THIS OUR VALLEY There’s peace behind the curtain

 

"The Lord has taken away the judgments against you, and turned away your enemies” Zephaniah 3

One of the easiest mistakes we make during the Christmas season (which, as I’ve mentioned countless times before is actually “Advent”), is to think it is all about, or mostly about making merry, wishing people season’s greetings, shopping for loved ones, or (if you’re really into that silly gift-card-channel) finding romance in and amongst broken lives found in small towns all across America.

No wonder we miss the “reason for the season.” 

Of course, we can’t forget all the magic involving flying reindeer, jolly elves, dreams of fresh-fallen snow on holiday inns, rascally waifs left home alone, Griswold house decorating, playing hide and seek throughout the Nakatomi Plaza office building (and let’s not forget Scrooge in all his iterations, or George Bailey, either), and so on.

No wonder we continue to miss the “reason for the season.”

The season is so cluttered with signs and symbols, we struggle to make sense of it (if we even bother trying to make sense). Perhaps we need to look behind this curtain of chaos.

Commingled signs and symbols ignore the story in the Gospel of Luke that is lying at the base of the tree: a pregnant couple making their way from home in Nazareth to Papa’s ancestral home in Bethlehem, only to be turned away from the original Holiday Inn and forced to have their baby in the local barnyard, laying him in a food-trough, and being visited by shepherds who do little more than oo and ah at the cuddly little tyke.

Spoiler alert: The Magi and special Star are found in a different book (Gospel of Matthew) and don’t show up until January 6 (Feast of the Epiphany), but they still get thrown into our Christmas cards, carols, and sundry impressions made upon us of what happened over twenty centuries ago in the levant, where Africa, Europe, and Asia meet.

This is not the time and space where one can lay out the Christmas story in full (stories, really), or the practical and theological implications those stories entail. Rather, as I did in my previous column, I invite you to pause in the midst of this seasonal chaos and listen.

Do you hear what I hear? Listen to the voice of God, whispering in the darkness: “I see you huddled in the cold: alone, sick, hungry, naked, afraid. I will come. 

“I see you ranting, raving, raging against intolerable events, situations, and the abusive powers that be. I am coming.

“I see you struggling against the storms of life, looking into the abyss, seeing only darkness, hearing the thundering hoofbeats of the approaching horsemen of the apocalypse, finding only despair and deep dread for what the future may hold for you, your children, and your children’s children. I have come!”

What voice is this? A poor child of a small insignificant family, from a small insignificant town, in a small insignificant corner of a great magnificent empire? 

Who?  A child whose birth scared a tyrant so badly that he massacred numerous infants in an effort to destroy the threat; the child of a refugee family forced to flee their home country for the sake of their survival; a child who would always have far more in common with the lowliest beggar than the loftiest ruler, emperor, or oligarch.

What’s the meaning of this? The trees, lights, noise, smells and bells of the season are little more than a smoke screen that serve us much like the bushes in the Garden served to hide Adam and Eve from their shame when God dropped in for a visit. God did not desire their death, but reconciliation, restoration, and spiritual reunion. 

That’s God's desire for us, too. As the prophet said in this column’s opening line: The Lord has taken away the judgments against (us) ... That’s good news!

Our call is to shift from simply mouthing platitudes of Peace and Good Will, and to actually making peace, being of good will, finding healing, feeding one another, refreshing one another, honoring one another, and behaving honorably – to be the wind that sings to the earth: Do you hear what I hear?

Let us take time this season to incarnate the love and peace of God that lies behind the curtain here in this, our valley (and beyond). Merry Christmas!

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)

ADVENT 2 (Year C) – PEACE

Collect:  Merciful God, who sent your messengers the prophets to preach repentance and prepare the way for our salvation: Give us grace to heed their warnings and forsake our sins, that we may greet with joy the coming of Jesus Christ our Redeemer; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.

Lessons: Baruch 5:1-9 God will lead Israel with joy

or Malachi 3:1-4 I am sending my messenger to prepare the way

Cant. 16 (Song of Zechariah) You (John) shall be called the prophet of the Most High

Philippians 1:3-11 I pray that your love may overflow more and more

Luke 3:1-6 (T)he voice of one crying out in the wilderness

Give ear O heavens, and I will speak; let the earth hear the words of my mouth, for I will proclaim the Name of the Lord, and ascribe greatness to our God.

“Merciful God, (You) sent your messengers the prophets to preach repentance and prepare the way for our salvation. Give us GRACE to heed their warnings and forsake our sins …”

That’s our prayer for today. The First Sunday of Advent our focus was on HOPE. If you remember the Gospel from last week, Jesus shared a little about what we often call “The End Times,” and for 2,000 years we have tried to figure out when that might be. 

It’s really a silly little exercise in futility, when you think about it. We’ve seen empires come and go, kingdoms rise and fall; wars and rumors of war swirl all around us all the time; pestilence and famine; the economy booms and busts time and time again.

Jesus doesn’t so much point us to the future, looking through some magic telescope. He’s really compressing time and space and says, “This is the world we live in, but in the midst of all the clouds and smoke, see the Son of Man coming in power and great glory, so fear not; hold fast to hope; hold your head high and look, for your redemption is at hand, in sight, and drawing near.”

What he’s saying is that while the world is filled with anxiety and dread, we don’t need to be, for we can see God coming to the rescue. That gives us hope.

It’s not the future; it is the reality we live in. God brings comfort to every generation; Don’t hang your heads in shame; don’t curl up into a fetal position and close your eyes in fear. Look! See! Behold! 

Salvation is right at our doorstep!

These are all action words. We have HOPE because the author of hope is right here, at hand – not far far away.

* * * * * * * *

Today we shift our focus from hope to PEACE. 

It is the Peace of God that Passes all understanding, isn’t it? Peace isn’t the lack of war or conflict, it’s being able to breathe – physically, spiritually.

Can you say, “Shalom” without exhaling? When we breathe, we receive peace. 

Did you ever play hide and seek with little children, and you give them to a count of 10 or 30 to hide, and when you say, “GO!” they stand there stomping their feet trying to go in 50 directions at one time. Their brains have short-circuited and they don’t know where to go, where to hide, so they run in circles for a few seconds until they can get some traction and find that special hiding place.

This is the fight/flight reflex at work. We panic, so we can’t think. 

Anxiety is like that, which is why we worry about the future. 

And then we worry that our faith isn’t very good, because we’re worried and somewhere we got this idea that if we’re worried, we’re not trusting God, and if we’re not trusting God, God will get all hot and bothered by our lack of faith and maybe blow some heavenly raspberries at us when we pray and ask for help.

Well, I’m here to tell you today, that image of God has got it all backwards. 

We worry, of course. We worry because we’re human; we don’t know what tomorrow will bring. 

We know what it’s like when the money runs out before the month does, or the car dies and you can’t hardly afford a jump, let alone a new battery. We’ve gotten the note from school about a special school trip that will cost $20, plus another $20 for food and incidentals, and you haven’t got $2 to give your child, let alone $40 – the shame. Most of us have been there at one point or another. 

Worry is natural. It can also be inspirational – a gift from God. 

It isn’t the opposite of faith. In fact, it can often serve as a back road to faithfulness and godly living. It invites us to think, plan, and be creative. 

Do you remember that Aesop fable with the industrious ant who builds her nest and gathers food and water, and all that good stuff while the grasshopper fiddles around all summer? Summer ends, the grasshopper is hungry, and the ant slams the door. “There’s not enough for me and you,” she says.

That story always bothered me as a Christian. Where’s the empathy? Where’s the sympathy? Where’s the love? We’re taught to look down upon the lazy grasshopper, aren’t we? 

We probably recall the American fable where the first English settlers at James Town were struggling with survival, and Captain John Smith declared that those who would not work would not eat. We understand those stories. We’re inspired by those stories. But as Christians? We want the ant to share. We want the ant to care. We want the ant to work with the grasshopper to find a solution that honors and respects the dignity of each.

Perhaps the music of the grasshopper served the community all summer in a way the ants didn’t even think about; maybe it helped the ants to whistle while they worked. Not “lazy” – but different gifts that each contributes to the welfare of the whole.

Jesus tells us God cares for the lilies of the field, notices when a sparrow drops from the sky. How much more does God love each of us? 

Worry is natural, but it invites us to reach out to God and to one another and trust that working together, we’ll get through the heat of summer, as well as the cold and dark of winter. 

In the Gospel today, we are introduced to John the Baptizer. Luke tells us he went into all the region around the Jordan, “proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.”

Again, I don’t know about you, but sometimes I find those words “repentance” and “sin” quite burdensome.  I grew up in a church that had a very clear central message: “Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so; Little ones to him belong, we are weak but he is strong.” 

As much as we emphasize the love of God in church, though, there’s always that niggling little voice bouncing around that echo chamber between my ears, whispering a little more loudly than it should that the fires of perdition burn hot, and all it takes is one mis-step, one accident, one forgotten Hail Mary or Our Father and you can forget about all that “love” stuff, because God needs kindling and this time “you’re it!”

When John the Baptizer yells out “You brood of Vipers,” you know that includes we good church-folk, right? We bring John the Baptist out every year during Advent and he turns us into the Church of the Quivering Brethren! 

Brood of vipers. Forest of worthless scrub brush in need of clearing, cleaning, and burning.

He reminds me of my Fourth Grade school teacher, Ms. Legaz. She doled out homework by the ton. She was a harsh taskmaster. There was fire in her eyes, and with just a look kids would evaporate.

One day, Ms. Legaz was called away; she had to go to the office. She gave us an assignment to keep us busy while she was out for a few minutes. Of course, as soon as she was out the door, the class erupted with the kinetic energy of a Cat. 4 hurricane. 

My good friend Gary Sly stood watch at the classroom door and when he saw Ms. Legaz coming down the hallway, her stiletto heels clicking on the tiles, he alerted the class of her return. But they were being so noisy and inattentive, they didn’t hear him (but I did. I always paid attention, and I was trying to do the assignment. I really was). 

So Gary was waving his arms, yelling, trying to get the class to settle down when Ms. Legaz came up behind him, and suddenly, I knew there would be thunder and lightning and you could almost see the smoke of  brimstone pumping out her ears. But then …

What’s amazing is: she didn’t yell and scream. She didn't rain down death and destruction. Everyone returned to their seats. She didn’t punish us. She didn’t chastise us. And she didn’t call us a brood of vipers. She simply said, “You know better than that,” and then went on with whatever it was we were doing before she had been called away.

That word “Repent” is metanoia (Greek) and teshuva (Hebrew) doesn’t exactly mean to stop doing wrong, or stop doing bad things. It means to turn, to change one’s mind, one’s direction, one’s attitude. It means to return to a better place, a better state. 

The heart of teshuva is to return – to go home. The Hebrews didn’t just escape from Egypt. They were returning home – the land of promise. Teshuva.

Life is sometimes chaotic, like the classroom when the teacher is away. John is standing in the doorway, like my friend Gary, calling us to pay attention, to settle down, to focus.

Now John was a crusty old salt. He says there is one coming mightier than him, the thong of whose sandal he’s not worthy to stoop and untie.

John looks at the rowdy crowd and he tells them clearly, “If it were up to me, I’d take a flamethrower to this place! I’d take an axe and clear this worthless scrub-forest.”

But here’s the surprise.

God comes and lifts up the torch, not to burn us down, but to help us see better. God sets aside the axe and, instead, pulls out pruning shears to trim and shape our lives. 

God hands us a shovel, not to dig our own graves, but to help fill in potholes and smooth out those irritating speed-bumps we try to dodge in life.

Why? 

So that we will see the God who heals and restores the world, and who invites us to come in and be a part of that work because, in the end, God really does love us, and creation. That’s what gives us peace. That’s what allows us to breathe. And that’s what we have to share with the world in these anxious times. You are loved. We are loved. 

In some ways, I think God shrugs her shoulders, like Ms. Legaz and says, “You can do better. We can do better. Let’s get back to work.”

Advent is a season of hope, peace, joy, and love. Each week more light is brought into this sacred space. May God grant us the courage to receive that light and carry it forth in the Name of the One who is to come.

In the Name of God, the source of our Hope, Peace, Joy, and Love. Amen

Delivered by the Rev. Keith Axberg (Retired) to Christ Episcopal Church, Anacortes, WA, December 8, 2024

 

THIS OUR VALLEY: Don’t buy into Black Friday madness!

"Develop an interest in life … The world is so rich, simply throbbing with rich treasures, beautiful souls, and interesting people. Forgive yourself.” Henry Miller

Angel ornament handcrafted by friend Gladys Fee ca. 1979

I woke up this morning to a thousand ads in my email in-box. Black Friday is upon us, although I wonder if there is any such thing as Black Friday. There was a time that was the day after Thanksgiving, and noted for shoppers storming the stores and malls for “the best deals of the season” (although that claim was always dubious in the best of times.). 

The irony has never been lost, that a day devoted to thanking God for family, friends, football, and feasting is followed by a day of mob violence and commercial madness.

Black Friday, for me, is a day of keeping the shades down, the lights off, and allowing the tsunami of local spendthrifts to crash headlong onto the rocks of financial ruin in their vain efforts to save a buck here or there. Madness. Sheer madness!

I’m not immune to these local customs, of course. I will do my holiday duty in supporting the economy; I just won’t do it today. I will spread it out, and I will do what I can with what I have in hand. I have never subscribed to the idea of going into debt for the holiday.

I am old enough to remember when some of the local stores in Ballard (where I grew up) had Christmas Clubs. People would open (and fund) special accounts specifically for the holidays. Instead of paying interest on money borrowed, they earned interest on these savings accounts – paying themselves for their annual expenses. The stores benefited by having a dependable supply of customers, come December.

We didn’t have a lot of rules in the house in which I grew up, but one I have tried to live by was my father’s maxim: Pay yourself first. Savings accounts earned about four percent interest, home loans cost about six to eight percent, and consumer debt (credit cards) were capped at twelve percent (by law!). Anything over twelve percent was illegal; it was called Usury (excessive interest that violated any sense of decency). 

Sadly, those laws went the way of the dinosaur, blown away by the great Asteroid of Greed that accompanied the oil embargoes of the 1970s. Today we’re lucky to make two percent interest on savings and our credit card rates run 21-25 percent (according to recent consumer credit reports). 

My father’s other bit of financial wisdom was this: Live according to your means. That’s hard to do. Not because the world is so expensive (which it is), but because we have been trained to want more and more, told we deserve everything the next person has, conditioned to believe that greed is normal, that greed is good, and that we’ll lose out if we let someone else have what we want first. No one wants to be a loser.

It’s tough ignoring all the seasonal “specials” we get blasted with on the telly, emails, or streaming media. It’s hard, but not impossible. 

I want to suggest there are other ways to approach the holidays and assure my readers that as fun and “right” as it may feel to spend money buying gifts and fretting over what to get one another and doing everything the holidays seem to demand of us. And what is that “other way” you ask?

Pause. 

It cuts against the grain, but find your limits; take time out and know it is OK to decline invitations when you’re not up to it. Jesus took time out from his busy schedule to get away, to meditate and pray, to reconnect with earth, soul, and God. Remember, if you look at the upcoming holidays and find yourself saying, “Jesus, not again!” that is as much a prayer as the Our Father or the Hail Mary. If Jesus needed to pause, how much more the rest of us?

The world goes cold, dark, and silent this time of year. It’s not dead; it’s resting. We don’t need to chase away the darkness. Joy may be found in the peace and quiet of new-fallen snow. The light of God’s presence may be seen in the hearts and souls of those we meet, if only we’d look. Forget Santa Claus. Embrace the Santa Pause here in this, our valley – and be thankful.

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)

 

Chicken Terry-bull Yucky

"Fear is a question: What are you afraid of, and why? Your fears are a treasure-house of self-knowledge if you explore them.” Marilyn Ferguson

The other day I needed to reheat some barbecued chicken for dinner. We have a new microwave, replacing one that was ruined by rainwater when our roof developed a leak a few months back. So we have a new-fangled microwave oven with all the bells and whistles one could possibly want for reheating coffee or, as in this case, chicken.

I put in the bird, set it to reheat, pushed the Start button, and busied myself with my other dinner-time tasks. The machine has built-in sensors that adjust the time and power levels automatically, so I was interested to see how that would work out. Electronic gizmos and gadgets fascinate me, so I couldn’t hardly wait. It was almost like Christmas morning!

At the appointed time, the microwave signaled it was done (with a delightful little tune – none of this old-fashioned ping or ding – the oven called for the chef, like the Piper for the rats (or was it children?)). I pulled the casserole dish out, but what greeted me was not the hot, fresh, delectable meal I had anticipated, but the petrified cremains of a fossilized pterodactyl! From barbecued chicken to chicken terry-bull yucky, in one fell swoop!

Fortunately there were enough other side dishes and options to gnaw on, so we did not go hungry, but I did discern there’s a learning curve that comes with using new equipment. I was not discouraged. I learned a long time ago, when life throws you lemons (or in this case, when life throws you petrified birds), sometimes you’re going to swing and miss, and that’s OK.

Things don’t always work out the way we think they can or should. That’s life. We know all the cliches about getting back on the horse that “throw’d yuh,” or We have to crawl before we walk, or Every journey begins with a single step. 

I suspect those have become cliches because the acts of trying and failing are so common amongst us mere mortals, we need reminding so that we don’t become discouraged. How many filaments did Edison have to try before he found the one that would keep that bulb floating over his head in the comics lit, eh?

I have heated and reheated a number of dishes since my misadventure with the barbecued poultry-geist. None is a culinary masterpiece, of course, but each has been as edible as is possible for a dish that has been zapped. 

Fresh meals are always prepared the old fashioned way – by my wife. Reheats are my specialty; fresh eats are hers.

One of the things I appreciate about new things isn’t just their novelty or newness (although nothing beats the smell of a brand new car). What I like are the challenges they pose in getting to know what they do and how they work. 

The other day I was watching a video by a dude who identifies things he “didn’t know until I was in my thirties.” He showed how the automobile sun visor can extend when turned toward the side window. For decades I have cursed how sun visors would never go where I needed them most. Then he showed me. Duh! He learned that trick forty years sooner than me!

I wonder if that feature is included in the truck’s manual (which I’ve never read).

Live and learn. 

There was a time I would have rather died than admit I didn’t know something. I was terrified that people would think I was as dumb as I often felt. But admitting to myself and others the things I do not know or know how to do has simultaneously given others the relief of knowing they are not the only luddites in this world of ours. 

We are humans, we are finite, and we have more wisdom and experience collectively than we do alone. 

As FDR told us many moons ago, we have nothing to fear but fear, itself. That’s a lesson I need to learn repeatedly, for while a microwave cooks quickly, my brain is a slow cooker. But that’s OK, for I’m no chicken (spring or otherwise) here in this, our 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)

Reflections on a Lost Race

I have taken a week or so to collect my thoughts on the presidential election recently completed. My initial reaction, like the reaction of so many was fear, anxiety, disgust, discouragement, anger, depression, and all the major upheavals that attend a shock to the system. I'm not over it, but enough time has elapsed that I can now reflect on the results with less profanity than I would have otherwise.

John Bradshaw, noted psychologist, has said that emotions are e-motions -- energy in motion, if you will. As giddy as the winning side has been, their euphoria will wear off and they will see the chaos of the next few months and simply assume it is because the "left" is making trouble. They will be partially right. The left will not roll over and play dead. We still love our country and the rule of law, and as bad as the double standard is under which we have increasingly slid, we do have legal options available to us for mounting whatever resistance we can, so let's keep our minds open about that.

Secondly, we can allow our grief to paralyze us, or we can use it to motivate us to do better. That's the direction in which I intend to go.

Thirdly, the one thing I find counter-productive is name calling and blame-fixing. It is cathartic to hurl insults and epithets at those who let us down. I'd even venture to say "they" have earned those insults, slings, and arrows. Never-the-less, as good as that might feel, it won't get us where we want to go, it won't accomplish those things we want to accomplish, and it really won't bring glory to the Name of our God, or bring God's reign to fruition. So let's not waste any more energy there than we need to. Let's move on.

What does it mean to move on? Shall we forget what happened? Live and let live? Run away and hope to fight another day?

No, of course not. Moving on requires a period of self-reflection. It also requires a modicum of bravery on our part. Bravery? Yes, we need to lower our fists and righteous indignation and be prepared to listen. We need to abandon assumptions about the "other" and hear what they have to say, for they, like us, do not believe they have been heard, respected, honored, or understood.

What do we have in common, we and they? Fear. That is our common denominator. Fear. We are afraid (and rightly so) that progress made over the past century will be undone. We fear democracy, as tenuous as it is in the best of times, is even more at risk now. We fear the bloodshed that will take place as bullies and tyrants and the unchecked masses will be (or have been) unleashed on women, the LGBTQI+ community, and more. But how about our neighbors? How about our neighbor? What do they fear?

In speaking with friends and relatives on the right, their fear is that they will not survive another bout of inflation. They are afraid that their hard-earned income is being taxed and handed over to some undeserving poor (or aliens). They are afraid their jobs are in jeopardy and at risk. Fear is an emotion (energy in motion) and will easily override facts and figures. So what can we do? This is not to say they are right, but it is to say this is some of what they fear. They fear for their survival every bit as much as we do for ours, and that is a place in which we may be able to stand together.

I hear them, so it is not enough to tell them to calm down, or assure them they have nothing to fear, or patronize them as if they are silly little twits. In my faith community, we are called (and promise to) "respect the dignity of every person." Their behavior may not be dignified; their words may not be dignified; their attitudes may not be dignified. That's irrelevant. We invite our friends to "come up higher," which is to say we invite them to join us in a place of dignity and grace. We're not interested in winning or losing, but in restoring our relationship(s).

Secondly, we hear their concern and ask them how we can work together to resolve each matter as it is identified. They may well not hear us or answer. They are so entrenched in believing that their "guy" will fix everything like he promised (and they will not believe his previous term gave him enough time to do it, and that 1/6 was justified, and that the election was stolen, etc.). Those "alternative facts" are so engrained in them now, no amount of argument or evidence will sway them, so to try is wasted energy.

That does not absolve us from inviting folks to stand with us as we face the storm together. It doesn't matter who caused the storm. What matters is that we stand together, building and rebuilding faith and trust in one another. As Abraham Lincoln once said, "If we make the enemy our friend, have we not destroyed the enemy in the process?"

As angry as I may be at what has happened, I cannot undo it, nor will I acquiesce or give my assent through the complicity of silence. No, I'll combat evil when I see it; I will point out crimes as they arise (and they are already piling up); I will continue to speak as closely as humanly possible to what I believe Jesus would say as situations arise, and I will leave godly judgment to the One in whose hands such judgment is better suited.

The Rev. Keith Axberg, Ret.

Stuff Happens

 COLLECT for Proper 27

O God, whose blessed Son came into the world that he might destroy the works of the devil and make us children of God and heirs of eternal life: Grant that, having this hope, we may purify ourselves as he is pure; that, when he comes again with power and great glory, we may be made like him in his eternal and glorious kingdom; where he lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

1 Kings 17:8-16 The jar of meal was not emptied, neither did the jug of oil fail

Psalm 146 Put not your trust in rulers … for there is no help in them

Hebrews 9:24-28 Christ entered into heaven … to appear in the presence of God on our behalf

Mark 12:38-44 … they have contributed from their abundance, but she, her life itself

* * * * * * *

It has been quite a roller coaster ride this week, hasn’t it?

We should have known. There were signs and portents, as they say (whoever “they” is).

Monday night I went to warm up some barbecued chicken for dinner. We have a new microwave oven that was just installed. 

Anyway, I put the chicken into the microwave, and I set it to reheat our chicken. The microwave hummed along as the internal computer gave the chicken little pokes with whatever invisible fingers it uses to test the food for doneness, and after a bit we got the little musical tune that told us our meal was done and ready to eat.

We served up and, lo, that delicious, barbecued chicken had been transformed into some inedible, unbreakable stick of petrified pterodactyl – tougher than beef jerky! 

That was my first indication that there might be a bit of a learning curve involved with this newfangled instrument of the devil.

Stuff happens. There was more to our meal than just fossilized chicken, so we made do.

But “stuff” happens. That’s part of life. As Colonel Slade says in Scent of a Woman, “You get tangled up, you tango on.” You figure out “What’s the next indicated thing,” and you do that. 

Tuesday night was like that. Waking up Wednesday morning was like that. The news was devastating and disappointing for so many of us. 

For me, it wasn’t the idea that, “Oh, our side lost.” 

In our lifetimes, we’ve seen elections come and go. Sometimes team Red wins. Sometimes team Blue wins. When the dust settles, folks are sworn in, and although each team might have a different idea of the best way forward, we’ve never really doubted that each side was interested in finding the best way forward for our country. We might quibble over details, but we never doubted each side was interested in “US” as a whole, but it feels like and it looks like we’ve lost that sense of us-ness, the US part of USA, and that’s scary.

That worries me. That bothers me.

The contests have become toxic. It’s like the values we once held most dear have been thrown out the window. Values, like honesty, integrity, faithful adherence to the laws and rules that bind us together. Have they been vaporized or fossilized by some newfangled electoral microwave?

Stuff happens. So what do we do?

This week, I’ve been discouraged, discombobulated, and disoriented. I don’t know about you, but that’s where I’ve been.

To be discouraged is to have the courage sucked out of you. It is the temptation to give up, toss in the towel, and run away. 

Does the Bible have anything to say to us about that? It just so happens, I think we’ve got some helpful pointers in the scriptures we heard this morning – some light shining in the darkness.

In our first lesson, Elijah is sent to the widow of Zarephath, to live there. Elijah will be a stranger in the land – a vagabond, really. 

He will be a foreigner, with an accent that says “I’m not from these here parts.” 

Elijah, the MAN of GOD, will be putting his life into the hands of a total stranger: a poor widow who is down to her last cup of Bisquick and a little vial of cooking oil.

She is as dried up as the sticks she was gathering. “When this is gone, my son and I are dead. Stick a fork in us; we’re done for.”

“Stuff happens,” she says, “and I’m out of stuff.”

Now, Elijah doesn’t know the future, but Elijah knows God. “Stuff happens,” he says, “but as long as I’m here, so is God. You’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.”

There’s a lesson here: When we’re discouraged, we are called to come together, and we remember what Jesus says, “Where two or three are gathered, I’m right there in the midst of you. If you’re going to stick a fork anywhere, make it a pitchfork, and you just stick it in the devil, for it’s the devil who’s done for!” 

Now understand, I’m paraphrasing. But the point is, COURAGE is a matter of the heart. Remember Titanic: La Coeur de Mare – The Heart of the Ocean, the Heart of the Sea.

Courage isn’t bravery as much as it’s having that kindred spirit that says, “You matter to me.” It isn’t about my strength or resources; it’s about our relationship. Sure, we’re scared, but as long as we can ride together, walk together, head out into the darkness together, Jesus says, “Hold hands, don’t let go (like Jack and Rose); take heart, keep moving; I’m there; I’ll be lighting the way.”

Stuff happens. Sometimes we get discombobulated. That’s a fancy way of saying we’ve lost our composure. 

Elijah asks the impossible of the woman of Zarepheth. She gets all flustered, discombobulated. She loses her composure, and that makes perfect sense under the circumstances. 

She has a smidge of meal, a dollop of oil, and a couple of twigs that blew down in the windstorm last week. That’s not even enough for her and her son, let alone three of them. 

Hospitality is important, especially in those dry, desert regions of the Middle East, but the woman loses her composure. She yells at Elijah and tells him just how little she has. She’s discombobulated, and Elijah invites her to draw closer, and he says, “It will be fine. It is more than enough.”

This isn’t one of those mindless promises we use when we whistle our way through the graveyard. You know, when you trivialize a situation (which is to trivialize the person you’re talking to): 

“Now, now, now. You’re just tired. It will be OK. It’s not as bad as you think,” It’s worse when we minimize the pain, or the agony, or the weight of what is happening, and what it means.

It’s not a question of how I feel, or what I’m experiencing: 

Of course I’ll be OK. I’m an old white man. I’ve never been stopped for the color of my skin. The composition of my marriage isn’t up for review. People aren’t going to put “how I identify” under a microscope. My pronouns are safe and secure.

But my children. My neighbor. My friend. The stranger walking down the street. Are they OK? 

So if I want to recombobulate you, like Elijah, I have to listen to the Spirit, I need to be willing and able to leave my own home, my own land, my own people, my own skin, and sit beside you and ask, not “how much have you got?” or “have you got enough,” but “May I share my life with you?”

When the prodigal son comes home, his father sees him afar off, runs to him, wraps him in his arms, and tells his servants to grab his best robe, and put a ring on his finger. 

The child has brought shame to the household, and the neighbors may very well have been ready to stone him (as they might have in that culture – an “Honor” Execution), but his Father wraps him in his arms. His actions say, “This is my son, my beloved. You shall not touch him; you shall not lay a finger on him. His life is mine!”

So like Elijah, no matter how chaotic and scary life out there is, we need to be very clear when we talk to the world: these are my people; this is my family; these are my beloved. You shall not touch them, or hurt them. When stuff happens, we’ll be there.

The third major impact I experienced this past week (and there were plenty more), but the third major issue I struggled with was my equilibrium. I was at a loss, helpless. 

In a word, I was disoriented. Disoriented … My sense of direction had been removed, cut out, lost, thrown away. Orient – the East, the direction of the sunrise. When all is dark, and your view of the sky is obscured, so you don’t know when or where the sun will rise. That’s what it means to be disoriented.

But that changes when I am here. That changes when I come here, to church, into the church. The Altar is in the East. When I am here, I become Oriented once again. The church faces East (in traditional church architecture) so we face Jerusalem, the rising sun and, most importantly, the RISEN Son of God.

We call this space a sanctuary. Holy space. We are in the world, but not of the world. When I’m discouraged, or hurting, or lost, this is where I need to be. I don’t come here to escape the world, but to embrace God and to be embraced by God in the arms of God’s people. 

We are prodigals to one another. We are prodigals to our neighbors. That is our orientation!

We sing our songs, and you know, it doesn’t matter if you can carry a tune or keep a beat, the music lifts up our hearts.  Heartfelt hugs are free for the giving and taking. 

We make our prayers, hear God’s word, receive Bread and Wine that become the Body and Blood of Christ in each and every one of us.

We become re-oriented in our life and mission. We come here and are reminded that we are not Democrats or Republicans here; we are not white, black, brown, or pink; we are not Anglo, Latino, or Ethniticos [sic]; we’re not even Americans here. Here, we are Christians. 

We have been baptized into the Body of Christ, and when we’re done, we are sent forth to minister to world in all its ugliness, chaos, confusion, discouragement,  discombobulation, and disorientation – to be light in the darkness, healing against the hurt, and a comfort against the pain.

We are called to be like the little old lady in the gospel today who waddled up to the big bronze alms basins at the mouth of the Temple. And while the rich and powerful came up and tossed in their bags of gold and silver with great thuds, and thunks, and plinks, and plonks, this little old lady came up and without fanfare, tossed in two coins that were so small they probably didn’t even go “tink.”.

This wasn’t a tithe; it wasn’t a sin offering, or part of her annual pledge. No, Jesus says, “This was her life.” 

“The rich eat the weak for breakfast, the poor for lunch, and widows for supper,” says Jesus. “But this woman, she has given herself over completely to the care and keeping of God.”

That’s how God wants us to be oriented today, when we leave here. ENcouraged, REcombobulated, REoriented, today, and always, in Jesus’ Name. AMEN

Sermon delivered by the Rev. Keith Axberg, to Christ Episcopal Church (Anacortes, WA), 11/10/2024

FIRST BOLD PREDICTIONS for 2025

A SNARKY, SARCASTIC, & GRUMPY-HEARTED VENT

I predict that in 2025, Mr. Sweaty Jiggles (#47) will choose to NOT deport undocumented aliens. 

Instead ...

He will bring suit to the Supreme Court (SCOTUS) asking them to invalidate the 13th, 14th, and 15th Amendments to the Constitution. SCOTUS will agree that they violate the US CONSTITUTION'S "3/5 Person Clause," as well as the intentions of the slave-holding Founding Fathers and Mr. "Immune-from-all-wrongs" JDT.

Undocumented aliens will become Wards of the State, rounded up under the court's doctrines of Stare Decisis and Dred Scott. They will be branded with a big letter T, and auctioned off to the highest bidder(s) by a newly formed corporation: TR*MP HOUSE AUCTIONEERS (THA, Inc). THA will receive 10% auction fee, plus 20% of all profits and residuals earned by branded persons (for the T is (or will be) a licensed trademark).

Income from T branded organizations, businesses, and families shall NOT be taxed as SCOTUS will decide that would violate the Separation of White Powers from their hard-earned properties, and if Congress wants to make money, they will need to find their own sources of graft & corruption, and leave #47 the "hell alone" (majority opinion will be co-authored by Justices Thomas and Alito).

This decision will become a Stare Decisis of the Stare Decisis to the third level, making it irrevocable, unreversible, unappealable. 

New Myths - The Heavy Stone

THE HEAVY STONE

It is said that there is a great chasm between heaven and hell. That's not quite true. There is a wide expanse, to be sure, but it is less a chasm and more of a quaint little valley in which the gods of antiquity have gone to enjoy their retirement.  

Once a year the gods gather for a special luncheon to discuss old times, enjoy the demi-god Olympics on a very big screen monitor (with really nice Surround Sound), and sometimes debate matters of theology.

YHWH takes his place at the head of the table, as one would expect, and always hosts a very divine spread for his gathered guests. 

One day Thor, feeling quite feisty, asked YHWH, "Is it true you are all powerful? Omnipotent?"

YHWH nodded in affirmation.

Thor then winked across the table at Zeus and said, "If you are all powerful, can you create a rock so heavy you can't pick it up?"

YHWH laughed, and the valley shook. "Child's play," he replied.

Thor's face reddened and said, "Then do it! If you are all powerful, how could you make a rock you can't pick up?"

YHWH pointed at a spot below the big television monitor and suddenly a stone appeared about the size and shape of a bowling ball. "There," he said. "Pick it up, if you can."

Thor stormed over and tried to pick up the stone ball, but he could not. Zeus strode over; he tried and likewise failed, as did Athena. Amunet and Osiris of Egypt gave it a go, and failed. Quetzalcoatl and Coatlicue of Mexico likewise could not budge the stone. Shangdi of China took his turn. All failed to budge the stone, let alone lift it.

"It's your turn," challenged Thor to YHWH. "Let's see you pick up a stone so heavy even an all powerful deity cannot pick it up."

"I will do better than that," answered YHWH. I will ask a little old church lady to pick it up." And with that, a little old lady full of wrinkles came riding down the golden escalator from heaven, toddled over to the stone, and picked it up with ease.

All of the major and minor deities in attendance were absolutely gob smacked at the sight.

"How ... how ... how did she do THAT?" asked Thor with a stuttering stammer.

The little old lady looked at Thor with her bright, twinkly blue eyes and said, "When you have been a church treasurer as long as I was in my little parish, you just learn how to do the impossible."

And YHWH roared with laughter.

© Keith Axberg

Are we worse off?

I have already cast my ballot, but here is a run-down of why I voted the way I did.

First, both Social Security and Pensions have increased nicely the past several years under Biden/Harris. DJT/JDV and the GOP want to eliminate or cut Social Security and Medicare/Medicaid, so forget them. Yes, life has been better under the Blue watch, so they got my vote. Also, Harris has a plan to continue funding Social Security for a number of decades. DJT's plan will make SS insolvent within 6 years (or sooner).

Secondly, our grocery bills are pretty much back to where they were when Biden/Harris came into office. Once they got the supply chain issues straightened up (which had been royally screwed by the previous administration (and Covid). Yes, they were higher at first, but are now back to where they were. Lumber prices were high, but are now back to normal. Whatever Biden/Harris have been doing has worked. Blue gets my vote on the basic economy (and I do note the records set by the various market indexes/indices).

Interest rates are coming down, making housing a bit more affordable. Harris/Walz have plans that appear to continue to build or create more affordable housing. DJT/JDV have word salads that don't even begin to resemble concepts of a plan, let alone an actual identified plan. Blues win here, too.

Biden/Harris have rebuilt our relationships with our allies and strengthened NATO. Our "spending" on Ukraine is helping them fight off the Russian invasion, and the money is actually being used to restock our own military inventories. In other words, Ukraine isn't getting our money; they're getting munitions and equipment that has reached their sell-by dates. This is further aiding our national economy. Blues win.

Biden/Harris have had an administration that has experienced no corruption or indictments. From top to bottom, they and their administration abides by the law of the land at every level. The other team has devoted many of their resources (i.e. money their followers have donated) to avoiding accountability for the greatest level of corruption since the days of the robber barons. I'll take law-abiding Harris/Walz over the twice impeached, convicted felon, rapist, etc. Team Blue by a landslide if one is interested in law and order.

Biden/Harris got us out of the longest war in our history with far fewer casualties than we might have endured, despite their predecessors negotiating with the terrorists (without Afghan government input), and releasing 5,000 Taliban fighters, while simultaneously drawing down US troop levels to a level that guaranteed problems with the Biden withdrawal (2,500 troops). Team red loses massively for their lack of integrity and dereliction of duty in this matter. Harris/Walz can be trusted to look out for our national interests and support our allies.

These past 2 summers, we have traveled by car from Washington State to Indiana, and along the Washington/Oregon coast. Our nation's infrastructure is being repaired and rebuilt. The joke that was DJT's "Infrastructure week" is the Biden/Harris reality. Kudos to the Democrats (for the GOP in both houses voted against all infrastructure funding).

Biden/Harris negotiated with big Pharma and have ensured that no one will be left out of the medical care they need. Insulin costs capped. Pre-existing conditions must be covered. Young people remain on parental policies. Medicare can negotiate prices. Affordable Care (Obamacare) continues to operate effectively and efficiently. The GOP wants to return people to being uninsured and/or uninsurable. They have tried to kill the Affordable Care Act countless times. The GOP makes me sick, so I'm voting for Team Blue.

The southern border has been a mess for decades, and the matter of immigration (legal and undocumented) continues to fester. The Democrats basically caved and gave the GOP the Border Bill they wanted (even calling it Bi-Partisan), only to have DJT direct the House GOP to kill the bill. They're obviously not interested in solutions, but keeping the chaos intact for their own benefit. Another reason to vote Blue (and I would suggest Dems hammer out the bill they really want in 2025, since the GOP has no backbone, integrity, or desire to fix anything).

As for Israel and Gaza, all I can say is the region has been a mess for millennia, and neither party has been successful in helping anyone reach a solution (two-state or otherwise). DJT has probably undermined recent efforts as he continues to violate the Hatch Act by negotiating with foreign leaders (Putin and Netanyahu (& others?)). I believe Harris will listen to both Jewish and Arab Americans and work in good faith with every party in the Middle East (and beyond). Blue gets my vote simply for the sake of stability.

Finally, the promise of the GOP for "small government" has been a big lie, big disappointment, and no surprise. The have irreparably messed up women's health care; they have rejected equal rights outright; and they have basically reduced women to about 3/5 personhood. The Democrats want to restore and repair all of the damage the GOP has done at state and federal level, so that's where my vote is going and has gone. I also endorse the John Lewis Voting Rights Act (and all voting right legislation).

Has the GOP done anything right? I've looked under many stones, and will continue to turn them over and let you know if I find anything worth reporting.

Peace.

We're All Heroes

We are all heroes in our own stories. I often wonder how people can think or act the way they do when their words and actions are so different from my own. My lazy ego simply assumes they are, on a positive note, MISTAKEN, or on a negative note, EVIL. Either way, my ego suggests I just dismiss them as I go about my business of being (obviously) RIGHT.

Sadly, I don't like operating from within my ego because, well, I'm not God. It isn't my place to judge another person's words or actions. I can say those aren't right for me, or aren't a good fit for me, but what if they truly believe what they say or do is correct? 

I'm not much of a musician or scientist, but I understand that when one plays chords on a piano or other instrument, that other things in the room will begin to vibrate with those notes or that chord. It is some sort of harmonic or sympathetic resonance at work. I think much the same sort of thing happens with politics. When we hold or have a certain world-view, there is a harmonic "thing" that resonates within us where-in we see, feel, or hear the evidence that supports that world-view. 

It's just as natural as when I clasp my hands together, left thumb on top. It just feels right because that's how I always clasp my hands. When I reverse my hands with the right thumb on top, it feels weird, it feels wrong, it feels uncomfortable, and so my inner voice simply tells me it's wrong to do it that way. There is no empirical reason for it to be "wrong," but it feels wrong for me. The problem arises when I presume to tell someone else it "must" feel wrong for them, too. We are free to clasp our hands however we wish, and there is no moral reason to impose compliance with my preference or yours.

Even freedom is subjective, but I'll save that topic for another time. My focus at the moment is the world of politics and my concern that just as I find DJT (and his ilk) to pose an existential threat to democracy (and can marshal a ton of evidence to support my view), my friends on the right feel just as strongly that Harris/Walz and the democrats are the real threat to democracy. I can (and do) argue that they have failed to identify any evidence to support their perspective, but I cannot change how they feel, for each of us is entitled to how we feel, what we think, and so on.

One thing I do know is that when I find myself to be wrong, when the evidence for my position is wrong (no matter what the subject is), there are two things I can do. One is to rationalize my behavior, blaming others or insisting the evidence of your eyes and ears is wrong. That's called "gaslighting" and I (sadly) confess I have done that in my life. I do it (knowingly and sometimes unknowingly) because my ego is too fragile to admit I was wrong. Over time I have learned to do that less and less.

The other option is to admit the mistake, error, or wrong (confess), apologize (by which I mean to say I will make every effort not to do that again), and make restitution or accept the consequence of my action(s). That's where I believe Jesus calls us to go when we harm ourselves or others.

What I would say to my friends on the Right in this current election cycle is this. Yes, it is possible that Harris/Walz and Democrats are an existential threat, and the price of bread, eggs, and milk may go up more than you would like. That truly affects all of us, and especially the poor. Please understand, though, that the existential threat that DJT/JDV and the GOP pose is just as evident to the rest of us. We simply don't see what you see, or feel what you feel.

Maybe you need to see yourselves as Freedom Fighters. Maybe you see yourselves as Protectors of Democracy. Maybe you see yourselves on the side of Luke Skywalker or the Hobbits. Just bear in mind that we do, too. We believe our evidence is crystal clear. If we are wrong, we can change course in two to four years. If you are wrong, we will be living under martial law with the constitution trampled underfoot. We know, because that is what DJT and MAGA have promised. As much and as often as "they" lie, we believe them when they say it.

That's why I am voting for Kamala Harris, Tim Walz, and all blue down-ballot as well. I ask you to consider doing so as well.

The devil, you say?

 

"Therefore, since we also have such a great cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let’s rid ourselves of every obstacle and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let’s run with endurance the race that is set before us …” Hebrews 12:1 (NASB)

We’re getting close to Halloween once again, and I can’t help but notice all the scary movies popping up all over the place on the various cable, satellite, and streaming services clogging what used to be called the airwaves. I’m not up enough on either technology or science to know how to describe what’s being clogged, but clogged is what it is.

I confess I feel sort of bad for the devil these days. It used to be you could just make fun of the guy in the red jammies, horned tail, and pitch fork. Somehow, the powers to be have put the poor old dufus on steroids in order to sell that hot, smelly mess that is supposed to pass for entertainment.

Yes, some people like to get their adrenaline rush that way, and that’s fine. It’s there for them, and I’m not into censorship. I really do try to mind my own business, because that’s how I was raised. MYOB was held right up there alongside the Golden Rule (Do unto others as you would have them do unto you). I think if people took those two points to heart, we would have much happier neighborhoods.

Getting back to the devil, I think he gets way too much credit for all the bad stuff that happens in our world. He, or his minions, don’t sit atop our shoulders whispering mischievous ideas into our ears. I believe each of us is quite capable of doing bad things on our own without any spiritual help from Old Scratch. He just makes a convenient scapegoat for us when we want to behave like idiots.

When I was a child (uh, oh … here comes the old “back in my day” yarn we old codgers spin as we sit in our rockers on the front porch, chew our ‘baccy, and reflect on current affairs) we kids dressed up, most often in home-made costumes, and made our rounds as cowboys, pirates, fairies, queens or princesses and, occasionally, ghosts and goblins. My grandparents handed out homemade popcorn balls (delicious!) while others handed out apples, walnuts, and (of course) the holy grail of Halloween treats: store-bought chocolates.

The point behind all the dressing up was not the devil, but the saints we’d be honoring on November 1 (the Feast of All Saints, AKA: All Hallows Day). Since we have separation of Church and State in this country (for which I give thanks to God!) most American kids don’t make the connection of Halloween with All Saints, having been indoctrinated with a lie: that the day is all about ghosts, goblins, and things that go bump in the night. 

As always, a day (and evening) that is all about God’s holy (and historical) people  has been turned upside down, twisted inside out, and converted into a day that’s about Bubba in the red pajamas. What balderdash!

There’s nothing I can say or do here that will send us back to the 1950s, convince parents to accept homemade sweets from strangers, or run our treats to the local fire station to have them checked out by metal detectors (like we did during the “razor blades hidden in apples” scare of the mid ‘60s). No, I just want folks to have fun, enjoy the candy holiday, and experience the pleasure of going around dressed up however we like, without being judged.

Our modern Halloween may no longer reflect the religious tradition from which it sprung, but rather than being a scary day, it can be a day wherein we explore tolerance and celebrate diversity. Beneath those costumes beat the hearts of children, not the devil. We deliver unto them good things to eat, not to avoid getting our houses vandalized, but to sweeten the lives of our neighbors.

For the rest of us, Halloween reminds us that, yes, we are dying, but we live; “[we] are reborn through death’s dark night to endless day” (James Quinn). The devil was conquered over twenty centuries ago (from a Christian perspective), so let’s forget the movies and just strive to be the treats God wants us to be. Now that (BOO!) is a scary thought here in this, our 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)

Keep it simple, silly

Proper 23

Collect: Lord, we pray that your grace may always precede and follow us, that we may continually be given to good works; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.

    Job 23:1-9, 16-17 “Oh that I knew where I might find (God)”

    Psalm 22:1-15 “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

  or

    Amos 5:6-7, 10-15 “Seek good and not evil, that you might live ...”

    Psalm 90:12-17 “Show your servants your works,  and your splendor to their children”

    Hebrews 4:12-16 “... let us hold fast to our confession …”

    Mark 10:17-31 “... What must I do to inherit eternal life?”

Give ear O heavens, and I will speak; let the earth hear the words of my mouth, for I will proclaim the Name of the LORD, and ascribe greatness to our God. Dt. 32:1ff

I don’t generally title my sermons, but if I were going to put a title on today’s sermon (something a bit more descriptive than PROPER 23B, my title today would simply be: KEEP IT SIMPLE, SILLY.

And why not?

We humans do like to complicate things, don’t we? 

Is Jesus God or man? Yes. 

Is God one or three? Yes. 

Is this bread and wine or Body and Blood? Yes.

Are we saved or do we need to be saved? Yes.

We struggle in part, I think, because Jesus tended to keep things so simple, so real, that what we strive to do is tame the heck out of what Jesus said and did. We are threatened by his plain, simple, direct call to live differently.

Look at today’s Gospel, for instance. A young man runs up to Jesus, falls on his knees, and asks, “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?”

Jesus does what most Rabbis in his day would do. He stops, listens, and responds, not with an answer, but with a question of his own. “Why do you call me good?” he asks. “Only God is good.”

Jesus keeps it simple by keeping it real. Many of us would be caught up in the flattery of the moment. Who doesn’t like to be complimented? Who doesn’t like to be fawned over? Maybe not a lot, but a little. The down side of flattery, of course, is you wonder, What are they after? Is it real, or are they after something?

Jesus wants to keep it real. Jesus wants to keep it simple. If you want someone’s attention, we flatter them, so the Bible warns us to watch out for people with itching ears, eager to hear you tell them what they want to hear. They’re not interested in the truth, but in their own egos. (2 Tim. 4:3 paraphrased)

Jesus knows the human heart, so he says, “Let’s keep it simple; only God is good.”

“In the beginning when God was creating the heavens and the earth, it was God who identified what was good; God is the source of all that is good. So let’s start there.

“Let’s keep it simple, silly. Let’s dump the flattery and get back to your question: “What must I do to inherit eternal life?”

Jesus answers that question with another question: “You know the Commands, don’t you, about lying, cheating, stealing, killing, adultery, and so on?”

Jesus knows this young man is a fellow Jew, a child of Abraham, a student of Torah, just like Jesus is and was, just like those who followed him, including his disciples. So it is a little strange that this young man would ask the question. If you know who you are, or who's you are, why would you ask?

It has always amazed me in my life and ministry just how often people will say things like, “I hope I’m going to heaven,” or “I hope I’ve been good enough,” or “I hope God will forgive me for things of which I am too ashamed to say.”

Like this young Jewish man, we are children of God, baptized, students of the Bible, children of Abraham through Christ, people who have received Jesus as Savior and Lord. We have everything this young man has, and yet, like him, perhaps we find ourselves wondering, too. Maybe not today, but sometimes. 

My faith comes and goes over time.  Sometimes I’m a Hobbit, sometimes an Orc. Sometimes an Elf; sometimes a Troll. Most of the time I am a mix of all things. So I’m glad to see this young man run up and ask the question I’m often too scared to ask: What must I do to inherit eternal life?

Again, Jesus keeps it simple, keeps it grounded in the faith: “You know the rules, don’t you?”

It’s a simple question; it’s the same question the Lawyer asked Jesus (in Luke), which gave us the Good Samaritan story. “What must I do?” 

“Jesus says, “What’s the Bible say? How do you read it?”

“Love God with all your heart, soul, strength, and mind; and love neighbor as yourself.”

“Cool. Do that and you’ll be fine.”

So simple … at least until you ask, “Who is my neighbor?”

And Jesus keeps that simple, too, with the Priest, Levite, and Samaritan: “Love the one you’d rather be dead than have them touch you.” I mean, anyone can love the Priest and Levite. Even if they pass you by, they must have their reasons; that’s reasonable and forgivable. But the ICK FACTOR guy; him? Yes, him. Simple!

So Jesus asks the young man, and through him, Jesus asks us: “Do you know the rules?”

“Yes, of course,” he says. “I have followed them since the beginning; from the beginning I have lived by the rules.”

And here’s the Good News. Jesus looks at the young man, and Jesus looks at us, and “Jesus loved him; Jesus loves us.”

Jesus keeps it simple, silly. Jesus keeps it grounded, down to earth, as basic as that: I love you!

I should note here that when we see the word INHERIT, it doesn’t mean the future. It refers to having a share in what Jesus has. Like in the story of the Prodigal son, the young man wants his share of the estate. He doesn’t need his father to drop dead; he just wants an advance, which his father gives him.

So THIS young man is asking Jesus, not so much: How do I get to heaven? But how can I have a share in what you have?

He sees something in Jesus that he wants, and I think one reason we gather here week in and week out is because we, too, want to have what Jesus has. 

Church isn’t Fire Insurance, or even Life Insurance. Rather, “we believe that God is healing and restoring the world, and that we are recipients of and participants in that healing and restoration.” (Mission Statement, St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Mount Vernon, WA)

So we want to have what Jesus has. Jesus loved the young man; Jesus loves us, and in answer to the question of the day, Jesus says, “Sell everything you’ve got; give to the poor, and then come follow me.”

We know how that went, don't we? His face fell off, and he went away, literally “grieving” (for he was very well-off). 

Now, I'm tempted to tame this passage. None of us here considers themselves rich. Rich is comparative. Rich is Elon Musk, or Jeff Bezos, or Bill Gates. That’s not us, but let’s not get lost in the weeds. Let’s keep it simple. In our world, in our time, amongst 7 billion people, we are rich, you and I. We are. It’s not a feeling; it’s an objective reality, so let’s not try to sugar-coat the Gospel.

Let’s be careful and let’s not try to tame this passage. God is not a Lion to be tamed.

We want to say Jesus didn’t mean it, or he was obviously exaggerating, or something like that. And certainly there is hyperbole involved. Yes, he may very well have been exaggerating, but we’ll never know, because the young man didn’t stick around to ask him: What on earth do you mean by that?

I think Jesus would have said, “It’s not a question of what you have, but what you do. Moses says (Dt. 15:7): “If there is among you anyone in need, do not be hard-hearted or tight-fisted toward your needy neighbor.” 

And Isaiah says, “Share your bread with the hungry, bring the homeless poor into your homes, and when you see someone naked, cover them up …” (58:7).

Are you nervous yet? 

Jesus says, “Keep it simple, silly. If you want your share of eternal life, let go of what’s got you stuck. 

Maybe you’re a tight-wad. Let it go. 

Maybe you’ve got resentments. Let them go. 

Maybe you hate the poor – you see them as a drain on society. So what? God sends us to help them.  We are God’s hands and feet and eyes and ears … and heart!

Maybe you're jealous of the rich and powerful! They’re easy to hate, but they answer to God, not to us, so ignore the Nimrods. 

Maybe you’re not feeling as loved as you need to feel? So get out there and find ways to love your neighbor! It really is as simple as that!”

Eternal life isn’t just pie in the sky in the great by and by. It’s right here, right now. Your job, my job, our job is to figure out for ourselves just what on earth is holding us back, and let it go.

You know, in AA and other 12 Step groups, they say there is only one thing one needs to do if they want to experience the life of freedom that those in recovery have discovered. There is only one thing folks need to change.

What is that one thing? Everything.

If we want life to change, just change everything, and it will be different.

“You can try threading a camel through the eye of a needle,” says Jesus, “but you’ll probably die laughing.” 

So keep it simple, silly. Let go, and let God – and eternal life will be yours, and ours, right here, right now. It really is that simple.

Sermon delivered to Christ Episcopal Church (Anacortes, WA) 10/13/2024 – The Rev. Keith Axberg, Ret.

Leaves of Gold, Joints of Rust

 

"Since there will never cease to be some in need on earth, I therefore command you, ‘Open your hand to the poor and needy neighbor in the land.’” Deuteronomy 15:11

The leaves are falling. Slowly, but surely, they’re making their descent from the limbs and branches of the trees and shrubs in our yard and in the world around us.

There’s a side of me that would like them all to drop before going out and doing my fall “cleanup,” but I am at the age where tackling life a day at a time is a bit easier and (possibly) wiser. So each day the little lady and I go out into the yard and scrape up a few leaves, digging them out of the cracks and crevasses of the walls that terrace our yard. We pull the weeds that dare to grow within an arm’s length of those retaining walls, and generally try to just keep the yard presentable for passers-by.

We don’t do as much yard-work as we would like to (using the term “we” quite loosely). Our property is fairly large, but the lingering effects of our bouts with Covid several years ago and the increasing numbers of trips around the sun have both taken their toll. That’s OK, though. We’re both ambulatory, for the most part. It just takes a little longer to do some things, and I still prefer weeds to grow knee high so I don’t have to reach down so far to pull them.

Fortunately, we have a couple of young lads that do the lion’s share of work around the yard. They’re young, strong, nimble, quick, alert, attentive to details, and dependable. On top of all that, they enjoy doing the work they do! Consequently, I find it a joy to pay them for their labor, and pay them well.

I don’t say that to brag or to boast. Paying people a decent wage is nothing to boast about. In fact, it is a pleasure, an honor, and a privilege to be able to share some of the shekels & ducats that have come our way over the years. 

“A laborer is worthy of his hire,” says the Bible (1 Tim 5:18). Elsewhere, Jesus tells the story of the landowner who makes sure everyone in the community has an opportunity to labor in his field, and he makes sure each receives a proper wage. I don’t usually do biblical exposition in these columns, but will say the point of that story is the welfare of the community. 

The laborers do their work and the landowner provides from out of his purse that which is needed to strengthen and support the community. The workers don’t have to pry the coins from his cold dead fingers. He opens his hands and freely shares with everyone, just like the Bible tells him to, just like his heart tells him to!

Jesus is also clear, of course, that we need to be careful about not parading our piety around to be seen by others, or to have our backs patted by others, so it is certainly with some fear and trepidation that I even tell you what I do. But I also think we each lead by example. It’s important to not just “talk the talk” but to “walk the walk,”  if you’ll pardon the cliche.

Amy-Jill Levine, in her book “short stories by jesus” [sic] reminds her readers (p. 236) that “Jesus is neither a Marxist nor a capitalist. Rather, he is both an idealist and a pragmatist. His focus is often less directly on ‘good news to the poor’ than on ‘responsibility of the rich.’”

Few of us feel “rich,” and yet in a world of seven or eight billion people, we Americans are very rich. We don’t need to squander what we have, but neither should we live in miserly fear.

“Thoughts and Prayers” for the world around us is just meaningless noise. “Strengthen the hands that are slack; make firm the tottering knees! Say to the anxious of heart, ‘Be strong, fear not; Behold your God!’” (Isaiah 35:3) Now THAT is a biblical prayer!

I believe those who are generous of heart have beheld God. More than that, they’ve given the poor a chance to see and know God through their actions, as well. God, as they say, loves a cheerful giver, so cheer up you here in this, our 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)

Life is a web of intrigue

 

"Laws are like spider’s webs: if some poor weak creature come [sic] up against them, it is caught; but a bigger one can break through and get away." Solon of Athens (ca. 640 BCE)

The season of the spiders is upon us. The weather’s turned chilly, so creepy crawly things are making their way inside to take up residence. If I can catch them, I try to put them outside first; after all, it isn’t their fault they’re coming in out of the weather. We all do that!

I used to be deathly afraid of spiders. I still remember putting on my shoes for school one morning eons ago, and just as I picked up one of my tennies, this huge hairy scary spider leapt out of it, up onto the tongue, seemingly wondering just what I thought I was doing disturbing their home. It gave me such a fright that I still, to this day, shake my shoes out before putting them on.

As I recall I let out a very unmanly scream (I think I was about ten or twelve years old), flung the shoe away at something approaching light speed, and discovered that spiders are somewhat like china. You know, you have a set of china sitting on a table, and if you whip the tablecloth away quickly enough, the china stays put. Well, so did the spider.

Fortunately, by then my arms and legs had become cartoonish wheels, making a whirling dervish of their owner, and by the time I slowed down enough to avoid coming totally apart at the seams, the spider had made its way from this human twister, to finding a new, dark, and quiet place in which to go spin itself a fresh web.

I’m less frightened of spiders now. I exercise due care and caution around them, but I still experience a jolt of adrenaline when I find myself walking through a web strung between a couple of bushes or trees outside. 

But rather than freezing in terror, I find myself looking at the intricacies of those arachnid belay lines and wonder to myself, “How on earth did they get this web strung horizontally between two trees, that many feet apart? Do they lick their little paws, hold them up to test the wind, and let fly with a web when the wind is going their way? Do they stick one end of the web to a branch and go all Tarzan, yodeling from one tree to the next?” 

I guess it doesn’t matter, but it’s asking questions that intrigue me these days. I think we often underestimate the importance of questions. When we’re children, we’re curious about the world. We touch, feel, and taste everything within reach and learn quite quickly what hurts, tastes, or smells yucky. As we get older, we ask fewer questions. That’s too bad. 

I ask questions more and more in my dotage. Some are quite challenging, like why did I go into the kitchen or out to the garage. Others simply spark my curiosity about life, and nature, and why things are the way they are.

Questions no longer frighten me. As a student, I was always afraid I’d get answers wrong. Sometimes my fear was well-founded. But life isn’t about having all the right answers, but asking the right questions, and working together to find our way forward. We need not fear the questions, nor need we fear the answers. We only have to trust that the answers will reveal themselves if we keep our eyes and ears open.

In the end, it is enough to delight in the intricacies of nature, and marvel at the world around us. Just watch out for webs, though. It’s the season of the spiders here in this, our 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)

Ensuring Domestic Tranquility

"Half of the harm that is done in this world is due to people who want to feel important." T.S. Eliot

I would love to think I am an observant person, but I know I am not. At least not by nature. I can pay attention when I want to. I am punctilious when it comes to finances and balancing my checkbook. I once had a parishioner who was a retired banker. 

He said, “When I worked at the bank, every teller had to balance out at the end of the day to the penny. Now if they’re within ten bucks, they’re satisfied.” 

It drove him nuts. It would bug me no end, too. It isn’t that I am perfect. Far from it. But if there is an error, I like to know where it is. I don’t mind correcting mistakes, and am always perplexed by folks who cannot admit to their own errors or limitations. There’s nothing wrong with being human.

Being human means we don’t know everything. I sometimes mis-speak. I sometimes lose my place. I was covering for our priest last Sunday while he was away, and as I was engaged in conducting the Mass, I lost my place. I’ve been doing this for forty years, but suddenly, my mind wandered for a split second as I elevated either the bread or the wine, and as I set it back on the altar, closing my eyes whilst reverencing God, I found myself lost in the mystery of it all. 

I opened my eyes and that etch-a-sketch I call my brain was blank! I looked at the altar missal and couldn’t remember if I had lifted the bread or the wine. I couldn’t remember if I had been reciting the prayer from the left or the right hand page or from which paragraph I’d been working, or where on the page I’d been reading!  I was flummoxed, baffled, and bewildered.

Bewildered. What a wonderful word. I was lost in the wilds of our worship. I was also thoroughly embarrassed to have this many years of experience and to find myself so lost in the liturgy, even if only for a moment. Swallowing my pride, I simply picked up where I’m sure I left off, and “got ‘er done, dude” as the Duke might have phrased it.

Life goes on. I don’t know of anyone who wants to see perfection in their neighbor. Those who act perfect are truly acting. Those who look so sharp or lovely on the outside are often just as goofed up on the inside as the rest of us mere mortals. 

Humility isn’t about being “less than,” of course. It is about being “right sized” (as a friend explains it). Maybe I can’t do everything, but I can do something. I can’t do everything perfectly, but I can do what I can do to the best of my ability. Humility, it is said, is not about mediocrity. It is somewhat ironic that both pride and humility, properly understood, are about feeling good with the results of what one has done. We don’t want to confuse pride with arrogance, nor do we want to confuse humility with worthlessness. 

Sometimes people wonder what God’s plan for them is. I’ll admit I don’t belong to that school of thought. I don’t believe God has a specific plan written up for each and every one of us. I don’t believe God works that way. I believe God is sometimes absolutely shocked by some of the things we say and do to one another. 

I do not believe God witnesses domestic abuse, children and teachers shot and killed in school, hostages murdered by terrorists, and assorted acts of genocide, famine, and warfare taking place across this globe, and then responding, “Right on time. I love it when a plan comes together.”

What I do believe is that we are created in the image of the Divine, called to love and care for one another and the planet we inhabit, and work to relieve suffering, ensure domestic tranquility, strive for justice, and leave the earth a better place than when we arrived. IF there is a “God’s plan,” then I would suggest that might be it.

Of course, that’s just my humble opinion here in this, our 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)

The Far better thing we do

 

"Cruelty cannot stop the earth’s heart from beating" Evelyn Coleman

I do not make it a habit of pontificating from this column. Life is tough and divisive enough; I really want this space to be an oasis of safety and calm. I want it to be a ray of sunshine when things are gloomy, or a drop of oil when life gets squeaky. Anyone who reads my column can probably figure which way I lean in terms of politics and religion, although if we sat down and chatted over a cup of coffee or tea, I suspect there would be some surprises to be had on both fronts. 

I began writing these little “faith and value” columns in 2007 when the editor of the Madera Tribune (in California) asked me if I wouldn’t do something like that for his readers. I’d never had trouble expressing my faith and perspective to the folks in the churches I’d served, but I wasn’t sure how to approach the task of speaking to a wider, more diverse audience. I'm thankful that Suzanne and the Madisonian have allowed me to continue sharing these thoughts here.

I was (and am) an evangelical at heart, by which I mean one who shares good news. I am saddened by those who use the term evangelical to sell their religion or God. The heart of the Good News (as I see it) is this: God loves. Period. Full stop.

God loves creation; creation is diverse; God loves diversity. God loves humanity; God loves you (and me) in all our diversity and weirdness. Why? Because God loves. Period. Full stop.

My goal for these past seventeen years of writing columns on a weekly or biweekly basis has been to share some of the silly things I see and experience in life. They’re generally situations that teach me something about God and/or our lives together. 

I have a somewhat offbeat sense of humor that can be grating for some. I had one parishioner who particularly objected to either the sound of my voice or the content of my preaching – and yes, it bothered me, but do you know what? God loves her, just as God loves me. We are both part of that whacky family God put on earth to take care of one another, so we did, and we do.

So I share my thoughts and insights as best I can, keeping them relatively general, but applicable for the most part. One may find themselves changing their mind about something every now and then, but my goal isn’t to change minds, but to invite folks to join me as I turn over some of the rocks I stumble over, and explore, with fascination, some of the wildlife we see scurrying out from under those dark and damp places.

If there is a change I would like to see in the world, it isn’t for everyone to look, act, feel, and think like me, but for folks to simply be a little kinder and gentler when dealing with one another. None of us knows what another person is going through, so why not extend them a bit of grace, even if they’re behavior is weird?

The one place I do draw the line is with rudeness or cruelty. One can be having a terrible, no good, horrible day and still dance to the tune of their better angels. 

Abuse is a choice. Rude is a choice. Violence is a choice. Lying is a choice. Stealing is a choice. So are their counterparts. Compassion is a choice. Politeness is a choice. Peace is a choice. Truth-telling is a choice. Honesty is a choice.

Very few of us will ever have to make the ultimate sacrifice for things we truly believe in, but sometimes it is enough to just do the little things that make a difference for the world around us. Those little things add up. While I’m not in any hurry to get there, I want to go to my grave with that wonderful line from Charles Dickens: “It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest I go to than I have ever known.”

The far better thing for me is love; God’s love. Peace; God’s peace. Kindness; God’s kindness. I truly thank you for joining me as we continue this journey together here in this, our 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)

To whom should we turn?

Proper 16, Year B Sermon: To whom should we turn?

Grant, O merciful God, that your Church, being gathered together in unity by your Holy Spirit, may show forth your power among all peoples, to the glory of your Name; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Joshua 24:1-2a,14-18 “As for me and my household, we will serve the LORD.”

Psalm 34:15-22 “The LORD is near the brokenhearted …”

Ephesians 6:10-20 “Put on the whole armor of God …”

John 6:56-69 “It is the Spirit that gives life.”

It’s good to be home. I know this isn’t our home parish (not officially, anyway), but for 40+ years, whenever Barb and I have come back to Federal Way to visit, this is where we’ve come to worship and, on occasion, celebrate the Holy Eucharist with you.

We’re living in Mount Vernon now, having retired and settled there some 7 years ago, and although she can’t be with us this morning, I was so pleased when Terry Elofson invited us to come and be with you this morning.

Episcopalians are called people of the Book. People of the Book. Sometimes I think we should be called people of the library, because it’s not unusual to see prayer books and hymnals and song books and books of alternative services and bibles in our pews. We can’t help it. 

Our is a tangible faith. Earthy. Touchy. The things we do as clergy are called Manual acts. Holding the Gospel as we process. Lifting the bread at the altar, and the alms, and the wine. We ring bells and in some places we add in the smells. We stand, sit, kneel. Our faith is triune: Spirit, Soul, AND Body.

Every place has the way it does things. We’re not idol worshipers, but we also don’t want to see our furniture moved too much, or the liturgy changed too much, or too many unfamiliar hymns added to the mix, do we?

We love our scriptures, although we probably don’t memorize them like some folks do. And yet I’ll bet each of us here has a favorite verse or two we can draw on if we need it. What are some of your favorite passages?

(Let people share their favorites)

As you might guess, I’ve got a few favorites, too.

In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth …

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want …

    For God so loved the world …

    The wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life …

    A couple of my favorites are in the lessons for today.

In the first reading, Joshua says, “... as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.”

What’s that all about? 

The children of Israel have reached the banks of the Jordan River. They have spent 40 years in the wilderness. The generation that left Egypt has died away for all intents and purposes, and the people are ready to move into the Promised Land.

But do you know what? When you look through their backpacks, their carry-ons, suitcases, and bedrolls, they’ve hung onto their family heirlooms. They’ve kept their gods. They haven’t really given up the past.

You know, we don’t give up the past, really. We don’t turn our backs on it. But our past tends to hang onto us. 

Joshua says, “We’ve got a choice to make. YHWH says we can hang onto those chains we dragged out of Egypt and return to slavery, or we can move forward, and experience a life of freedom, and peace; a land so rich and full that our neighbors can eat off the gleanings from our fields.

This is a struggle we all have. It doesn’t matter how great or horrible the past has been. We want to hang onto it. Sometimes there’s sentimental value there, but sometimes there are painful memories we just can’t let go. People who’ve hurt us, or let us down. 

Joshua says, “You can hang onto those, if you wish. Just remember they will be the master, and you will be the slave, and you will never know what Adonai has in store for you. As for me and my household, we’re going to let go and let God.”

I think that’s an important verse for churches in transition, but really, it’s for all of us. I like Joshua’s invitation. “Do what you want, but for me, let’s see what God has in store.” It’s forward looking; it’s hopeful.

The other passage that strikes me is the line from Peter in the Gospel. Jesus has hit a snag in his ministry and many of his followers were deserting him. Jesus asks the Twelve: “How about you? Are you going to abandon me, too?”

I don’t know if we realize just how profound a question that is. I don’t know of anything more terrifying or harmful to the human psyche than what happens when we are abandoned. 

I was 9 years old when I came home from school and asked my brother where Mom was. He said, “She’s not here. She’s gone.” 

“What do you mean she’s gone?” I asked, and he said, “She’s left. Mom and Dad are getting a divorce.”

I’d had no inkling our biological mother would abandon the family without saying good-bye. I assumed it was all my fault, of course, because that’s what we do; that’s what kids do. “In the absence of information, children will always fill in that blank to their own detriment,” says John Bradshaw, a family therapist and author.

So when I see Jesus ask the question, “Will you leave me, too?” That’s heartbreaking, isn’t it? 

And in that scary, heart-breaking moment, Peter pipes up, and for once he’s not playing the fool.

Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and know that you are the Holy One of God.”

We’ve left our chains in Egypt. We’ve left Torah on Mount Sinai. We have made our choice to come and follow you. Why? Because we have come to believe that you are the Holy One of God.”

In other words, in YOU we have hope; we have a hope-filled future.

We live in a world where people are afraid. We’re afraid of war. We’re afraid of famine. We are (many of us) a paycheck or two from becoming homeless. We are reaching an age (many of us) where a catastrophic illness could destroy us and everything we worked for. 

And you know, we’re not miracle workers in that sense of turning water into wine, or walking on water, or having the storms of life shut up just ‘cause we say so. But we are miracle workers if we open our eyes and ears to our neighbors and respond to them as the loving eyes and ears of Jesus. 

Like Jesus, we can embrace those who are unclean, unloved, perhaps even “unloveable,” because while they may be unclean or worthless to the world, they are God’s precious little ones. They are worthy of our time, our attention, our love, and our care – just like they were worth it to Jesus.

Jesus did not institute a sacrament as much as a vocation and a challenge. “Will you take me in, in such a way that where you go, I will go, also?”

That’s what Jesus wants. That’s what Jesus is looking for.

I said earlier that we are people of the Book, but really, we are people of the author, Jesus Christ, himself. 

As John said at the beginning of the Gospel that bears his name: In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word WAS God. He was with God in the beginning … in him was life, and that life was the light of humanity.”

May he be our life, our Bread of Life, our Cup of Salvation, as well. Amen

Sermon delivered to St. Matthew’s (Browns Point, Tacoma, WA) 08/25/2024

The Rev. Keith F. Axberg, Retired

Hear ye, hear ye, hear ye

 

"Whoever has ears to hear, let them hear." Mark 4:9

One of the joys of reaching my mid-70s (in age, if not IQ) is checking out the local paper and confirming that I still haven’t made the obituaries. “I’m on the green side of the grass,” as the local yokels put it. True enough, and I’m still in fairly decent health, all things considered.

Not everything has weathered the years as well as I have. Over the past few months, and perhaps years, I’ve noticed that my television is having a harder time making itself heard and understood. Where I could watch most shows set between twelve and fifteen on the volume meter, I’ve had to crank the beast up into the low twenties lately. 

A few weeks ago I bought some electronic devices that are supposed to keep deer out of the yard by making a shrill sound (that is technically above human hearing). I set them up and watched several deer wander through the yard anyway, chewing on some of our greenery all around my ultrasonic deer-blasters. It made me wonder if they even work, but if the sound is above our listening range, how would we ever know?

Then our yard lads came by to mow and trim and asked about the deer units. I explained what they are, and Zach, the older of the two said, “Boy, they’re pretty loud. I’m surprised they don’t bother the deer.” They then got back to mowing and trimming with machines that I COULD hear.

I found myself pondering the imponderable. Is it possible my own hearing acuity isn’t what it once was? As silly an idea as that seemed, I decided to make an appointment with my family doctor and have my hearing tested. Dr. Aulakh tapped a tuning fork and placed it atop my skull, testing for bone conduction of sound. I heard the tone in my left ear, but not my right. “The good news is that I am only half a numbskull,” I exclaimed. She did not disagree with my diagnosis.

“This was just a crude test,” she said, “and it does seem you have some significant hearing loss (probably age related), so she helped me make a follow-up appointment with Dr. Hannah Carlson, one of the audiologists in the regional medical group. Dr. Carlson sat down with me to discuss activities of daily living, my hopes, concerns, and goals. She explained that hearing aids can’t restore lost hearing, but can certainly help a person hear better and understand what they’re hearing more clearly. 

After she hooked me up in the sound-proof room and ran a battery of tests (so she said, I didn’t hear everything she was apparently throwing at me), she showed me a chart that indicated that my hearing loss is between mild and moderate, and mainly in the high range of sounds. 

She suggested I was a good candidate for hearing aids and explained that as people lose their sense of hearing, they tend to isolate themselves. Early hearing aids were designed to make sounds louder (volume), but today’s aids are geared toward shifting sound to levels the wearer can hear better and with better clarity. “They can also help slow down cognitive decline,” she explained, “as the brain is stimulated by sound. As we go deaf, the brain loses the stimulation and begins to atrophy, in a sense.”

The idea that I might need hearing aids does not bother me. I have walked into homes with the television cranked up on full, and occupants unaware it was even on. Our own television has a lot of capacity left for going loud(er), but I am already bothered with the challenge of finding a balance between volume set for dialogue and volume set for commercials, and volume set for special effects, explosions, and dramatic/soaring musical scores. If hearing aids can help me save my cognitive levels and my wife’s sanity, I’m all for getting them!

After all, Jesus said, “Let those with ears to hear, hear,” (to which I reply, here here!).

They are on order, and I hope to provide you with a progress report as I continue this journey. Here’s to hearing here in this, our 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)