A Nativity Mystery

This Christmas Eve will be the next to the last Christmas Eve that I will serve as the pastor of a church. In June, 2018, I will fully retire from that aspect of ministry. I put it that way because I will remain open to other pastoral type duties (though "duties" seems too impersonal), such as occasional weddings or funerals. 

That being said, I know that I will miss being the pastor of a church in this season in particular because Christmas and Advent have long been my favorite. It's not that the rest of the year isn't meaningful; it most certainly is. But these seasons have a quality that reflects what a lot of us long for most in our lives: a joyful hopefulness that gives life a special spiritual richness. 

I realize, of course, that it isn't universally so. There are many people who go through a very difficult time at Christmas for various reasons. Sometimes it's because of having lost a loved one in the past year; sometimes there are financial issues that keep them up at night that are made even more painful by this season; sometimes they are suffering from severe loneliness. Those are just a few among many reasons that not everyone's experience of the holidays is what I just said--"joyful hopefulness."

Taking that into consideration, what I am referring to here in particular has to do with my 40 plus years as a church professional, involved in attempting to relay the message of the Nativity within the Church. It's not that every year has been completely fulfilling or wonderful. But they have each had their own gift to bring to the human spirit. 

One thing, though, that continues to be an ongoing unresolved theological mystery for me is what is responsible for the disconnect between the message of Christmas and the way we human creatures actually go about living our lives and treating one another. 

One thing may be that the way of Jesus--that we love our neighbor as we love ourselves--may seem too soft, too idealistic, too naive, and too risky. We prefer strength, power, and muscle-flexing postures. I once saw online a series of portrayals of Jesus by an artist whose image of Jesus was really bizarre. In his pictures, the Christ was wearing a sleeveless shirt, had huge bisceps with tattoos, and behind the image was an American flag. The statement was thus suggesting that Jesus and Christianity belonged specifically to the white people of the good ol' USA.

Well, of course, nothing could be further from the truth. Jesus (in his own language "Yeshua") was a Jew, was an olive skinned Middle Easterner, who spoke Aramaic, and stood probably about 5'6", judging from what is known anthropologically of the people of his time and place. The Christian faith and the stories therein do not belong to anyone. They represent something that had nothing to do with politics or power or nationality. 

Yet, in another sense, they belong to everyone who wishes to accept them as a gift for the whole human family. I pray in this season, before it is over and the trees come down and put curbside, and the Nativity sets are put away in a box and carried up to the attic, that we will all pause and give thanks that the birth of Christ also means Grace--i.e.-we still have a chance to truly live with compassion and hope and caring for one another and accepting one another regardless of our differences just as Christ has put before us as The Way. That doesn't rely on legislation or political posturing. It relies fully on love.

"I've Been Lately Thinking"

 

            "I've been lately thinking about my lifetime, all the things 

       I've done and how it's been..."

That's a line from John Denver's song, Poems, Prayers, and Promises." I'm going to sing that song at a nephew's wedding in a couple of weeks. I'm very honored to have been asked for a few reasons:

• One reason is that I am very fond of them both as a couple because they have a deep love and respect for the environment and the wildlife thereof. 
• A second reason is that, at my age, it's a nice feeling to be considered as someone who can still contribute meaningfully to a younger generation's life in an area (music) which has meant so much to me all my life.
• And a third reason is that the song they have selected comes from a genre of music (John Denver) in which many young people have very little interest.  

That is not a statement, by the way, that is intended to be a criticism of anyone who is not a John Denver fan. I simply mean that that music is near and dear to me personally, and has been for many years. I went to several of his concerts at the Spectrum, for those of you who remember that great cathedral of music, now demolished for the sake of the bigger and better, so to speak.
 
But as I have been practicing the song, the line I quoted above has particularly stood out for me in that I find that to be a common occurrence for me these days--thinking about my life, what I've done and how it's been. It's not worth a book, that's for sure, but somehow it does me good to reflect on things. I suspect that some of you do the same thing. 

I don't do it wishing I could return to the past--far from it! I love the days I am living right now! The "good old days" that many people long for, never really existed in the first place. We can have a wonderful fondness for certain moments long ago, but, at the same time, there were other moments that weren't all that great. In fact, I don't know about you, but for me there are some things I could get re-embarrassed about were I to linger there too long. 

The idea of reflection for me involves a sense of gratitude and growth. I am grateful for the friends and family I've had, including all of those who are presently in my life. I am grateful for the opportunities that amazingly came my way almost effortlessly. I am grateful for experiences--both painful and joyous--that taught me something I might not have otherwise learned.

I keep a few different journals for different purposes. I won't go into the various reasons, but I find that every once in awhile, I'll refer to one or another of them and discover ways in which my thinking has changed, presumably for the better or how I made it through some difficult period of my life. I guess that's why some people write memoirs. 

The point is that our lives are meaningful stories that are continuing to unfold in sometimes surprising and even splendid ways. It's not likely that anyone will write a book about us or produce a movie about us for the big screen. Nonetheless when you think about it, each one of us is living and breathing within the history of the human family. Sound like too big of an idea?  Consider then how the world has evolved since the day you were born.

Just a thought.

Realizing Life

Trying to make sense of our world is getting increasingly difficult. With the playground mentality of the current world of politics and elections to the horrific world of terrorism based on warped ideologies, it's hard to know what we can expect for the future. The world in which many of us grew up, albeit somewhat naive, was nonetheless basically pleasant and free of fears and threats. Of course, that is a trick the mind plays on us as we edit our memories of days gone by. 

In Thorton Wilder's play, Our Town, one of the main characters, Emily, has died but is given permission thereafter to go back and relive one day of her life. She chooses to go back to the day of her 12th birthday. She is greatly disappointed because that experience brings home the hard reality of what that day was really like. She was hoping to relive a day of great fun and family celebration. That's apparently how her memory replayed it for her. But as the reliving experience unfolded, she realized that things weren't exactly as she supposedly remembered them. Everyone was too busy to the point of paying very little attention to her or even to the fact that it was her birthday. In the midst of that, in exasperation she says, "Doesn't anyone ever realize life while they live it?"

Every once in awhile I get into a state of mind and heart that makes me pause to consider if I am "realizing life while I live it." 

I saw an interview with Dick Van Dyke, who just turned 90 years old, in which Tavis Smiley asked him the classic life philosophy question. His answer was, "Don't do anything that isn't fun." Of course, with a reality check, Dick Van Dyke supposedly has the money and circumstances which more easily allow him to be very selective, whereas in most of our lives, we don't have such a privilege. But, then again, maybe we're not being as honest and selective as we really could be. I don't know--that's a personal question for each of us to ask I guess.

I know for myself that it would be of great benefit to me to begin each day thinking about that. What can I do today to "realize life" while I have it to live? I think the first thing to keep in mind would be to be perfectly honest about it: Even though there are things I must do today that I don't particularly want to do, is there some place in the day ahead that I can find a moment or moments for being fully alive with joy?  I think the second thing to keep in mind would be: If not, why not? And the answer to that may very well be that we don't think we deserve it. (Sad conditioning from unauthorized intruders into our personal  well-being) And the third thing to keep in mind is that the point of life is to live it while we have it.

Do you remember the commercial for V8 Juice that has people slapping their heads and saying, "I could've had a V8!"? Wouldn't it be sad if we passed from this life to the next with that kind of reaction to how we might have lived our lives? Just a thought.

Lessons Learned in Europe (or 8th Grade)

On a bridge in Bruges

We spent the first two and a half weeks of this year in Brussels, Belgium, with a quick stopover in Amsterdam. We were visiting our son, Tim, and his significant other, Elva. It was our third trip to Europe and it made me think of a time many years ago when my memories of that part of the world were far less joyful.

When I was in 8th grade we had to do a European booklet. There was a lot of cutting and pasting and long-hand writing (no computers in those days). Then it had to be put neatly together in one of those paper/cardboard folders with the metal clips, using, of course, three ring notebook paper. Some of you probably know exactly what I'm talking about. 

It took a long time to gather all the pictures and info for each country. When it was finished, it had absolutely no resemblance whatsoever to National Geographic, but there was some pride involved in having done that. However, one unfortunate thing happened that took the wind out of my sails.

There was a kind of bully in the class (although not of the same caliber of the ones we hear of in the news these days). He shall remain nameless though I seriously doubt that most of you would know him anyway. I guess I had my share of good days and bad days with him, since I was one of the less important kids in the class and not one of the Jr.High age movers and shakers.

Anyway, the story goes as follows.
It was during the lunch break and one-by-one all the kids were returning to the classroom. Today was the day to hand in our European booklets, which I had proudly (more for the fact that I had completed than for its quality) placed on the corner of my desk, waiting for the teacher to come back in and collect them.

My sometimes-friend-and-sometimes-foe came in and spotted my booklet and though he had one of his own, it was far from complete. He was under pressure. Today he would be my friend because he asked in his bigger-than-me persuasive voice, if he could borrow mine to copy from. At first I resisted in my usual humble (sheepish) manner, but his commanding presence was very persuasive. 

Now here's the next thing you need to know. Our teacher had explicitly warned us that if she caught anyone copying someone else's booklet, she would confiscate both and rip them in half. I knew that and the thought of that alone should have made me deny my sometimes friend, sometimes foe's request. But something inside of me thought that she wouldn't really do that. I'm guessing that you're guessing what happen next.

Sure enough, as he was busily and frantically copying my booklet, in comes the teacher who immediately knew was what going on.  She grabbed both booklets and waited until the rest of the class came in, and then she stood up front, announcing to everyone that she was sorry that she had to do this, but she had warned us. Then taking my booklet in hand, she tore it in half, right in front of everyone. 

To this day, I can recall the feeling I had down deep inside, watching that. I had no choice but to do it all over again, which the teacher graciously allowed me the extra time to complete. I think she genuinely felt sorry for me because she knew that I had been a victim because she also knew the other boy's traits.

The point of my telling you this is not about bullying; it's about grace in the midst of life's worst moments. We've all done and said foolish things--
sometimes under duress, sometimes out of fear, sometimes out of carelessness, and sometimes out of innocence and ignorance. Enter stage right, grace.  

At the heart of life's events and circumstances is the great equalizer--the universal state of being human. There is mercy to be had and mercy to be found and mercy to be given in the realization that we are all in this thing called life together.  Maybe that suggests that we should learn to forgive ourselves and learn to forgive one another more easily than we do. Of course, after the lessons have been learned.

By the way, I remember that Belgium and the Netherlands were in my booklet. They're much better in person.

WHYS AND WHEREFORES

In case you're wondering where I've been (but maybe you haven't), I don't have the slightest idea when it comes to my blog postings. One thing I realized was that I was sometimes sounding a bit repetitive and on the preachy side. Also, in the last several months, I have been dealing with a major case of the shingles that has drained me of a lot of my inspiration. (I highly recommend that if you had chicken pox when you were a child, definitely get the shingles vaccine. I got mine to prevent ever getting it again). I'm happy to report that now I'm almost completely over it, with just a few twinges of discomfort now and then.

This Friday I will turn 73 and I have to say that I feel very fortunate at this stage of my life to be able to still do many of the things I have always enjoyed. 
Yet, at the same time, I also must confess that I haven't actually carried through with some of those things. So in this new year (now very much underway), I have been thinking about what is often referred to as "the whys and wherefores" of life. I assume that many of you do that once in awhile too. 

Obviously I am tempted to say that for the first few months of this year, I was somewhat debilitated by the shingles. I don't think anyone who has had them would blame me for that. I wasn't feeling well for a lot of the time, and I kept waiting to feel better before I got too deeply involved in pursuing something new or something old. But since my next birthday is on the horizon, I have been awakened to the reality that now is as good a time as ever.

Chris was telling me about a documentary she saw that showed a man in his 90's trudging around in a pond. He was an entomologist and had spent his lifetime dedicated to studying the "whys and wherefores" of insects. As he was somewhat struggling to keep his footing in the murky, muddy waters, he commented that he wished he could still do the things he used to be able to do when he was 80.

Hmm, food for thought! I celebrated my 60th by snow shoeing in the Adirondacks. Don't think I could do that anymore. Well, who knows? Maybe I could, but I'm sure it would be at a much slower pace and for a much shorter distance. Which leads me to say that I think I need to be appreciative of what I can still do at my present age-to-be and do it!

I like what Wayne Dyer said, "Don't let an old person into your form." Good thinking, but I also like what the guitarist, Chet Atkins, once said, "Don't worry about what you can't do, but recognize what you can do and do it the best you can."