This Too Shall Pass

Perhaps you don’t reflect much on the past or the past year as the new one is dawning. However, I am plagued with a mind that is always reflecting on things great and small. 2008 was a really mixed bag for me. It was an emotional rollercoaster of highs and lows. Mostly, though, it was difficult. So, when I came across the following quote it hit me like a ton of bricks. Maybe it will speak to you, and may 2009 be the best year ever for you and your family.

“And the king wanted an inscription
good for a thousand years and after
that to the end of the world?”
“Yes, precisely so.”
“Something so true and awful that no
matter what happened it would stand?”
“Yes, exactly that.”
Something no matter who spit on it or
Laughed at it there it would stand
And nothing would change it?”
“Yes, that was what the king ordered
his wise men to write.”
“And what did they write?”
“Five words: THIS TOO SHALL PASS AWAY.”

Carl Sandburg
The People, Yes

A Lesson from the Rolling Stones

One of the things that interest me is longevity. I enjoy looking at classic cars, old ruins, and things that have grown in value over the years. Well, I guess you could say, the Rolling Stones could be on the Antique Roadshow – their value to me, though, is priceless. It is interesting when one of the few intact rock bands meet one of the (arguably) great filmmakers of our lifetime, Martin Scorsese. There is no question in my mind that the cinematography of his film about the Rolling Stones “Shine Your Light on Me” is beyond compare. If you watch it closely, you can see a master at work, and if you study just the band members with their gestures and the way they interact, you discover the aura that surrounds each of them. For example, I really enjoyed Keith Richards who may look like a character out of “The Night of the Living Dead” but comes across to me as a sweet, affable, and friendly old rocker. They all look as though they have been through a few winters, but they come alive when they strap their guitars on and walk into each other’s presence in a theater like the Beacon in New York, where this was filmed.

What flows out of this film for me is that the Stones still have it after all these years, but far more important than that, they love what they do. Throughout the film there are excerpts of interviews with each of them, and the same question comes up ad nauseum: “How long are you going to keep doing this?” You see pictures of them in every decade, being asked this question, over and over and over again. The answer is, they don’t know. All they know is they love it. They love to play the guitar and jam, they love to sing and perform, and they are doing it not for the money anymore but for the love of it. My guess is that they will do it until they can’t do it anymore. Richards put it this way: “Honestly, I’d do this job even if I were in a wheelchair.”

The more I thought about it as I watched the DVD for the second time, the reason it is so inviting or enjoyable is that you can see they just love what they do. And when you can see that, it is inspiring. How many of us could say that we love what we do? I don’t mean just the job you have, but the other things we do in life. I would like to think I could.

A Place at the Table

A few years ago I took a special trip with my friend Tim to the Palestinian city of Cana where I went to the church of the Wedding of Cana. It was a small area in this very populated city. In order to find the church we had to drive down narrow one-way streets until we arrived at our destination with very reasonable souvenir shops surrounding it. There were almost no tourists. I circled around the place and looked at the church and its well-kept gardens. It was very nicely done, but nothing that I would characterize as overwhelming or remarkable. It was beautifully understated. This is so often not the case in the Holy Land where most sacred spots and shrines can even seem a bit gaudy.

The miracle of Cana is traditionally the first miracle of Jesus that begins his ministry. There are many interpretations of the significance of this event, which range from a spat with his mother, to the miraculous power of Jesus, to the symbolism of the wedding occurring on the third day. There is much to draw from the story, and it remains part of the collection of the miracles of Jesus that were recorded in the Gospel of Matthew.


Years later, I made a visit on a member of my parish who, during the course of our conversation, told me that she had a dream about the wedding of Cana and the wine that Jesus had changed from water. She woke from her dream with a thirst that made here want to taste that wine. Then it dawned on her that she had already tasted it, at the altar on Sunday morning. When she related the story, I, too, was enlightened. Blessed and holy wine ready to be tasted… The Eucharist is a celebration of transforming wine that transmits the presence of our Lord. Thank you, Jill - that story will have an even deeper meaning for me. Keep dreaming…

Obama and the Weight of Glory

We have all witnessed over the past week the end of an astonishing campaign for president. I personally am attracted to both John McCain and Barack Obama, in different ways, and for many reasons. Obama’s election is historic, if only because he will become the first black president of the United States. This alone is something to feel proud about if you are an American. Our country has broken through a barrier that many had thought was unbreakable for decades, if that. So, I smile and feel happy to be part of this great country.

As I look forward, my mind flashes to Jimmy Carter who looks old, Bill Clinton who looks tired, and George Bush who looks much older than when he first started. The job somehow can do that to you. As I listened to Obama speak to the huge crowd in Grant Park, I noticed what might be a different tone in his speech. He seemed a bit subdued and serious at what was a happy occasion. I can only guess what he was feeling at that moment, and my guess is that in that sober speech he was beginning to feel the heaviness of the job ahead.

In one sense one has to say, “Who wants this job?” We have witnessed the greatest financial crisis since the Great Depression whose fallout is going to be enormous. The war in Iraq and Afghanistan remains with over 150,000 troops employed in Iraq. We are still heavily dependent on oil, and Americans still feel it every time we get a home heating bill or fill up our tank. We can talk about health care, climate change, immigration, and the future of social security. The list goes on and on as our auto industry sinks to a new low and US dollars find their way out of this country. It is a hefty list for anyone to tackle.

C.S. Lewis wrote an interesting address entitled The Weight of Glory. Every time I think of this address I also think of the brilliant movie The Unbearable Lightness of Being. In the end, both pieces of work point to the heaviness of responsibility and the demands that are required of people who want to live their life with a deep sense of integrity. Our lives can be poisoned when we seek to avoid the things that need to be done. The same is true with being president of the United States. Jefferson called it “splendid misery”. It is my hope that our next president Barack Obama will not fall prey to the temptations of avoiding the tough issues that face our nation. It is my hope that we as a people will let go of the anger, hatred, and animosity which has come to characterize the partisan nature of politics. I am tired of the endless hate that has spewed over the airwaves.

Let’s take on the weight of glory when it comes to our own citizenship and move beyond the labels of Democrat or Republican, conservative or liberal.

Art for a Forgotten Faith

One of the striking aspects of the power of the Judeo-Christian tradition is the art it has spawned through the centuries. I recall being at Chartres Cathedral and being mesmerized by the stained glass and the many subtle and not-so-subtle statuary and architectural design that went into that magnificent place. The same experience can come from hundreds of other cathedrals across the world, one in particular comes to mind which is the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona. It doesn’t take much to see that faith has inspired artists like Chagall, Rembrandt, Matisse, Miró, Dalí, Goya, and countless others. From music to architecture, faith has inspired enormous creativity that moves the human spirit to ever-greater awareness of the beauty and wonder of the Divine in human life.


Today, spirituality and faith do not always seem to be the inspiring engine behind artistic creativity. Art has moved down a secular path. So, when I saw an article recently in the New York Times about an exhibition entitled “NeoHooDoo” at P.S.1 Contemporary Art Center, I was surprised to read that faith once again pops up artistically in unexpected places. In our world today religious art is relegated to museums and, often, religious faith is relegated to a bygone era. I find it refreshing that faith may surface in the art and imagination of young artists who seem to find a spiritual touchstone in aspects of the religious experience. I find this more refreshing than some of the so-called Christian art produced by a wooden imagination locked in the past. As the article said, faith may be not so forgotten after all. There is little question that contemporary art is changing yet again, and in ways that are subtle, yet profound. Put differently, this art moves in a religious way because it asks, “old questions about unanswerables - who are we, who were we, where are we going, what can we be - in slightly new ways, and that’s a start.”


Perhaps our own artistic imagination could use a jump-start, too?

Decanting Your Life

This summer Kathy, Allison and I visited family and some friends in California. Of course, when your foot touches

the ground in California, a different feeling rushes into your body if you’re me. A host of memories trigger off lots of experiences in my mind as I spent a good part of my early life there, never even leaving the state. The sun always shines, it’s warm and has a feel of the Mediterranean. It also does not take long to realize that you’re close to the epicenter of the source of magnificent wine. You will notice right away that you can buy wine of all quality in any grocery store. You can even get great brands for less at Costco. By the way, wine is significantly cheaper in California than anywhere else.

In a short break from family obligations we, along with my sister and her grown-up children, took a trip to Napa - St. Helena and Calistoga which are both located in the heart of wine country. We had been there before, of course, and love it. The fun thing to do is to go wine tasting which now has become a bit pricey, but you can still have a great time for not too much money. We visited a couple of places, but one was on our list, Clos du Bois, that we had failed to visit in the past, and I, for one, was not going to miss it this time.

So we began our journey to the back roads of Napa with a winery map in hand, looking at signs and pointing to the many wineries. We still missed it and had to stop for directions. For some reason, this winery is nestled very out of the way of the major thoroughfare; even the signs for it proved to be misleading. However, like buried treasure, we finally discovered it. It is an elegant place and appears to be popular. All six of us snuggled up at the crowded wine bar - with my sister buying cheese and crackers to eat between tastings. Our tasting expert from the winery was charming and delightful, telling us in great detail the various aspects of each wine’s properties. She was so good that you almost didn’t need to taste the wine. At any rate, with seven generous pourings and a glass that said Clos du Bois on it as a gift and part of the $5 charge, I was very happy and, for no extra charge, our guide gave us a lecture on decanting the wine. There is a lot more to pouring it than one thinks. If it is not done correctly, you can miss a lot of the richness and quality of the actual taste of the wine. Pouring it a certain way and letting it breathe can be very important. 

To me decanting means setting the wine free from the bottle that has imprisoned it an and allowing it to be enjoyed. Elizabeth Gilbert has written a book entitled Eat Pray Love which is an interesting biographical journey in the area of spirituality. She has coined the term decanting your life. It gave me pause to think of life in terms of pouring a glass of wine and allowing it to breathe and in wine connoisseur language “blossom into a life of its own”, striking your taste buds and releasing its wonderful flavors.

To me, faith is part of the process of decanting your life, setting you free from those things that imprison you and prevent you from blossoming into the person you need to become. In a certain sense faith enhances your life by pushing you out of the narrow confines of fear and worry that prevent you from taking risks and growing in new ways. Leaving the safety and security of your comfort zone means you are pushed out into a world where hope and appreciation move you into unfamiliar territory and personal growth. You don’t have to be the sediment lying on the bottom of the bottle, yours can be a rich, full-bodied life.

Frugal Luxuries on Sundays

There is an interesting column in the New York Times entitled “The Frugal Traveller”.  He recommends traveling cheaply with a budget of €100 per day.  He gives lots of tips for lodging, meals, and transportation. I did notice two interesting responses to his column by readers who also made recommendations. This one brought a smile to my face:

Go to church!  Not for religious reasons necessarily - but for cultural ones.  See how the local people spend part of their Sunday. Listen to the service and the singing and the ritual in that native language. And, it’s free!

Of course, I am for going to church and for attending church for more than cultural reasons, but I do agree that it is a luxury. In today’s busy world people are cutting out this activity because it takes up too much time or they are too busy. I have always maintained that it is a luxury to be able to sit and meditate, pray, even sing. We do not often do this, especially not in community.  I mostly sing in the shower, so when I get to sing in church, it is a real luxury. If I get to hear a great sermon, it’s even better, although most time, I am the one who is giving it - I always hope it’s great.  

Sundays for many people are chores preoccupied with getting things done that they could not accomplish during the week. The concept of Sabbath/A Day of Rest is overlooked for the hurriedness of modern life. Maybe we are participating in a luxury, even if frugal, when we gather on Sunday mornings. I like to think so.

When Coffee is more than Coffee

The new Starbucks in Mamaroneck is closing. It just opened, but I guess there are too many coffee shops, bakeries and delis on the avenue that have people’s loyalty.

Nevertheless, designer coffee is popular today. My daughter Erin does not drink Folgers and we grind our coffee at home. You can get coffee from Seattle (it seems to be the center for brewing good designer coffee), Kona Coffee from Hawaii and Fair Trade coffee that we import through the ELCA / LWR fair trade recommendations (http://www.lwrcoffee.com). Of course, there is Starbucks, and if you are Kathy you go to Trader Joe’s for Ethiopian coffee. Many of us still like Dunkin’ Donuts coffee and it appears still to be popular. In addition to closing in Mamaroneck Starbucks has recently closed hundreds of locations. Maybe Americans are feeling the effects of a stalled economy and have less expendable cash to buy $4 lattes.

When I am in Sacramento I visit a donut shop with my father located in a small tired shopping area. It is run by a Korean family and is called MASTER DONUTS. I have my favorite donut that I have been buying for years. It is made there and is made of butter milk and tastes great. This little place is popular with locals, mostly an older crowd coming in for donuts and coffee and even for something more important—fellowship. The Korean woman and her husband are on a first name basis with almost everyone. They welcome me like an old friend and they are always smiling. I just enjoy sitting out on the sidewalk on some old plastic chair and a rusty table where I set my coffee and enjoy the morning. It is almost always sunny in Sacramento and the weather has a Mediterranean feel to it.  I am happy to be in a T shirt and sandals with my dad and looking forward to a refill that is free. A big cup of Joe couldn’t taste better.

This place sells more than coffee and you will always hear a friendly hello.

Sometimes I read the Sacramento Bee and sometimes I talk and sometimes I listen to what people are saying. You can overhear conversations on every subject from politics to religion. You get a different take on the world. Points of view are freely shared, there is always some laughter and people look forward to seeing each other on a daily basis. I guess you could call it just plain fellowship with a sense of community to those who attend regularly. It is a haven for retired people who have the time to slowly go through the morning in conversation. Others just stop in for a quick cup off coffee to go. We move fast these days and many don’t find time to convers.  We are on our way like the bunny in Alice in Wonderland—“I am late… I am late for a very important date”, he says as he looks at his watch and runs off.  Fellowship and community around a donut, it happens.  It also happens at another table around bread and wine.  Sometimes coffee is more than coffee, and bread and wine is more than bread and wine.

It’s Not the Years, It’s the Mileage

I was recently at a Mets game, standing at the concession stand to buy some beer. The girl politely asked me for my ID. I looked back at her with what I am sure was a surprised look on my face. She said, again, “I need to see your ID”. I smiled and said, “Thank you for the compliment. I cannot tell you how long it has been since I have been ‘carted’.” I am not going to tell you just how long it has been since anyone has asked for my ID with regard to purchasing alcohol and it felt great to be asked.

I was reminded of aging issues while visiting my family on vacation. My dad and I went shopping for a few things for dinner. Actually, we were picking up cantaloupes that are sweet and delicious this time of year. I dream about them when I am in New York. The grocery store that we go to is called SAFEWAY, a popular supermarket chain. It is a very nice store. My dad who is deep into his 80s, still drives and carries things. I call him the “energizer bunny”. Age to me is only a number—“how old would you be if you didn’t know how old you were?” is an interesting question. Of late people are saying that 60 is the new 40. Yet, as I look at dad, he has gotten slower and a little more bent over and time is not on anyone’s side. Al Gore who just turned 60 said—“60 is the new 59.”

As dad and I entered the check-out lane, we were greeted by the cashier who was visibly upset by the fact that actor Morgan Freeman was in an auto accident and at this time his condition was unknown. She said:” I hope he will be OK, I didn’t know he was 72 years old.” She made you feel that even though she didn’t know him personally she was greatly concerned about his welfare. At this point the old lady in front of us said—“Gee, he is young, I am 90 years old.” I took a second look and this lady talked as clear as a bell and looked great. She stood up straight and was writing a check with ease for her purchase. She could have passed for years younger. I said, putting my hands on my dad’s shoulder—“He is 88 1⁄2”. She looked at him and said: “You got to hang in to 100.” We smiled. The cashier said: “We all need goals.”

I smiled when I saw the interview with Dana Torres who, at 41, was representing our country as a champion Olympic swimmer in Beijing. When asked what she would tell her two-year old daughter, she said, “You’re never too old to achieve your goals.” Just ask Sara and Abraham.

We all need goals. Psalm 90 puts it this way: “Teach us to number our days and apply our hearts unto wisdom.” That’s a goal.

Where Do Sermons Go?

There is a recent article in the Christian Century questioning the importance and effectiveness of preaching. Where Do Sermons Go? is the title. It is an interesting question that I really had not given much thought to, mainly because I do not hear a lot of sermons - I simply give them. However, after reading this article I had a chilling feeling that perhaps all of the work I put into a Sunday morning could be for naught. I do not get a huge response each Sunday even though this past week I did get an email from someone saying that that Sunday’s sermon was excellent. Perhaps I should frame it or perhaps I should hire someone to take a video of the congregation while I am preaching. Could some be writing their grocery list or sleeping with their eyes open as their faces look a bit glazed over, or could people just be distracted by children making noises and moving around?

What really happens as people listen? I like to think that their lives are transformed, their hearts opened to new possibilities for loving others, and their minds stimulated to such a degree that endorphins are shooting off. Unfortunately, I know better.

People laugh and tell me, “Can’t you use an old one? No one will know.” Actually, when I look into the files and read an old sermon, I sometimes cannot remember I wrote it and, of course, I am almost shocked by what I wrote then. I have moved on…

Luther said, “We need a living voice of the Gospel”, or in Latin, viva vox. By this he meant the Gospel needs to be proclaimed from the heart. It is not something to be read from the Bible, it is to be proclaimed. I still have trouble sleeping the night before Sunday morning, and writing a sermon is always agony. I remain hopeful, however; I cannot worry about how effective I am. That is up to the Holy Spirit and to God. I am simply called to be faithful to this task, offering up the highest level of sincerity and effort as I open my mouth and words start to come out. My favorite quote on preaching is:

The preacher pulls the little chord that turns on the lectern light and deals out his note cards like a riverboat gambler. Two minutes from now he may have lost his listerners completely to their own thoughts, but at this minute he has them in the palm of his hand. (…) In the front pew the old ladies turn up their hearing aids, and the young lady slips her six-year-old a Lifesaver and a Magic Marker. A college sophomore, home for vacation, who is there because he was dragged there, slumps forward with his chin in his hand. The vice president of a bank who twice that week has seriously contemplated suicide places his hymnal in the rack. A pregnant girl feels the life stir inside of her. A high-school math teacher, who for twenty years has managed to keep his homosexuality a secret for the most part even from himself, creases his order of service down the center with his thumbnail and tucks it under his knee. (…) The stakes have never been higher. (From: Telling the Truth; The Gospel As Tragedy, Comedy & Fairy Tale by Frederick Buechner).

On Patriotism

Time Magazine ran an article on patriotism. Part of the article included a statement by both political candidates on what they thought patriotism meant. Barack Obama wrote that patriotism was faith in simple dreams that would allow all people to pursue their lives in freedom. McCain wrote that patriotism was more than holding your hand over your heart during the national anthem. Love of country was giving back and being a good citizen.

I am a child of the sixties and can remember when I was very much against the Viet Nam war. It was a very difficult time in the history of our country. I even demonstrated against that war in Golden Gate Park in San Francisco. I was very angry over what happened to our country during that time. Now, many years later, I am walking down the main street of Mamaroneck Avenue seeing that giant flag waving and dominating the street. It is something to behold. When I first saw it 30 years ago I felt I was in a small town in Illinois or Indiana.

Many years ago our church sponsored a refugee family from Laos. The Sayasaks … we found them a place to live, painted their apartment, found them jobs, gave them food, and gave money to start a new live. I remember they bought a car, an old taxi cab with well over 100,000 miles. It was a wreck and what I felt was a bad purchase. One day they stopped at my house to give me a gift and we noticed that the beat up old cab had no oil. It was burning oil and lots of it. I had a few quarts in my garage that I gave them. As I said goodbye to them, I notice a bumper sticker on the back of the car. It said: “I love America” with a big heart on it.

Not long after 9/11 had happened, Kathy and I traveled to the heart of Ground Zero wearing gas masks. The rubble was still smoking – we met firefighters who were friendly and worked for hours. We also visited with workers at St. Paul’s Church, very close to the site, who were passing out food and helping workers take naps on the pews. As we walked back to the site with tears in our eyes, I looked at a dusty old fire truck with a bumper sticker on it that said: “Proud to be an American”.

As I walked in this year’s Memorial Day parade I noticed that big flag over the center of the street. Wow…A big flag for a country with a big heart. It is big enough to say that civil disobedience could be an act of patriotism and to provide a sanctuary for those oppressed and in need.

As Clear As A Spanish Town At Noon… Thoughts on Jo Stafford

She was before my time. I am not sure why I liked her. Maybe because my dad was a Vet during World War II, I am not sure. But I am a fan of many of those World War II tunes, the big band era and the American Song book. For many in my confirmation class who relate to hip hop and Justin Timberlake it is strange music. The music that Jo Stafford sang seemed like it was from a happier time…. She sang many things, some of which were war tunes that seemed to inspire people who suffered from separation from those who went off to defend our country.

Examples of those melodies are "I will never smile again until I smile at you…" or "I will be seeing you in all those old familiar places…" or "Saturday night is the loneliest night of the week…" or the Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy of company B by the Andrew Sisters and others.

If you appreciate the American Song book like I do, you must be saddened by her death, as she is one of the original singers of that historic era.

I first became acquainted with her work through the Pipe Pipers and the Tommy Dorsey Band that Frank Sinatra sang with in the early 40s. I last saw her on a special that honored Frank Sinatra. She came out of retirement to sing a rendition of ”I will never smile again" with the Pipe Pipers. I still have a tape of the old geezers reuniting.

I am a child of the 60s, but the music of Harold Arlen, Sammy Cahn, Jimmy Van Heusen, Johnny Mercer, Cole Porter, George Gershwin, Richard Rogers and Lorenz Hart, Allen J Learner, Irving Berlin and many others from that era and Tin Pan Ally always wrapped themselves around my ears. Their work is always an amazing experience. It could be sung by Judy Garland or Peggy Lee or Ella Fitzgerald and, of course, Jo Stafford

Jo Stafford is well known for her big hit "You belong to me." Jonathan Schwartz said that she sang "directly in the center of the note, and her sound was as clear as a Spanish town at noon."

Angry Atheists

Atheists – “Thou doth protest too much, methinks.” In the past year we have had many books come out on atheism or should I say “Anti God” if could coin such a term. I am not bothered by atheists per se. There are many in the history of the faith and in modern existential thought who have contributed to in a meaningful way to the “God conversation” — Nietzsche, Sartre and Camus to name a few. Christopher Hitchens and Richard Dawkins of late really have only added their misplaced anger. I found the following on a recent blog entry of Andrew Sullivan (http://andrewsullivan.theatlantic.com/the_daily_dish/) in which I find common ground:

But atheism has expelled me. It has expelled me because it has in its heart contempt and loathing and fear of the other. So I reject it. I don't reject all atheists; many atheists are uninterested in ridiculing the religious -- they simply want to be left in peace, and not have religion forced on them or on the law. That, to me, is a principled atheism, and one I am happy to coexist with. But this new atheism, this anti-theism, has only contempt at its heart, and I reject it as thoroughly as it has rejected me.

In the end, there is an atheism that inhabits all meaningful conversations on faith. Doubt is about faith and without it there would not be faith. As a believer who loves this frail and flawed church I can only echo words of a boy’s father in the Gospel of Mark: ”Lord, I believe, help thou my unbelief.” Mark 9:24

A ride through Astoria

I am not often in Queens, a sort of forgotten borough of New York City with the exception of the thousands of people that live in this dense area of the city. On this occasion I was there to preside at a funeral for a family that had lost their father at 86 years. He was a Lutheran and they needed a pastor, so I was there to help them through this difficult passage. He was survived by his three children. They insisted on a graveside service which was fine with me, but it was preceded by a funeral procession which was to pass by familiar places like the family home and church.

So, we were off on our journey through a place teeming with people from all kinds of ethnic backgrounds. As we drove through crowded streets on a Saturday morning I saw grocery stores that were Spanish or Greek. I noticed Italian restaurants, and a Brazilian place that looked good among nail shops and Korean noodle shops. It was an adventure to the eye to be seeing all the different nationalities and languages and people as we processed with poor leadership from the guy in the hearse. Within a few minutes we had lost half of the procession and minutes later two yellow taxi cabs joined our group for a while along with some other unwanted cars. When we crossed intersections impatient people in cars tried to pull in front of us. Next time I hope that guy who was so angry at me will wave at me with 5 fingers instead of just one.

The farther along we continued, the more difficult it got, but not knowing where the cemetery was I was determined to continue, no matter what and not get separated from the lead car. We eventually arrived at the graveside and waited for those lost to find us—which most of them did. All I kept thinking about was the passage: “Let the dead bury the dead”… It would be easier than trying to drive through Queens on a Saturday morning. Life does go on even in the midst of death and in Queens it looks extra busy.

Despite all the complications we arrived at the spot where he was to lay, next to his wife, as his tree children and grandchildren looked on to receive a flag from our country where he served. I did hear the military man say, “He served 4 years overseas, he is the real McCoy, the genuine article a member of the ‘greatest generation’”. His children told me that he was a great dad and husband and even was an usher and Elder at Grace Lutheran Church in Astoria.

Life goes on, no question about that. Sometimes we just need to stop and pay our last respects to a life well lived and one given for others.

Buckminster Fuller and the Choice for Life

On a very humid Sunday afternoon I found myself looking for refuge in a very stark stone structure known as the Whitney Museum. I had heard that there was a Buckminster Fuller exhibition - and, by the way, it is worthwhile seeing. We had an excellent guide who took us through the wondrous world of ideas of Fuller whose work testifies to the power of art, imagination, and genius. However, as you enter the exhibit, on the wall there was a paragraph that brought a chill to me on this hot day that said something like this: After Fuller’s daughter had died, he considered killing himself, but there was an inner voice that seemed to interrupt all of this to tell him he had a greater mission in life. That he could actually do something great for humankind.

Buckminster Fuller realized that he had a choice, just like all of us, with the gift of life that has been given us. Yet we know from statistics that many do not make the same choice he made in a time of crisis. In a recent New York Times Magazine article by Scott Anderson entitled “The Urge to End It All” Anderson tries to make the case that while suicide is an opportunity to end one’s life, it is often a permanent solution to a temporary situation. The article seems to say that when the opportunity to take one’s life is foiled or hindered, second thoughts about living come up and, oftentimes, can change one’s life’s trajectory totally. Buckminster Fuller is a case in point. As I strolled through the exhibit and saw many drawings and models of futuristic dwellings, even a car designed by him, it was also noted that Stanford University holds four tons of his documents. The whole time I kept pondering over and over again in my head his decision to choose life.

For many of us it does not seem like a hard choice. Our fear of death and cowardliness prevents us from even considering the option. Even on a subtler level, not choosing life does not necessarily have to mean snuffing out your existence; it could mean making bad choices that in the end are self-destructive. It seems to me that we make choices every day that can be for life, creativity, and the enhancement of other lives that surround us. We can also make choices that diminish us and are self-destructive. In other words, we are wasting the energy and the moments given to us. The Old Testament offers these words of advice from Deuteronomy 30:19: "I call heaven and earth to witness against you today, that I have set before you life and death, the blessing and the curse. So choose life in order that you may live, you and your descendants.”

So, be a blessing, and life may surprise you.

Nice Guys...

During the weekend of June 15—Father’s Day—I was watching the US Open and I noticed that my favorite golfer, Phil Mickelson, was still in the game. Tiger Woods had still not won, and Phil had just completed a great putt. The commentators later reported that when Phil had completed his putt and was leaving the green, he passed by a young boy on the shoulders of his father and he handed him the golf ball. The boy was elated. The commentators remarked that that was vintage Mickelson. At that point another commentator said in a rather critical way that Mickelson has “this problem of always wanting to be liked”. Right away, I was annoyed. What is wrong with doing something nice? Does there always have to be a selfish motive behind every good deed? Does a simple gesture like handing a golf ball to a boy have to have an ulterior motive?

One of the problems in our new world is that people are suspicious of everything, even good deeds. There must be something sinister behind every action. Why can’t we be nice, or kind, or good for its own sake? Jesus once said that you should love your enemies because loving your friends is something everyone can do. Put another way, doing good things for others and even caring for those who do not deserve it is what we are supposed to do.

I once saw a cartoon in the New Yorker that had a picture of a man smiling as he looked at another man and said, “I am a nice guy. Who finished first?” The world, of course, feels differently, captured in the old saying, “Nice guys finish last.” I am still thinking about another nice guy who is no longer with us -Tim Russert. Most of us did not realize how nice he was because we assume that to arrive at the top of your game or the “top of the heap”, you usually have to do some mean and selfish things, and even step on a few people. I do not want to canonize Tim Russert into sainthood. He is a sinner like the rest of us. Nevertheless, it is no secret that he loved his family, idolized his father, was extremely close to his son, was a huge fan of the Buffalo Bills and a devout Catholic whose faith meant something to him. It was part of his lifestyle and practice, and, dare we say, part of his being. He was definitely a nice guy who finished first.

“I Am as Corny as Kansas in August”

I am sure that Kansas is corny in August as stalks rise up to the sky. However, as fate would have it, I was there only a couple of weeks ago when the corn was just sprouting from the ground. I had never been to Kansas before even though I lived in Illinois and went to college in Indiana, and as I walked through the airport reading advertisements, I discovered to my surprise that it has produced a lot of famous people. As I looked at the walls, I saw names like Amelia Earhart, Dennis Hopper, William Ing, Bob Dole, Buster Keaton, Stan Kenton, Harold Lloyd, Zasu Pitts, John Cameron Swayze, and many others. They all reminded me that the ground I was standing on was significant.

And here I was – arriving to preside over the wedding of Kris and Ellen Roggemann ( http://www.krisandellen.com/home.asp ), a young couple that I am very fond of and one of whom I baptized and confirmed.

I usually do not like it when people write their wedding vows. They usually sound as corny as Kansas in August… However, Kris and Ellen insisted on writing their own and they did a wonderful job. They wrote:

I, Kris/Ellen, take you, Ellen/Kris, to be my wife/husband, to share the good times and the hard times side by side.

I humbly give you my hand and my heart as I pledge my faith and love to you.

I promise to encourage and inspire you, to support you in your goals, to laugh with you, to comfort you in times of sorrow, and to work by your side in creating a wonderful life together.

And during the exchange of rings:

I give you this ring as a symbol of my love.

As I place it on your finger, I commit my heart and soul to you.

Let it be a reminder that I am always by your side and that I will always be faithful to you.

Upon my return to New York I learnt that Charlie Sheen and Brooke Mueller tied the knot the day before Kris and Ellen. They, too, wrote their own vows. Brooke reportedly said that she would cook more meals outside of the microwave and keep piles of debris on her side of the bed below the two foot mark and clean her closet at least once a decade. Sheen reportedly promised to organize less and listen more, quit breaking a hug too soon and mute the ball game when Brooke says, “This is a matter of life and death”. Sheen mentioned that traditional wedding vows are “so outdated” that there appears to be no difference from what is said at a wedding or at a funeral, except the casket. So, they ended their vows by saying “This and that, such and such, yada, yada, yada, bla, bla, bla.”

I suppose there is no need for me to comment on their wedding vows. They speak for themselves and for the lack of seriousness about their relationship. Perhaps that’s why all of Charlie Sheen’s relationships have ended up in a casket. Call me corny, but vows need to be taken seriously even if they are not lived up to as well as we would like it. In all relationships we need to set the bar high.

Review of the Play “Thurgood” with Theological Implications

I had the privilege of going to see the one-man play “Thurgood” starring Laurence Fishburne and written by George Stevens Jr. I had admired George Steven Jr. biographical film of his father entitled: “George Stevens, Film Maker’s Journey”. George Stevens (Sr.) films are favorites of mine; however, I had my doubts about his son as a writer because children do not always live up to the fame of their parents, i.e., Frank Sinatra Jr. So, I came to the play with some doubts about how good it could be. “Oh, me of little faith”. I was wrong, and for ninety minutes I was mesmerized by Fishburne’s portrayal of this giant of civil rights history. Anyone who is a lawyer ought to see this play because you would find it not only inspiring, but a renewing experience.

The play moves through the history of Thurgood Marshall who was on the Supreme Court for over twenty years. It has lots of humor, psychological depth, and is dramatically portrayed with such ease that you forget you are watching Laurence Fishburne and think you are actually seeing Thurgood Marshall. It is a miracle to be able to talk for ninety minutes and make it interesting and moving. He wrung out all the emotions in me, from anger to laughter to tears.

What I found to be important about this play was that it approached the civil rights issue and the racial divide in our country from a different perspective. Usually we think of inequality, racism and, linked with that, civil disobedience. For example, just recently here in New York, if you looked to find Al Sharpton he would generally be leading a media circus in an attempt to remove Don Imus from the radio (regardless of any apology) or leading a demonstration against a court decision. “Thurgood”, the play, talks about an individual who is dedicated and committed with a firm faith in the law of this land. He was dedicated to using the law as a way to bring justice to this country, and while justice may come slowly, when it does come, it is victorious.

This play brings out how little America knows about Thurgood Marshall and his early career as a civil rights lawyer who argued Brown vs. the Board of Education in 1954. It talks of racism in the military, with people like Gen. Douglas MacArthur denying it and defending the all-white military band. Marshall points out in a humorous line, “Don’t tell me you can’t find a Negro who can blow a horn”. You also get an interesting look at President Lyndon B. Johnson, who appointed Marshall to the Supreme Court, as the gifted politician who was able to convince enough senators, one by one, to confirm Marshall.

In the end, this is a history lesson that jogged my mind in a new direction, giving me not only a great admiration for Thurgood Marshall, but an immense appreciation for the law of our country. It also pushed me to think about documents and precepts that one’s own life could be dedicated towards from a faith perspective. For example, Marshall ended up not only using the law but loving the law. Perhaps what may be missing in our life and lifestyle as Christians is a deeper appreciation for scripture and even for such things as the Ten Commandments or the creeds of our Church. In most cases there is in ignorance that hovers like a cloud over many in our congregation who rarely open the Bible or even know what is foundational to our faith. For Marshall the law was not a dusty volume of torts on the wall – and wouldn’t it be great if the Bible were opened by us with a searching, questioning and appreciative mind?

During the play Marshall, arguing the law, says in exasperation, “I am sick of saving the white man’s soul.” All of our souls could use a little saving. Marshall found salvation in the law. Those of us of faith perhaps need to look to the good news found in our Bibles.

Pastor Disaster

One of the advantages of living in New York is being able to get an instant smile on your face when you see the front page of the New York Post. There is always some outrageous thing in print that stares back at you at the news stand. One such morning I saw the phrase “Pastor Disaster” and, of course, I had a sigh of relief when I found out it wasn’t me. I am sure it’s every pastor’s nightmare to find him- or herself on the front page of the Post with that label. In this case it was Barack Obama’s pastor Reverend Wright’s turn. Following the rather courageous speech of Obama who tried to put Rev. Wright in perspective, Rev. Wright came before the American press and threw Obama under the bus. Rev. Wright spoke about himself over and over again, ad nauseum. Yes, he was a disaster, and it is unfortunate that Obama was associated with him.

To be fair to Rev. Wright, I am sure he is a good pastor to his people. He has done a lot for people in this church. The place has grown under his leadership. He brought Obama in to the church and married him and his wife and baptized his children. His church has helped the poor directly and he has, I am sure, been very effective. At one time or another, if you are a good pastor, you feel like a disaster, or you feel that you have made a mess of things. All of us card-carrying reverends find ourselves in this situation at least once in our career. Usually, what leads to becoming a “Pastor Disaster” is when the pastor has too much ego infused into the situation. Being a minister is not about “me” and my troubles and my needs and my desire for attention, it is usually about trying to be a caring, non-anxious presence for someone who needs help. Ministry isn’t me first, it is trying to park your ego at the door and go into situations putting others first. I am not saying that I am always successful, but I do know that a pastor can make a mess out of things very quickly, when our narcissistic self rears its ugly head.

That is precisely the pitfall that took out Rev. Wright and labeled him as “Pastor Disaster”. Of course, he has made outrageous statements on the topics of race, AIDS, associations with Farrakhan, and a few inappropriate sermons that were filled with misdirected anger. Believe it or not, that stuff, while it is nothing I agree with, does not upset me as much as a minister getting up to talk about himself at the expense of a family that belongs to his church and one of whose members, by the way, is running for president. While I have not made up my mind about for whom I am going to vote, I have to agree with Bob Herbert of the New York Times who said that for the first time in American history a black man has a serious chance of being president and his pastor really cared more about himself when he got up onto the national stage to address his audience.

Jesus puts it this way as he addresses his disciples for the last time and insists on washing their feet: “I am among you as one who serves.”

Let that be a lesson to all pastors who could be heading for disaster.

Reaching Outside Our Jurisdiction

Many years ago, when I was interning at Grace Lutheran Church in Santa Barbara, CA, I did a ministry project in which I wanted to organize an interfaith worship service to pray for peace. This was during the Vietnam War. The project threw me out of the church doors into community coalitions, action groups, and other churches. I remember being at our first meeting and talking to the various leaders in our community about this idea. They were very surprised to find a religious leader in their midst, and when I suggested a service of prayer for peace inviting the entire community of Santa Barbara (which later turned out to have 1,500 people in attendance), they were a little taken aback. One person said to me: ”Can’t we do something instead of just pray?” It became a question that has rung in my ears ever since.

If you are like me, you do not want to sit around and talk about things—you want to make them happen. So, when he said in effect that prayer, while OK, was not doing something, it caused me to pause and rethink what I really thought about the importance of prayer and even worship.

Was he saying that worship and prayer and meditation and singing hymns just added up to a waste of time? Could we be doing better things with our time? How effective are such “activities” when we could be reading the New York Times, going to the gym and getting our workout done, or just doing our bills? Lots of people find worship to be inconvenient. It even seems like a passive activity. If worship goes over an hour, one might even hear a negative comment or two.

What is worship anyway? Is it an hour of torture? Is it a place where we write out our shopping list as the sermon is being spoken? Is it a place where our mind wanders into the great and deep recesses of our imagination? Or is it a place where we gather with fellow believers to
acknowledge that we are creatures who are worshipping our creator?

I am sure in terms of time management we could get a lot done during that Sunday morning, and many people do. On the other hand, maybe we have the wrong perspective on what it all means. I recall watching a film about a group of young people going through the wilderness area of Nepal where they came across a group of Hindus praying devoutly with their prayer wheels spinning. They were surprised by such piety and even inspired as they watched such devotion taking place. One of them wanted to go back and take yoga meditation, others looked on curiously and found it as an invitation to rethink their own spirituality.

Kurt Vonnegut tells a story of visiting John Updike and his wife and waking up Sunday morning to an empty house, wondering where everybody went. A while later, the Updikes returned, from church. He was surprised, but should not have been; John Updike has been going to church his whole life. He says that it is the only place where he can sing hymns and on certain, surprising, occasions find inspiration.

Today there is a lot of talk about spirituality; almost as if it is in opposition to being religious. In fact, I remember someone saying, “I am not religious, but I am spiritual.” Unfortunately, today the word spiritual has become a very fuzzy term with a variety of definitions. It can mean anything from getting a massage to traveling around the world to have an audience with the Maharishi, like the Beatles. I, a secular person who has chosen a highly spiritual path, am always challenged by spirituality. All of life can be interpreted spiritually and needs to be, so that we can discover its deep and profound meaning and enjoy the gift of life that we have been given. I always remember that quote from the Little Prince: The most important things are invisible.

To me, being spiritual requires something else. It means taking time and, in many ways, being disciplined. It is not about rushing or trying even to complete something; it is about a journey that invites you into a world within a world. To me, that is what worship, prayer, meditation are about. As the Roman Catholic priest and paleontologist Teilhard de Chardin once said: “True action must pass through the world of holiness.” Christians gather each week to feed their souls, to strengthen their spirits, to offer creation back to God by acknowledging the spiritual presence of the Creator in their life. The people of God gather for strength and find it confirmed when they stand shoulder to shoulder with each other, when they kneel at the same table for bread and wine, when they close their eyes, sometimes filled with tears, in prayer for others.

So - amid the noisy children, the sermon that makes your mind wander from place to place sometimes, the music that may at moments be less than rousing, something beyond all this may take place. Put differently, even though our efforts to relate to our Creator are mostly frail and imperfect, something happens in spite of us—we may gain deep insight, find ourselves connected in a more powerful way to what we must be doing in this world with love, compassion, and empathy. We may discover a way to forgive ourselves for things that have burdened us for months or even years. We may be given the wisdom we need to handle the challenges and obstacles that we face that week. We may even grow to understand that we have a relationship with this mystery we call God in a far deeper way than we first imagined.

I am in the process of reading Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. This is a popular book in the area of spirituality that has gained some attention. She writes this: “ ‘[…] Experience teaches us that the world is no nursery school.’ I agree—the world isn’t a nursery school but the very fact that this world is so challenging is exactly why we must reach out of its jurisdiction for help, appealing to a higher authority in order to find your comfort.”

The experience on Sunday morning is just that—reaching outside of our jurisdiction for help.