Tuesday, January 26, 2010

To re or not to re

During the Christmas holidays I was sitting with my son-in-law in his den. We were watching one of the zillion Bowl games during that week on his big screen TV. (Since Thou Shalt Not Covet is the tenth of the Big Ten, I'll not say what I thought about his big TV.) As we watched the game, suddenly, across the bottom of the big screen came the news that Urban Meyer, Florida's football coach, was resigning. My son-in-law, even though he was under the weather, began shouting: "Oh, no! Oh, no! That can't be! That's just wrong! He can't do that!" My son-in-law is really into college football, especially the SEC. (Of course his Alabama Crimson Tide had beaten Florida and went on to be the National Champions.) The rationale behind Jim's yelling was solid. Why would the most successful college football coach in the country just up and resign? Could there be scandal in the air? Hmmm.

Well, we found out that it had to do with a health problem. Then, not long after that, we found out that he wasn't going to resign after all, but merely take a leave of absence.

Coaches don't just resign for no reason. Coaches are born to coach. A good coach can't stop coaching. He (or she) will not retire.

John Feinstein, writing in Sporting News (1/18/2010), tells about basketball coach Gary Williams. He has been a coach since graduating from college in 1968. When he won the 2002 National Championship at Maryland, his daughter Kristin suggested that he could finally relax. But he couldn't. In 2006 when his team's season ended with a loss in the NIT, Williams drove to his beach house in Delaware to 'get away from it all' for awhile. Next day a friend called and asked how he was doing. "Well," he said, "I just figured I'd take it easy for a few days." "Good idea," the friend said. "Walk on the beach alone by yourself, read a book, play some golf." There was a pause on the other end of the phone. Then Williams said, "You know, there are only so many times you can walk on the damn beach."

I've been retired now for 26 days... So far, retirement is like an extended vacation. I've never had more than two weeks in a row for vacation during my pastoral ministry days. I know I took three Sundays in a row once or twice. So, I'm feeling like I'm finally getting a good vacation. What it will be like after two or three or four months, I don't know. I'm taking it easy. Pat and I are doing some packing. I've started on my taxes. I'm working on a couple of books. I'm sleeping late and not feeling guilty about it. I'm staying up late if I want to. I feel no pressure. I am having no trouble not being a  pastor.

Some pastors can't give up pastoring. I don't seem to have that problem. If I had a beach, I'd walk on it every damn day.

Necessary

Being retired, I've started reading the paper more regularly.
One day I even read the 'Vital Statistics' section.
I noticed that twins--a boy and a girl--were born to Jennifer and Terry Necessary.
So, now there are two more babies that are Necessary.

I had never heard the last name Necessary before.
Isn't that a wonderful name?
Don't all of us want to be Necessary?

I looked in the phone book, and sure enough, there are
several families in our area named Necessary.
I looked up the name Unnecessary, but there weren't any.
In philosophy, the opposite of necessary is contingent.
So, I looked up Contingent in the phone book; couldn't find anyone
named Contingent.

As a believer in the Biblical God,
I believe everyone of us is necessary.
We are not here for nothing.
Each one of us is here because we are needed.
Without me or without you, the world would be
without something necessary.
Our lives count.
We are here on purpose.

In a sense we are all named Mr. Mrs./Ms. Necessary.
And we are all 'twins.'
We have our feminine side and our masculine side.
Both sides are necessary.

I hope Jennifer and Terry Necessary's twins grow up
knowing the significance of their name.

Sunday, January 24, 2010

Revolutionary Road

I recently watched on DVD the movie "Revolutionary Road" starring Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet. I thought it would be a light romantic flick. Au contraire! A very intense drama. A young couple become bored with their lives. The husband works in an office where his deceased father worked. The wife had dreams of being an actress, but didn't have the talent. She stays at home with the two small children. They have a wild idea: They will take off to Paris! He will quit his job; they will live on savings; and while she works, he will have time to find his true calling.

They are excited. Their desire is to 'feel alive' again. The people at the office think he is crazy. Their neighbors can't believe it. But one neighbor, who has just come out of the 'insane asylum,' understands. In fact he seems to be the only one in the story who understands reality. An ironic theme runs through the movie concerning what it means to be 'sane.' Who are the sane people in this story? Who are the crazy people? It reminds me of Paul's statement about 'being fools for Christ's sake.' In this movie the crazy/foolish man is the only wise one.

The story becomes complicated when the couple discover that the wife is pregnant. A crisis ensues. And there are extramarital affairs by husband and wife. They speak of their lives as empty and hopeless. There must be some symbolism in the fact that on more than one occasion someone goes 'into the woods' to reflect or ponder or make decisions. As Dante begins The Divine Tragedy he writes, "I came to my senses in a dark forest." Could it be that in our 'dark' crises we are able to come to the light?

The husband and wife have intense arguments; outbursts of rage. The actors are great at what they do. The story seems to swirl into more and more intensity--to the breaking point. Then, strangely, everything becomes quiet...and 'normal.' Or so it appears. Then comes the ultimate crisis.

Themes: emptiness/fulfillment; meaningful work; one's vocation/calling in life; relationships; aliveness/deadness; conformity/nonconformity; maturity, sanity, integrity, wholeness; honesty, reality, roles, happiness.

This movie has a 'death-of-the-salesman' feel to it. It raises the question of what life is all about, and what gives it meaning. There was no religious or spiritual dimension to the couple's relationship. There was no sense of being part of authentic community (only an occasional get together with some neighbors). There was no extended family to give support. This wife and husband lived in a vacuum. They dreamed of going somewhere else to find happiness and fulfillment; but they were really trying to run away from themselves and escape their loneliness.

It's good to watch movies like this occasionally. They make us stop and think about ourselves. Where do we find our fulfillment? Are we just pretending, or are we really as happy as we put on? What part does God play in our daily living? Whose dream are we following? How do we connect with other people? Is parenting a meaningful part of our lives? What place do children have in our existence? Is our occupation and our vocation the same?

Revolutionary Road. A revolution is a 'turning.' They went down a certain road. Their lives took a turn for the worse. Which leaves you and me with the questions: What does my life revolve around? What is at the center?

This movie says to me  that life that is not centered in a divine purpose is empty and hopeless.

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

de-filed

Yesterday I had a difficult task. I took boxes full of files from my work
and went through them--deciding which ones to throw away and
which ones to keep.

Those boxes of files represent much of my work as a pastor
over the last 40 years.
There were boxes and boxes of sermons.
Folders of items I've clipped out of newspapers,
magazines, newsletters, and other sources.
There were folders of pages I have copied
or ripped out of books.
(I only rip pages out of books I own.)
There were boxes full of files about baptisms
and confirmations and communions.

I went through files of articles I've written over the years.
I looked through file upon file containing materials I have
written or borrowed dealing with Bible studies,
church history, Appreciative Inquiry, Rational Emotive Therapy,
the writings of Paul, the book of Revelation, Islam,
Feminism, Homosexuality, prayer, meditation, systems theory,
principles of interim ministry, etc.

And there were records of sermons preached, people visited,
contracts signed, meetings attended.
And many files on worship--files for each liturgical season,
files for litanies, sacraments, special worship services,
files for weddings and funerals.

Somehow I saw these boxes of files as my life passing before my eyes.
Each file represents study and work and performance.

Probably the most important of the dozens and dozens of files
are the two or three that contain the record of my pastoral visits
and weddings and funerals.
Those are the files that indicate people I have touched through my ministry.
I hold those files in my hand and I can feel the hands of the hundreds of people
I have prayed with and for...the hundreds of people that I have taken by the hand
and supported during crises.
That's what it's all about.

It was hard, but it had to be done.
I threw away box loads.
I kept some for possible pastoral work in the future.
Of course you know that the one file you throw away,
thinking, "I'll never use this again," is the very one you will need.

Letting go is hard.
Letting go of 'stuff' that represents your work
is particularly hard.
But isn't life a series one 'letting go' after another?

When we read the gospels with this in mind,
we see Jesus at every turn asking people to let go of something.
It may not be a material thing; it may be letting go of pride or fear.

The open hand, the open heart--following Jesus.

Now I have fewer files; and they are reboxed to move.
Some day I'll open them up and say: I didn't need them after all.
And I'll throw all of them away.

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Christ in Birmingham

We are going to be moving to Birmingham as soon as we sell our house, so the following news report gave me pause…

Court officials in Jefferson County, Alabama (Birmingham) were skeptical at first when they encountered a potential juror who said her name was "Jesus Christ." But the 59-year-old woman, who had her name changed in probate court, assured the presiding judge that was her name. Christ was called to jury duty for a criminal case but was excused because she was disruptive. Instead of answering questions, Christ was asking them. [Religious New Service]

If you're an avid Bible reader, that will sound familiar. Jesus often took people by surprise by asking them questions. "Who do you say that I am?" he asked his disciples. "Whose image is on this coin?" he asked the authorities when they tried to trap him with a question about paying taxes. "Where is the man?" he asked the authorities who brought a woman caught in adultery.

Maybe Jesus sees the bumper sticker that says, "Jesus is the Answer," and yells out in disgust, "No, I'm not the Answer, I'm the Question." We all want answers. And we especially want The Answer. But the modus operandi of Jesus is to pull the rug out from under us with questions of his own put to us. The parables of Jesus function that way. He tells a story, one that leaves you hanging or surprises the heck out of you. He is teasing you into reconsidering what you thought you knew for sure. He is interrogating our souls.

So, the next time you have a little talk with Jesus, don't interrupt him—listen to his questions. He wants us to be The Answers to the world's cries.

Meanwhile, as Pat and I get ready to move to Birmingham, I'll have to look up Jesus Christ when I get there and see what question she has for me.


 

Football's home run

Some time back I was listening to an interview on NPR.
They were talking about football--some consideration of rule changes.
I can't remember if it had to do with salary caps or concussions or recruiting procedures or what.
Nevertheless, it was definitely about football.
At one point the interviewee said he had confidence in those who were debating the issue, and that he was sure they would 'step up to the plate' and do the right thing.


Neither the interviewer nor the interviewee seemed to notice
that a baseball metaphor had intruded into the football discussion.
If football officials can 'step up to the plate' and do the right thing,
then I suppose baseball officials can 'put it through the uprights.'
And golf officials can serve an ace, while tennis officials can make a hole in one.


Isn't life confusing enough without mixing sports metaphors like a chef mixes muffin batter? I think we should stop mixing things up. William F. Buckley confused me when he was for decriminalizing drugs. And Sarah Palin confuses me when she pretends to know about foreign policy. The Ku Klux Klan confuses me when they burn the symbol of love. And Rush Limbaugh confuses me when he says he is against falsehood. 


Life is complex. But there is no reason to make it more complex than it needs to be. When the NFL steps up to the plate, it makes me think that the Republican Party really cares about the health care of the people of America, or that Senator Mitch McConnell wants to be bipartisan.   


Now, maybe it's a good thing if the NFL steps up to the plate. And maybe it's a good thing that I get mixed up. Some people think I'm mixed up all the time anyway. And maybe I am. But if I'm mixed up, I don't want to be confused about it. Mixing metaphors is strike three when you're on the one yard line right by a sand trap in the second set of the Derby. Okay. Enough. Enough! My head is spinning....like a Dreidel in Hitler's grave.


##



Bones in the church

The Christian Century reports that there is a Catholic church in a small Rwandan village where around 5000 people were killed in the 1994 mass murders. The church has been turned into a memorial to the dead. Hanging from the rafters and walls are the tattered, blood-stained clothes of the victims. Bones, including multiple rows of skulls, are displayed on the shelves, as well as victims' possessions. Above the skulls a sign reads: "If you knew me, and you knew yourself, you would not kill me." [CT, January 12, 2010; originally from American Scholar]

How much violence and hatred would disappear if we really knew ourselves and really knew each other? Self knowledge is so important. Most violence is expressed by people who don't like themselves. Their self-hatred comes from a lack of knowledge of themselves; that is, they don't really know who they are. If they only knew that each of us is a 'loved one,' if they saw themselves through the eyes of Jesus, they would know themselves as precious children of God.

We take out our self-loathing on others. What each of us needs is to hear the Good News. God says to each of us: "You are loved. I love you. You are special. You are precious. And so is everyone else. Share my love."

If you knew me, and you knew yourself, you would not kill me.

When we stop hating who we are and stop defending who we are, we can start being vulnerable and generous with ourselves. We love God because God first loved us. We love others because we first love ourselves. When we open ourselves to the grace of God, we become more loving toward others.

Most of the world's problems could be solved if we looked within and saw the precious jewel there.

12 Minutes

I think this is an amazing fact. Professional NFL football games last an average of 3 hours and 6 minutes. But the actual time the ball is in play—from the time the ball is snapped to the time the whistle blows the play dead—is only 12 minutes and 8 seconds! (According to a study by Wired.) Then why do those linemen and receivers get so darn tired? They only play 12 minutes! The rest of the time is just spent standing around or sitting on the bench or walking/trotting on and off the field.


Let's stop and think about it. During the actual 12 minutes of play, linemen are pushing and shoving with all their might. Receivers and defenders are doing some pushing and shoving, but mostly sprinting and jumping. Ball carriers are running and dodging and being pummeled to the ground. Defenders are also grapping and pulling big men down to the ground.


For three hours the game goes on, but only for twelve minutes do the players give their all. It sounds like it should be easy. But it is an exhausting sport—even for men who are in top notch shape. It is combat. It takes everything out of you.


It's something like what you see when you go to the symphony concert. Watch the trumpet players. The music may go on for two and a half hours. But much of that time the trumpeters are sitting with their trumpets on their knees, just watching the music. Occasionally they will raise their trumpets and play a few seconds, then put them back on their knees. The trumpeters always get excited when a piece comes along that has a lot of notes for the brass parts. They may not play much on a certain piece, but when they do play, their part is important.


Our lives have periods of intensity and periods of restfulness. A young mother finds herself in the 12 minutes of life when she is exhausted and thinks she can't go on. A retired person may find himself in the other 54 minutes on the bench and wonder if he will ever get in the game again.


Each of us has to train ourselves to be ready for the 12 minutes. There are times in life that seem longer than they really are. For most of us, the pain we experience in life is a small percentage of our total experience. If we imagine that life's pains are bigger or lengthier than they are, we lose perspective and begin to obsess about pain. But if we step back and see that the pain is only 12 minutes out of the whole game, it becomes more manageable.


No doubt about it—NFL players play their hearts out in those 12 minutes. And when they are through, they know they have given a whole day's work in those few minutes.


There is a time to go all-out. There is a time to rest. There is a time to be in training. What time is it for you?