Let Us Whistle Whilst We Work

 “Clap your hands, all you peoples; shout to God with a cry of joy!" – Psalm 47

I like to whistle as I work. Why? Because I enjoy work; I enjoy labor (as long as it’s not too intensive, laborious, or hot outside); and I enjoy being productive. 

When one is happy, it is most natural to sing, whistle, or demonstrate the joy one is feeling through the outward manifestations of song and dance. Joy really isn’t joy until the body is involved. If you don’t believe me, just look at your dog’s tail when she’s about to get a treat, or when she hears the family car pull up into the driveway. Her joy is full and uncontainable, and her tail lets you know it. 

My lips are my tail, so to speak. When I’m happy, I whistle. Whistling has the added benefit of letting people know I’m around. It lets them know where they can find me. On more than one occasion my whistling has saved me from getting a door flung open into my oncoming face – and from inflicting grievous bodily harm on others while rounding a dark, blind corner. 

I don’t think anyone else in the family whistles – or at least not that I’ve heard, but that’s OK. Not all are called to whistle. Some hum; others bebop to the beat of whatever’s playing through their earbuds; still others work quietly, letting the peace and tranquility of silence serve notice to the world of an inner harmony. After all, when it comes to happiness, there are no rules – there’s “just right.” 

I think God is a whistler. Astronomers and astrophysicists tell us that they can hear the music of the universe – the music of creation – through their huge radio telescopes. Although I don’t understand the technology they utilize, I understand what they’re saying. The music of the spheres bears witness to the glory of our Creator. 

I don’t think there is nearly enough whistling these days – real or figurative. It seems to me that too much time is wasted firing off diatribes on social media or moaning over news and commentary that assails us 24/7. We need to become a fellowship of Steves (a character in To Have and Have Not, 1944) invited and encouraged to whistle: “... you put your lips together, and blow!”

We live in serious times, of course, but I’m not sure that seriousness is the problem. Life is a serious business; keeping a roof over one’s head and food on one’s table is certainly challenging and trying. It’s nothing to be laughed at or scoffed at, but does it require folks to act so dour and sour all the time? 

It isn’t a question of seriousness, but a lack of thankfulness or heart-felt gratitude (failing to appreciate what we do, indeed, have). I need to ask my more somber brothers and sisters: When faced with a challenge, would you rather find yourself in the company of those who wring their hands and fret, or with those who eagerly roll up their sleeves and dive into the fray with gusto? 

Teddy Roosevelt was one of those people who delighted in diving into a problem whole-heartedly. He was convinced it was far better to try mighty things and fail, than to try nothing and succeed. Life is a great and wonderful gift, given to us by God, and it would be a terrible waste of that good gift if we could not approach life with humility and grace, and tackle the challenges before us with a certain élan begotten by love, joy, peace, happiness, and thanksgiving. 

If I have a choice – and I think we all do – I prefer to live life as a happy fool who dares great things, rather than to live so carefully and soberly that the only evidence of my having passed this way would be a wan, gray trail of veritable slug slime. 

I believe God whistled this, our valley into existence; we do not honor God by slugging our way through life. Rather, we honor God best when we whistle, dance, or clap our hands before him. You and I are God’s Opus; how tweet it is! 

From my lips to your ears, O Lord: Hallelujah!

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)

Watch Where You Shine the Light

 “Praise the LORD from the heavens; praise him in the heights" – Psalm 148

The world we live in is an angry world. We live in an angry day and age. I don’t know if it has ever been NOT that way, but if there ever was a peaceful time, this ain’t it. I talked last time about breaking chains that divide us, and as unlikely as that seemed to be two weeks ago, events have transpired to make it seem even less likely today.

Don’t worry, though. I don’t do punditry. As a theologian, my job is to shine light into dark spaces. It’s like when I was a child helping my dad work on the car. My job was to hold the flashlight and, as a child, I seldom put the beam where he wanted it, but his fingers were experienced, so as long as the light was in the ballpark, he could do what he was doing and the job got done well enough to keep the car operational for another week.

I think that’s a lot of what priests and pastors do. We shine the light as best we can, and the beam may not land exactly where the people – the laity – the workers – want it, but it’s close enough. Right?

There are times I am overwhelmed by the news, of course. My blood pressure is excellent (honestly) and my healthcare suppliers are always pleased and amazed. However, when I read the news, I can feel it go straight up from whack to Paddy Whack! The temptation is to stop watching and reading the news, but I don’t believe God has called us to withdraw from the world, but to hold on to it even tighter.

Every now and then, children growing up will find themselves overcome with grief, anger, or frustration. Some parents may invite them to stop crying “or I’ll give you something to cry about.” Those parents and guardians do exist, sad to say. What I found more effective, though, was gently pulling the child in for a warm, loving embrace, and just absorbing their angst as long as it might take them to “get it out of their system.” 

Kids need to know they can feel what they feel. Part of a healthy relationship is being open and honest with what’s going on. As I said last time, the world often operates on a transactional level: What I can do for you, and what you can do for me, and what’s it going to cost? Transactional living leads to holding our cards close to the vest, and not knowing who can be trusted and, worst of all, thinking our value is related to the value others place on us.

“Not so among you,” says Jesus. “You are not to lord it over one another like the heathens.”

And that’s the key. So much anger and frustration arises out of our need to be in control, and control is an illusion. I can’t control the weather, or the way my team plays. I can’t control dictators, judges, or politicians. I certainly can’t control the traffic or the people around me. Truth be told, I have a hard enough time controlling myself.

Jesus is the light of the world. Reversing roles, he points the light and wants our fingers to gain experience doing the job that needs to be done. Our role is to be honest and faithful, but more than that, to be loving and kind.

In the Gospel of Luke, Jesus and his disciples find themselves one day passing through an area where the people have rejected him and his message. James and John are miffed and ask Jesus if he wants them to call down fire from heaven to consume that town and those people. That’s their testosterone talking. Jesus (I assume he did an eye-roll at that moment) answered them, saying simply, “No.”

Like a traffic cop, Jesus swings the flashlight and says, “There’s nothing to see here. Just keep moving, folks.”

That is good advice when we find we’ve gotten our panties in a twist. Take a deep, cleansing breath, offer praise to God like the psalmist, and move along – wherever you are in this, our flash-lit valley.

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)

Wait! There's MORE!!!

Photo found on Tumblr. Photographer unknown and uncredited.

How’s your Easter going? If you’re like me, you may have trouble thinking of Easter as a Season. With Lent, at least you feel like it's a season. Those daily meditations Jen McCabe pulls together help knit the season of Lent together, makes it feel more cohesive.

But Easter always feels like a day.

You’ve got the family gathering and feast at home, and there’s everything we can do to make the day special here in church – the flowers, the bells and whistles – David pulling out all the stops on the organ so this place almost feels like Jericho with the walls just ready to come tumbling down, tumbling down, tumbling down … don’t they?

It’s glorious and mighty. After that, though, everything else is just plain mundane. It is still Easter, but my marshmallow peeps are all gone. The devilled eggs have disappeared. I am down to my last few jelly beans in my candy jar. The lamb from Easter dinner is just a distant memory. 

So Easter is done, at least up here (in the mind). 

It looks like maybe it is done for the disciples, too, doesn’t it?

In the Gospel of John, we have 3 primary resurrection stories; we heard one on Easter Sunday and two more last Sunday. On Easter morning, the women find the empty tomb; they go get Peter and John (who race to the tomb) and they also find it empty. 

John adds a juicy little detail. The napkin that covered the face is folded neatly and set aside. In the ancient near-east, when the Master or the Mistress of the house got up from the table, they would do one of 2 things with the napkin. If they were done eating, they would crumple it up and toss it on the table or plate, and the servants would know it was time to clear the table and clean up.

But if the Master or Mistress folded their napkin, it meant they were coming back (like they had to go “freshen up” or something). So John tells us the napkin was rolled up neatly … In other words, Jesus wasn’t done. It was Jesus’ way of saying: There’s More!!!

It’s like those late night commercials you see on TV. “This is a great product at a terrific price, but WAIT, there’s more! If you buy now, we’ll include a second set absolutely free (just pay the extra shipping and handling)!”

So, there’s an empty tomb and a rolled up napkin. But WAIT! There’s more. The women won’t leave. Mary meets a man she presumes is the gardener. “Where have you taken him?” Jesus calls her by name. “Mary.”

Suddenly, she KNOWS! There WAS more! So she tells the disciples, but they don’t believe her. And John says, of course they don’t, but WAIT! There’s more!!!

John ends the Gospel with those  two final resurrection appearances where Jesus pops in on the disciples in the upper room and says, “Relax. Peace. It’s me. I told you I wasn’t finished. Didn’t you see the napkin? Receive the Holy Spirit – He pours the Holy Spirit upon them right then and there. Just like when God breathed life into Adam in the very beginning, Jesus breathes life into his friends – Take my life and share it with others. Release them from their pain and sorrow. Release them and heal them.”

Poor Thomas, of course, isn’t with them, and he struggles with regret. “I want to believe, but I can’t. What you’re telling me is Science Fiction, fantasy, ghost stories, fairy tales.”

But WAIT … There’s more!

A week goes by. The disciples haven’t moved. The Peace of God hasn’t given them strength to move on. So Jesus appears yet a third time. This time Thomas is there. Wow! There WAS More!!! 

As Deacon Dennis told us last week, Faith and Doubt work together. They really team up to help us wrestle with what it means to be witnesses to resurrection, witnesses to a life unlike anything else we’ve ever really known. Doubt and faith push against each other like those isometric exercises we had to do in grade school. Remember those? Push, pull to strengthen various muscle groups.

So John finishes the Gospel with 3 resurrection appearances: Jesus appears to Mary in the garden and twice in the upper room.

John says, “There’s a lot more I could tell you about Jesus – all the things he said and did – but even the world couldn’t hold it all if I tried to tell you. I just hope this was enough.

And as you and I take a deep breath, John says, But WAIT! There’s More!!!

And that brings us to the lesson today: 

A little time has gone by. At least enough for the disciples to leave Jerusalem and go back home to Galilee (some 80 miles). Easter morning is done. Easter night (without Thomas) is over. Thomas Finding Faith the following Sunday is over. The lamb has been eaten. The wineskins are empty. There’s no more Peeps or jelly beans. The Passover linens have all been put away. There’s no reason to stick around, so the disciples have all gone home.

It’s back to business as usual for them and for us. They’re back on the lake. They’re back to doing what they’ve always done. Fishermen. Tax collecting. Some of them (like Simon the Zealot) might even be back to plotting against Rome. Or maybe they’ve decided to go into this joint venture together, just trying to make a living as fishmongers.

Being followers of the way was fine as long as it lasted, but now what? It was nice to see Jesus pop in those couple of times, but now what? 

It seemed like such a dream. Telling people about what happened – well, they weren’t going to do that! You may as well tell them you’ve seen chariots of fire and wheels within wheels, and fiery bushes, and six-winged seraphim and chubby little cherubim! 

May as well toss in a leprechaun or two while you’re at it and see how many people buy your fish and loaves when you do that!

So they’re out doing what they’ve always done, doing things the way they’ve always done them. They’re running on empty. Their nets are empty. They’re bobbing in boats like corks on a calm day.

But WAIT! What’s this? There’s More!!!

After fishing all night, morning has broken .. like the first morning! While Peter and a half dozen disciples are in the boat near shore, a man walks by on the beach and he calls out to them, “Children, you haven’t any meat, have you?” 

He doesn’t say “fish” by the way. The word is prosphagion, rather than ichthus. It’s what you bring to the table to go with your bread (any sort of meat protein). Jesus says elsewhere, “I am the bread of life … I am the true bread.”

So what Jesus is saying is, “Hey kids, have you got anything to go with me?” But they don’t know that. They don’t know it’s Jesus. Jesus calls them “Kids – Children.” He doesn’t call them friends. Not here. He calls them children. Why?

Because children are curious. They’re young. They’re energetic. There’s a willingness to learn. There’s a willingness to play. 

What he’s saying is, “Kids, you’re taking your business too seriously. Has all your hard work made your lives any better? Besides sweaty armpits, have you got anything to show for it? Have you got anything to bring to the table?”

We sometimes make fun of the disciples, about how slow they were, how dense they could be. But they’re really our stunt-doubles. They’re a mirror we hold up to see what we’re doing, to see how we’re doing. They show us the spinach that’s stuck in our teeth.

But Wait. There’s more!

Jesus doesn’t throw rocks. He rolled away the big stone that plugged up his burial cave. But Jesus doesn’t throw rocks. He plays with his friends like children! 

“The left side didn’t work, did it? Try the right side,” he says.

The professionals know the sea is open. There’s no fence or wall keeping fish from going over here or over there. It doesn’t matter. I don’t even think it’s a matter of whether or not they’ve got anything to lose. Peter, James, John, Andrew, and a couple of other guys throw the nets in, and BANG! It’s like every fish in the sea was waiting for them right there. Their NET profits went right through the roof, And SUDDENLY, John knows it’s Jesus and says to Peter, “It’s the Lord!”

Peter is so caught up in the moment he throws on some clothes and then dives right into the lake and swims to shore. The others just row the boat to shore, pulling the net full of fish with them, and you would think that would be enough. 

But WAIT! There’s more!!!

Time after time after time, Jesus keeps surprising his friends. Jesus keeps surprising us, too. Jesus never wastes his time blaming the disciples for their various shortcomings. He doesn’t berate them for going back to work. Jesus doesn’t stand on the shore going, “Gee, I was hoping you’d have moved on from fishing.”

But Jesus doesn’t do that. He sees what they’re doing, and he helps them find a way to do better. They’ve been working all night, so he invites them to join him for a meal – prosphagion and bread. 

And by now, you know what’s coming, don’t you? Right – there’s MORE!

After breakfast, Jesus knows Peter’s been feeling a little down. And why not? Peter must feel a bit like a loser. When Jesus was arrested, Peter promised to fight, but he ran away, saving his own skin. When Jesus was at trial, big, manly Peter denied knowing Jesus 3 times – to save his own skin. Instead of taking the keys to the kingdom Jesus had given him and building on the mighty work that Jesus had begun, he “turtled,” pulling head and limbs back into the safety and comfort of his shell.

Jesus wants to raise him up, as an outward and visible sign of resurrection, and so he speaks directly to Peter – not to his head, but to HIM. 

So he enters into a brief dialogue that’s hard to communicate in English, because there is some word-play going on in the Greek that translators just don’t know how to open for us, but it involves 2 words that both get translated “LOVE.” Agape, and Phileo. Phileo is the fraternal kind of love we see in families and really close friends – the kind you’d die for, if you had to.

Agape, on the other hand, is less personal. It reflects the kind of love we have for a community, and is better reflected by a sense of fairness and justice. It’s the kind of love we see when there is one drumstick left on the table, and the table rule is this: You must ask if anyone else wants the drumstick FIRST, before reaching out and taking it for yourself. 

That sounds more like LAW than LOVE, but it is what it is. 

So the dialogue goes like this: “Simon, son of John, do you AGAPE me more than these?”

Peter understands civic pride and how Torah keeps things in balance for the most part, so Peter wants to go a step further. He aims for Jesus’ heart when he says, “Yes Lord, you know that I PHILEO you.”

Jesus nods and says, “Feed my lambs.” In other words, get out of your head and take care of our friends.

You know, of course, there’s more. Jesus says a second time, “Simon, son of John, do you Agape me?” 

Peter’s probably a little confused, so he repeats his answer, “Yes, Lord, you KNOW I PHILEO you.” (What a friend we have in Jesus – that’s where my heart is, Lord).

Jesus nods again and says, “Shepherd my little ones.” In other words, move out of your comfort zone; I have work for you to do. These people need your attention. Sheep need more than green grass and still waters, they need someone to walk through the valley of the shadow, too.

But Peter’s not there yet, is he? The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. Isn’t that what we say? So Jesus leaves the Agape of heaven behind, and changes the question: “Simon, son of John, do you PHILEO me?”

Jesus changes the question, and that shakes Peter to the core, because now he’s beginning to understand what Jesus is doing. Just like with the incarnation where God came to us, Jesus now comes to Peter, mano a mano, and Peter says, “Lord, you know everything (how I say I love you, yet over and over I’ve failed you), yet, you know that I PHILEO you.”

Jesus smiles and says, “Feed my little ones. When you were a child, you would go where you wanted and do what you wanted, but the time is coming where that will change. Don’t worry, the cross will find you, but we’ll go through the valley of the shadow together. Follow me.”

That, my friends is the Gospel. Wait, there’s more; follow me!

Prepared to be delivered by Keith Axberg to St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Mount Vernon, WA 05/01/2022 (but not needed, after all)