, others severely and permanently injured. The resurrection doesn’t happen without the scars being there. 

               I was sent this story some time ago and found it appropriate to share with you today:  The author wrote: I try not to be biased, but I had my doubts about hiring Stevie. His placement counselor assured me that he would be a good, reliable busboy.  But I had never had a mentally handicapped employee and wasn't sure I wanted one. I wasn't sure how my customers would react to Stevie.  He was short, a little dumpy with the smooth facial features and thick-tongued speech of Downs Syndrome. …I knew people would be uncomfortable around Stevie so I closely watched him for the first few weeks.  I shouldn't have worried. After the first week, Stevie had my staff wrapped around his stubby little finger, and within a month my truck regulars had adopted him as their official truck stop mascot.  …He was like a 21-year-old kid in blue jeans and Nikes, eager to laugh and eager to please, but fierce in his attention to his duties. Every salt and pepper shaker was exactly in its place, not a bread crumb or coffee spill was visible when Stevie got done with the table. Our only problem was persuading him to wait to clean a table until after the customers were finished. He would hover in the background, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, scanning the dining room until a table was empty. Then he would scurry to the empty table and carefully bus dishes and glasses onto his cart and meticulously wipe the table up with a practiced flourish of his rag. If he thought a customer was watching, his brow would pucker with added concentration. He took pride in doing his job exactly right, and you had to love how hard he tried to please each and every person he met.  Over time, we learned that he lived with his mother, a widow who was disabled after repeated surgeries for cancer. They lived on their Social Security benefits in public housing two miles from the truck stop. Their social worker, who stopped to check on him every so often, admitted they had fallen between the cracks. Money was tight, and what I paid him was probably the difference between them being able to live together and Stevie being sent to a group home. That's why the restaurant was a gloomy place that morning last August, the first morning in three years that Stevie missed work.  He was at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester getting a new valve or something put in his heart. His social worker said that people with Downs Syndrome often have heart problems at an early age so this wasn't unexpected, and there was a good chance he would come through the surgery in good shape and be back at work in a few months.. A ripple of excitement ran through the staff later that morning when word came that he was out of surgery, in recovery, and doing fine. Frannie, the head waitress, let out a war hoop and did a little dance in the aisle when she heard the good news…But when asked what was going on by the customers, she responded, " Yeah, I'm so very glad that he is going to be OK, but I don't know how he and his Mom are going to handle all the bills. From what I hear, they're barely getting by as it is." One of the customers nodded thoughtfully in response.  After the morning rush, Frannie walked into my office. She had a couple of paper napkins in her hand and a funny look on her face.
"What's up?" I asked.
"I didn't get that table where Marvin and his friends were sitting cleared off after they left, and Pete and Tony were sitting there when I got back to clean it off," she said. "This was folded and tucked under a coffee cup." She handed the napkin to me, and three $20 bills fell onto my desk when I opened it. On the outside, in big, bold letters, was printed "Something For Stevie."
"Pete asked me what that was all about," she said, "so I told him about Stevie and his Mom and everything, and Pete looked at Tony and Tony looked at Pete, and they ended up giving me this." She handed me another paper napkin that had "Something For Stevie"scrawled on its outside. Two $50 bills were tucked with in its folds. Frannie looked at me with wet, shiny eyes, shook her head and said simply: "truckers."
That was three months ago. Today is Thanksgiving, the first day Stevie is supposed to be back to work.
His placement worker said he's been counting the days until the doctor said he could work, and it didn't matter at all that it was a holiday. He called 10 times in the past week, making sure we knew he was coming, fearful that we had forgotten him or that his job was in jeopardy. I arranged to have his mother bring him to work. I then met them in the parking lot and invited them both to celebrate his day back.
Stevie was thinner and paler, but couldn't stop grinning as he pushed through the doors and headed for the back room where his apron and busing cart were waiting.
"Hold up there, Stevie, not so fast," I said. I took him and his mother by their arms. "Work can wait for a minute. To celebrate your coming back, breakfast for you and your mother is on me!" I led them toward a large corner booth at the rear of the room.
I could feel and hear the rest of the staff following behind as we marched through the dining room. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw booth after booth of grinning truckers empty and join the procession. We stopped in front of the big table. Its surface was covered with coffee cups, saucers and dinner plates, all sitting slightly crooked on dozens of folded paper napkins. "First thing you have to do, Stevie, is clean up this mess," I said. I tried to sound stern.
Stevie looked at me, and then at his mother, then pulled out one of the napkins. It had "Something for Stevie" printed on the outside. As he picked it up, two $10 bills fell onto the table.
Stevie stared at the money, then at all the napkins peeking from beneath the tableware, each with his name printed or scrawled on it. I turned to his mother. "There's more than $10,000 in cash and checks on that table, all from truckers and trucking companies that heard about your problems. "Happy Thanksgiving."
Well, it got real noisy about that time, with everybody hollering and shouting, and there were a few tears, as well.
But you know what's funny? While everybody else was busy shaking hands and hugging each other, Stevie, with a big smile on his face, was busy clearing all the cups and dishes from the table..
Best worker I ever hired.”

               We participate in God’s resurrections whenever we transform the negative experiences we or others have had into life-giving, life-changing work.  We participate in God’s resurrection whenever we can forgive and reconcile a relationship.  We participate in God’s resurrection whenever we see an opportunity to give through a crisis or be present with someone else in their pain.  We participate in God’s resurrection work whenever we become creative in our solutions to problems that seem impossible and step out to make a difference in the life of one or more people.

It doesn’t mean the bad things didn’t happen.  They DID happen.  The resurrection does not wipe out what took place.  When someone hurts us, it DID happen, and the reconciliation cannot look like the injury never took place.  The women who began MADD still lost their children or watched their children suffer.  In the story I told Stevie was still a boy with Down’s Syndrome who would still struggle physically as well as mentally.  Jesus, too, was resurrected with his scars, which we know because Thomas put his hands in them and in Jesus’ side.  But a resurrection with the scars is a resurrected life that has deepened, that understands pain and loss and that can walk with even deeper compassion and fully love. 

I want to end by sharing with you a poem written by Brian McLaren for pastors during this Easter time.  But since all the people of the church are the ministers of the church…I think this will none the less resonate with all of us:

  A prayer for pastors on Easter

Dear Lord, I pray for all the pastors today

 Who will feel enormous pressure to have their sermon

 Match the greatness of the subject

 and will surely feel they have failed.

 (I pray even more for those who think they have succeeded.)

Help them to know that it is enough

 Simply and faithfully to tell the story

 Of women in dawn hush ...

 Of men running half-believing ...

 Of rolled stones and folded grave-clothes ...

 Of a supposed gardener saying the name of a crying woman ...

 Of sad walkers encountering a stranger on the road home ...

 Of an empty tomb and overflowing hearts.

Give them the wisdom to know that sincere humility and awe

 Surpass all homiletic flourish

 On this day of mysterious hope beyond all words.

Make them less conscious of their responsibility to preach,

 And more confident of the Risen Christ

 Whose presence trumps all efforts to proclaim it.

Considering all the Easter choirs who will sing beautifully, and those who won't,

 And all the Easter prayers that will soar in faith, and those that will stumble and flounder,

 And all the Easter attendance numbers and offering numbers that will exceed expectations

 And those that will disappoint ...

 I pray they all will be surpassed by the simple joy

 Of women and men standing in the presence of women and men,

 Daring to proclaim and echo the good news:

 Risen indeed! Alleluia!

For death is not the last word.

 Violence is not the last word.

 Hate is not the last word.

 Money is not the last word.

 Intimidation is not the last word.

 Political power is not the last word.

 Condemnation is not the last word.

 Betrayal and failure are not the last word.

 No: each of them are left like rags in a tomb,

 And from that tomb,

 Arises Christ,

 Alive.

Help the preachers feel it,

 And if they don't feel it, help them

 Preach it anyway, allowing themselves

 To be the receivers as well as the bearers of the Easter

 News.

 Alleluia!

(http://brianmclaren.net/archives/blog/a-prayer-for-pastors-on-easter.html)

Good Friday Mini-Homily on 3rd Last Word

I was deeply privileged to be part of two amazing Good Friday services today.  The second one was led by our truly wonderful choir.  24 strong voices leading worship with the Tenebrae "Song of the Shadows" by Joseph Martin.  Incredibly beautiful.  Left me with goose bumps.  Such a gift to be in our darkening sanctuary listening and experiencing those words sung and spoken.

The first service today was an Ecumenical service, once again held at our local Catholic parish.  Each of four of us pastors/priests took one of the last 7 words and spoke on it.  So for the second time in three months I preached in a Catholic church.  Truly an honor to lead with my brothers of other faith traditions today.  Here is my sermonette on the words "Woman, here is your son....(Disciple), here is your mother."

John 19:23-27

               “And from that hour the disciple took her into his home.”  And it was right and good that he did so. And yet, it also shows a continuing misunderstanding of Jesus.  He had very little breath left.  He could not again spend it explaining everything he had taught to them, once more, from the beginning.  So he summed it up as concisely as possible with these words, “Woman behold your son.”  And to his disciple, “Behold your mother.”  And they made a start towards understanding it.  But they didn’t go far enough.

               The reality for women at that time was that they were supported by the men in their lives.  Unattached to a male, their lives were nothing.  Without Jesus, without her first son, it is likely that Mary would have had no living, no life, no support.  But perhaps more than that, she had lost this person whom she loved, her child, her everything.  And Jesus was trying to comfort her, trying to reassure both her and the disciple whom he loved that they would not be alone, that they would not be without support.  I’m sure it was a huge comfort to both to have each other, to have one another, to be together.  But it was only part of the picture. 

               Mitch Albom in his book, Have a Little Faith: A True Story (Hyperion, New York, 2009) shared that the Reb, or the Rabbi, whom he loved and who was the focus of the story, struggled with what seemed to be an increasing lack of community.

               “When I was growing up in the Bronx,” the Reb said, “everyone knew everyone.  Our apartment building was like family.  We watched out for one another.  I remember once, as a boy, I was so hungry, and there was a fruit and vegetable truck parked by our building.  I tried to bump against it, so an apple would fall into my hands.  That way it wouldn’t feel like stealing.  Suddenly, I heard a voice form above yelling at me in Yiddish, ‘Albert, that is forbidden!’  I jumped.  I thought it was God!”  Who was it? I asked. “A lady who lived upstairs… (the point is) We were part of each other’s lives.  If someone was about to slip, someone else could catch them…. We’re losing that now… everyone has a car.  Everyone has a million things scheduled.  How can you look out for your neighbor?  You’re lucky to get a family to sit down for a meal together.” (p 62,63)

               Again and again, Jesus called us to love one another.  Again and again Jesus reminded us that this is what our call is all about: caring for each other.  And not as an abstract concept but as a concrete, real idea, practical and necessary.  Jesus tells us later in John 17:20-23: "...that they may all be one, just as you, Father, are in me, and I in you, that they also may be in us, … The glory that you have given me I have given to them, that they may be one even as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may become perfectly one.”  Jesus’ whole ministry centered on how to do that, how to love one another.  He healed, he fed, he touched the untouchable, he uplifted the down trodden, he cared for those no one else even SAW, he talked to and honored women, children, Samaritans, Syrophoenicians, Gentiles – anyone and everyone he encountered. He stood up for those others would reject. But people still didn’t get it.  They still treated each other as strangers, as people we encounter but don’t really, truly LOVE.  So Jesus said it again, here, at the end of his life, in the most practical way he could to those who loved him the most.  “This is your mother.”  “This is your son.” 

I say those words to you again, for all to hear, “The woman sitting in front of you whom you do not know is your mother.  The child sitting in school struggling to understand his math is your son.  The man in prison whom you have never considered except to condemn or fear is your brother.  And the woman who hears voices, who talks to herself, is unbathed and uncombed, the one who lives on the street - she is your sister.  This is your family.  This is our family.  And we are called to love one another in that same way.

               “Woman, behold your son.” 

               “Disciple, behold your mother.”

Raising Kids Alone, Part II

On October 2, 2015 I wrote about being a solo parent from the perspective of recognizing that it really does take a village to raise a child and that we are all called to be part of that.  I shared the struggles, the challenges, of trying to raise kids alone.

But I found myself today reflecting on this in a different way, from the perspective of the gifts that I experience in being a solo parent, as well as being the solo head of house.

I have found that my children are much closer to me than they were before.  The downside of this is that I worry they have not done the "growing up and away" that kids are supposed to do, or at least not as early or as fully as other kids.  But while I have a bit of concern about that, I also really enjoy the closeness I share with my kids. They talk to me.  I know not every parent experiences that from their kids.  They share with me their fears, their hopes, their dreams and their frustrations.  They ask for one on one time with me and we value that time together, both individually and as a family.  We are close in a way that I see only shared by other solo parents with their kids.

Secondly, I get to make the kid and parenting decisions on my own.  There is no debating, the decisions are mine to make. I shared the downside of this before which is that I know I sometimes make mistakes with those decisions, or I don't always choose what is ultimately best for my kids (though I try hard to do so). None the less, there are times when it is simply easier to not have to make every decision about the kids with someone else.

Thirdly, while I have had to learn some things I never really wanted to learn, on the other hand, I've learned many things that I now value knowing.  Even more, I've learned how to DO things that I never expected I would learn how to do.  I had no desire to learn how to mow a lawn, but I know how to do that now.  I had no desire to learn how to fix basic household things, or how to hang outdoor Christmas tree lights, or how to change the furnace filter, but I know how to do these things now.  I know many women learn these things without becoming single moms.  And because I believe in equality, it embarrasses me at some level how traditionally our roles ended up being divided in some ways. But they did. Not anymore.  And finally, I never thought I would learn how to do this:

     Cutting hair and shaving heads (sometimes he chooses to have a shaved head) just never made the list of things I expected to learn how to do.  But I do it now for my son on a semi-regular basis.  (As an aside, my son's crabby face is not because he doesn't like having his hair cut.  He didn't like that his sister was watching. (sigh).)

       Yes, being a single parent is tiring at times.  I can become overwhelmed when everyone has immediate needs at the exact same moment.  But there are huge gifts as well.  And for today, I am grateful for the life I am leading this day.

Sunday's Sermon - Lord, Save Us!

Psalm 118:1-2, 19-29

Luke 19:28-40

In a small college town a tavern frequented by students ran the following ad in the campus paper during the days before Parent’s Weekend: “Bring your parents for lunch Saturday.  We’ll pretend we don’t know you!”  The ad was soon challenged by the college chaplain, who posted a revised version on the campus bulletin board.  It read: “Bring your parents to chapel Sunday.  We’ll pretend we know you!”

Our laughter in part, I think, reflects our realization that our expectations for people can blind us to who they really are.  If we expect our child to be the one bringing us to chapel, that is what we often will see.  So it is with Jesus as well.      

Today we read the story we tell every Palm Sunday, the story of Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem. In a sense, this is the same story as the advent stories of Jesus’ coming. Or at least there are strong parallels. During advent we prepare for Jesus’ coming as a baby. And we are reminded that his coming will not be what we expect. He won’t be the king of the powerful and rich, he will be king of the poor and outcast, not born in power and might, but born as a poor baby. He won’t make things comfortable but will disrupt and disturb the status quo. Today, he comes again: this time into Jerusalem at the end of his life. And again, the people of the time are filled with expectations which will not be met. In the Matthew, Mark and John versions of today’s scriptures, they shout “Hosanna!” which means?  It means, “Lord save us!” or “Lord Help us!” And they had every expectation that this salvation would come in the form of stopping the oppression of the Romans in a military way.

We are again called to look for Jesus in the unexpected, to look for God’s presence in new ways. To look beyond the triumphal march into Jerusalem and instead focus on Jesus’ message for us and his call for us to follow in his ways of love, peace, sacrifice and hope.

Jesus was the lord of the outcasts, the lord of the poor, the lord of the marginalized and displaced. And this day, the day of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem was his day. It was also THEIR day.  He entered Jerusalem to the waving of palm branches, on a donkey’s colt (according to the other gospels), with the multitude of his followers placing their cloaks on the ground before him. He was surrounded by those who had been healed of their afflictions, those he had empowered, those he had freed, those he had loved, and they were so excited by his coming! Their king, their lord was entering Jerusalem! They believed he would save them, that he would take back the city and he would free Israel from the oppression of the Romans. He would lift high the lowly and everything would be okay again. Can you imagine the excitement? Jesus would make all their pain go away, he would make it good, he would bring blessings, freedom and shalom, peace, wholeness to Israel.  This was a day to rejoice indeed.

The Pharisees, the righteous, those who still had some power and some wealth and some freedom, even in the midst of Roman occupation were also present. But how differently they must have seen things! Here was this carpenter’s son, this Jewish man on a DONKEY - a sign of humility and poverty, not a grand royal horse, but a donkey. And here he was surrounded by the outcasts, the poor, those who had no power or resources, the “riff raff”. How could they really think this man would make a difference in their lives? How could they really think he could help them? They laid their cloaks on the ground before him - a gesture usually reserved for royalty.  But what cloaks! These were not rich frocks covering the dirt to provide a clean and royal ride for a king. Instead they were rags, used clothes, hand-me-downs, worn to threads - a symbolic gesture for a clown king. What a joke!! How could this man be a king? How could he do anything with this rag tag group of people to make their lives acceptable? 

In addition, the Pharisees were undoubtedly more than a little nervous about the scene Jesus and the disciples were making. The Romans did control Jerusalem. What if they felt threatened by this man? Who would they punish? Probably all of Israel - starting at the top. No, the Pharisees figured, it was important that this man and this demonstration be stopped before there were violent repercussions and more hardships inflicted on them from the Romans. 

And then there is Jesus’ perspective. This was Jesus’ day - the only day during his life time that the work he had done and the message he brought were honored and supported and uplifted in this grand way. For within a week the crowds would become disappointed by his lack of military action. Within a week they would have turned on him. Within a week he would be dead. And Jesus saw this. He knew that he was not the kind of king they wanted. He was never going to be the military man, come to overthrow the Roman rule. He was never going to be like our mortal, human kings. Instead, he was a king of love. He was a king of peace. And the difference he came to make was not military or violent. It was to change people from inside, to heal, to empower, to teach them to see everyone as brother and sister and to rejoice in that love. And if he could succeed in teaching people to love each other, that would make a difference far greater than any military or violent action possibly could. For Jesus, this was the day to celebrate. It was also a day to grieve for the people still didn’t get it. They still didn’t see him or his message. They were still expecting something different.

What version of Jesus do we see? What expectations for Jesus do we have? As we read today’s story about his entry into Jerusalem do we see, like Jesus’ disciples, a king who will rule the people and lead them in triumph? One who will return in glory to take over and make everything fair and right? I think most of us would hope for that. Most people, indeed most Christians, still expect a returning Jesus to overthrow our current governments and rule with might and strength. But that has never been the God Jesus has shown us. Do we, then, like the Pharisees, see a weak fool who really will not be able to effect positive change but may instead make things worse by creating fear in those who do have power? Or… can we instead see the man of the marginalized who will confront us for our riches and power and ask us to change our ways and serve the poor and marginalized? Can we see and expect a man who will upset the status quo, upset our comfortable lives by overturning the money changers in the temple – demanding a counter cultural behavior instead, ask from us actions of love instead of simple work towards making money, or friends or power? Who do we see? What do we expect?

“Lord Save us!” the people cried. They cried it in trust that he would save them. They cried it with hope and expectation. They cried it with joy and celebration. And the fact is, if they had listened he would have saved them, but again, not in the way they expected or wanted. When we can change our lives around from being fearful, angry, and hating into being people whose lives are truly governed by LOVE (which includes gratitude, faith, hope, trust, peace), then our lives ARE saved, they become different, they are changed into lives of meaning, of purpose, of “eternal life” in the sense of becoming so much bigger than ourselves. But this is not the way people then, or now, want to be saved. We want to be saved from our pain, from our grief. We want to be saved from financial struggles and worries. We want to be rescued from anything that hurts us or is oppressive, demeaning, unfair. We forget that we are called to be the change we want to see, to be God’s hands and feet in the world. We forget and instead want to be rescued – from ourselves perhaps most of all.

Palm Sunday is a day of celebration. We celebrate the kingship of Jesus. But it is also a day of reflection. We are called to reflect on the ways that kingship is different from our expectations. We reflect on our call to look for God’s coming in different and unexpected ways. We look to see God’s glory as it speaks to us today. Open your heart to God’s coming. Open your soul to the new possibilities present this day, here and now. And maybe, instead of “Lord, save us!” we need to be shouting, “Show us how to save you through saving and loving one another.” Amen.