...all the time in the world"

"Do everything as if you have all the time in the world." That's a quote from my cardiologist after my mini-stroke last April. And I have tried my very best to adhere to his advice, although at times I confess I get swept along with the pseudo-urgent demands of our world (but luckily not very often). 

At lunch with a group of my clergy colleagues many years ago, we were discussing stress versus being relaxed and at ease, and I said that I had just taken up a regular practice of meditation. They told me that if I got any more at ease than I already appeared to be, they would have to start carrying me into meetings.

It's true that in general I am a pretty lay-back person and my doctor's advice hasn't been that hard to follow. I suppose it has something to do with my metabolism, but also in a large part to do with my view of life. 

No one can help but notice the extremely tense people in the stress-laden world in which we live. Amount of wealth or poverty has nothing to do with it--although I suspect that those who have a lot of money are always on edge for fearing of losing it. And those, of course, who live in poverty fear not having enough to meet the day's needs.  Life is just as important on all levels of the socio-economic mix.

Stress often manifests itself as anger, irritability, impatience, loss of sleep, floor-pacing anxiety and even manic eating, among other things.

The thing is, I believe that we have some control over our emotional states (I say that, preaching to myself as much as to anyone). However I also believe that our control gets overshadowed by how we go about evaluating our lives. St. Paul said, "by the grace given to me I say to everyone among you not to think of yourself more highly than you ought to think, but to think with sober judgment, each according to the measure of faith that God has assigned."

I suppose that, in part at least, Paul was saying your life is in God's hands. Don't get carried away with all the details and circumstances that seem so very important in light of the world's standards..."each according to the measure of faith that God has assigned." Then he might quote Jesus from the 14th Chapter of John when he says, "My peace I give to you ; yet not as the world gives." 

By the way, this has come from just being in traffic with some very tense people, after being in a grocery store with some very tense people. 

Peace to you, my friends. 

The Way It Goes

It's Monday. Take the garbage down to the road. Check on the chickens. Make sure they have food and that their water isn't frozen. One hen is still in the nesting box. Too soon to collect the eggs. Then there's our old girl, Henrietta, who has her own apartment in the garage. You might say a poultry geriatric center--a retirement home for chickens that no longer lay eggs but are the to-be-respected older citizens of the hen world. 

It's Monday. Time to begin thinking and reading for next Sunday's sermon. Interesting fact: Last week I wrote out a sermon for yesterday's worship service--something I don't usually do, but when I went to print it out before leaving for church, my computer wouldn't boot up. Okay, I think I get the message. There's something else I need to say instead of the carefully carved-out manuscript, with its precise punctuation and phrasing. i.e.-Listen to the heart and soul of it, not the brain.

It's Monday. Time to make a list of things I need to do this week. Get my car serviced. Get a haircut. Do some laundry. Go to the grocery store. Oh yes, this is my birthday week. Wednesday to be exact. Notice I'm not ashamed to admit I'm turning a year older (71 in case you're wondering). In fact, I celebrate it. Worrying about your age is really silly stuff--yet another thing that society has created to make us be embarrassed about who we are. Society does that about a lot of things, but I won't go into to that at the moment.

We had a wonderful dinner on Saturday night with some of our kids and their significant others!  What fun they are! I'm sorry for those who couldn't be there, but we'll catch up with them later--they're not left out. Thanks, Chris, for arranging that. 

It's Monday of my birthday week and I want everyone to know that my main emotion is gratitude. I'm thankful for all the life experiences I've had that have taught me important life lessons; I'm thankful for my wife for her loving support, her wonderful spirit, her companionship and her acceptance of who I am; I'm thankful for all our kids who continue to both surprise us and fill our lives with great joy; I'm thankful for my whole family, near and far away, for all the years we've spent together, laughing and crying and feasting and playing; I'm thankful for where we live--a beautiful home in the country; I'm thankful that I am able to continue my life's calling in the ministry with a wonderful church with wonderful people in Florence, NJ; I'm thankful for all the friends I have and have had throughout the years of my life; and finally, but certainly not least of all, I'm thankful to God, who in subtle and mysterious ways continues to be the light on my path, my strength in difficult times, and who has blessed me in hundreds of ways that I cannot even begin to list,and many of which I am totally unaware.

The Parable of Krispy Kreme Donuts

The following is an excerpt from the sermon I gave yesterday:

     Last week Chris and I attended a Saturday Night Mass at the Church of St. Charles Borromeo for the baptism of a baby on Chris’s side of the family.

The priest gave a wonderful homily in which he told the true story of a man named Chris Rosati. So I couldn't resist doing some research on the story to see what else I could find out about him.

     Chris Rosati is a 42 year old man with ALS, also known as Lou Gehrig’s Disease. It’s estimated that he has about a year to live including the time that his health will be gradually deteriorating throughout that year. He lives with his wife and two children in North Carolina and is a marketing vice president, and for all intents and purposes is in the prime of his life.

     Now the ordinary point of view I suppose would be to spend that year getting ready to die, whatever that means. And I have to confess that that would probably be the way I personally would look at it. I’d be thinking to myself, “Well, I might as well resign myself to my fate and just make the most of the time I have left…spend time doing the things I like to do most for as long as I can…prepare myself for the inevitable long days of discomfort ahead.”

     And you know what? Nobody could fault anybody for that! Under the ordinary, quite reasonable outlook on life, that would be more than understandable. A person who would take that approach would not be guilty of anything to be ashamed of or should have to answer to anyone for that.    That, however, is not what Chris Rosati has chosen. Oh yes, he knows his undeniable fate—he’s not deluding himself.

     When he found out that he had ALS, he applied online for a job with Krispy Kreme Donuts that he knew he wouldn’t get. But what he had in mind was a kind of Robin Hood thing. His fantasy was that he would steal one of their delivery trucks in a rampage of, as someone put it: stealing cholesterol from the rich and giving it to the poor.

     Of course all of this was thought of with a sense of humor. The Plan: He would follow a Krispy Kreme delivery man around and take his truck when he wasn’t looking and take to the road giving away donuts to everyone he met. 

     When Krispy Kreme heard about it on Facebook, they didn’t threaten to prosecute him. Instead they gave him a bus full of donuts and so, for an entire day, Chris, his family and friends took to the road, joyfully delivering donuts to city parks, cancer wards and children’s hospitals. “We’re glad to make some people smile,” he said.

     In these supposed final days and months of his life, he said that it has made him incredibly sensitive to the important sights and sounds all around him. For instance, nothing in the world thrills him more than the pitter-patter sound of his childrens' feet coming down the hallway. 

The main point of the sermon was that, in the ordinariness of life, we tend to overlook the fact that there dwells inside everyone of us an extraordinary spirit. It is the source of true passion, goodness, appreciation and purpose. We just don't always realize that it's there. Yet it's one and the same spirit that has been awakened within Chris Rosati. Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could have it awakened within us without the need for some dramatically painful circumstances?

[Sources include: Msgr. Gregory E. S. Malovetz and CBS Evening News]

FROM MY MEMOIRS, Part 2

Tomorrow is the kick-off for a celebration of the 175th year of the Florence United Methodist Church. I was appointed there by the bishop in July, 2009 when I retired from full-time ministry. We have plans for a whole year of celebrating the history, the present, and the future of the church.

I don't know if I was just what the Florence church needed, but they have been what I have needed to keep on keepin' on with what I know and love best. They are supportive, loving people, who have tolerated the limitations of having a part-time, semi-retired pastor. 

My sermons will never go down in the annals of preaching and, in years to come when I have departed this earth, I suspect that those who have been in my congregations through the years will have memories of me that are far better than the reality of who I actually was.

But somehow, regardless of any inadequacies, I think that I was meant to be a minister. I remember one day in particular in my home church in Medford, New Jersey, I was standing alone in what was called the "Jr. Room." I was probably 15 years old and very active in the Methodist Youth Fellowship. The sun was brightly illuminating the yellow frosted glass of the windows, giving the room a warm, almost holy aura.  And there was that wonderful scent of aged wood floors and walls. 

I stood there, captivated by the moment, thinking about how much I loved that old building. I was baptized there as an infant (although I can't say that I remember that) and I was confirmed there (which I do remember).  On Sunday mornings I would show up early for church and help old At Wells fold the bulletins as he taught me for the worship service. I took great pride in making sure that I did it as neatly as possible, very carefully lining up the edges before making that important sharp crease down the middle. 

Anyway, here I am now, many years later, grateful to still be at it, even if on a part-time basis. Perhaps as I'm getting older and realizing that I have been greatly blessed in so many ways, the celebration of the Florence United Methodist Church's 175th anniversary is also a personal celebration for me. Counting my years as a youth minister (officially, Director of Christian Education) at the St. Andrew's United Methodist Church in Cherry Hill, this is my 40th year at my career. Maybe someday I'll learn to get it right or as I am fond of saying when I am asked to preach in other churches, "I've always wanted to preach the perfect sermon--but this isn't it."

But, my friends, whoever we are and whatever it is that we do, I'm convinced that, as Bette Midler sang, "God is watching us, God is watching us; God is watching us from a distance."

[A more complete version of this segment of my memoirs is available upon request, but don't feel obligated.]

WINTER MIX

"These are the times that try men's souls" (and women's too). That's what Thomas Paine wrote in his essay The American Crisis. Of course he was referring to the period of the American Revolution, but those words came to me as I put my head down on the pillow last night before drifting off to sleep. 

I was thinking about the long, hard stretch of winter and the way that it has effected so many people in so many ways. Inconvenience not withstanding, it has had a deeper impact on the inner world of our spirits. I know for me, I can't wait to be able to get back to some serious walking and hiking in some balmier temperatures. I long for days having my morning coffee in the adirondack chairs in the yard. I am dreaming about being at the beach at Island Beach State Park. I am looking forward to once again dropping my line in the water and still not catching any trout, but at least pretending to be some kind of sportsman (although I could never be a true sportsman like those who just catch fish and throw them back--which simply seems to be for no other purpose than inconveniencing some poor fish that was on its way to someplace else).

Truth is that the weather will do whatever it darn well pleases, and it doesn't care who we are or how important we think we are. There are no exceptions to the rule no matter how rich or poor we are; no matter how much we feel like "it's just not fair."  Forget about it! 

So the choices are simple i guess: (1)Get all bent out of shape and miserable like a spoiled child whose parent won't let you have your own way or (2)Calmly accept the reality that the weather is what it is regardless of your opinion about it.

I know, I know--easier said than done. But on the other hand, which would we prefer: pain or pleasure? misery or inner peace? I don't know the answer for you who may be reading this, but as for me, I'm going to try to make today a day of calm and peaceful acceptance, and even try to make it a day of renewal and restoration. Peace and joy be with you, my friends.