Wednesday, May 22, 2024

For Our Graduates & Graduates-to-be


The author putting away books in the Textbook Store Room at Ballard High School (ca. 1967-69), Photo credit: Gary Sly

Consider it a pure joy, my friends, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Bible (James 1:2-3)

As we approach the end of yet another school year, I can’t help but imagine how much joy and sorrow the Class of 2024 must be experiencing. On the one hand, they are approaching their final exams, and that is always quite stressful – a do or die time; and then there is the question for many of what to do this summer and for the rest of their lives.

I look back over the decades that separate me from the academic and vocational graduations I have gone through and I know there is no way I could have imagined or predicted the path my life would have taken, the places I would have seen, the people I would have met, the things I would have accomplished, and the areas in which I would have been a dismal failure.

It would be easy to get caught up in the misery of those failures, those places where we’ve hurt others by things done and left undone, said and left unsaid; it would be equally easy to ignore those painful memories, to gloss over them as matters we can do nothing about, so “move on.”

Neither option is good, however. It does no good to get bogged down by things we cannot change; but neither does it behoove us to bury them, for a burial does not lay to rest as much as it plants a mine. We never know when someone will step on it (or in it) and the damage that will be done when it explodes.

Socrates once said, “The unexamined life is not worth living.” He was on trial for teaching that people should challenge the accepted beliefs and ideas of the age. He was not promoting anarchy, but rather was advocating for the careful, methodical, and thoughtful examination of evidence – testing one’s beliefs, as it were.

His advice for society is also good for the individual: Put life to the test, not to break it, but to prove it. That is the purpose of testing, you know; not to break things, but to prove them. Students and pupils are given tests to help determine whether or not they have mastered the material they’ve been given.

It isn’t the material that is important (we’ve always got the Internet to fall back on, don’t we?). There is no shortage of material. What is important is learning what to do with the material we have.

When we fail, it is more important than ever to face it honestly and ask ourselves what happened so that we can figure out what we might need to do differently in order to prevent repeating that lack of success. We don’t need to hide our shame, for there is nothing shameful about falling down. The shame is found in doing the same thing over and expecting different results (a colloquial definition of insanity).

Tests are simply challenges we face which help us determine where in life we need to grow, change, or improve.

If I was to offer this year’s graduating class any advice (and admittedly, they’ve not asked) I would simply suggest that they not take themselves so seriously that they fail to enjoy the life they’ve got.

Work hard, but don’t be obsessive about it. Figure out what you’re doing right, and stick with it. Figure out what’s not working for you, and let it go. Listen to your friends, but listen to yourself as well; go with your gut. On those rare occasions when your gut’s wrong, admit the mistake, fix the damage, make amends, and move on.

If and when you feel trapped by life or life’s circumstances, pray for freedom – by which I mean freedom from fear. Experiment carefully, experience freely, and look for the dream that might well be eluding you. It is there; maybe you need to listen for it, more than look for it, but that’s OK. Use all of the senses God gave you – including Common Sense.

Life is full of tests, but there’s nothing to fear, for God is with us every step of the way in this, our valley. Congratulations Class of 2024; test your footing, and Go (courageously) in Peace!

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)


Monday, May 13, 2024

SEVENTH SUNDAY OF EASTER

A sermon delivered to Christ Church, Anacortes, WA 

Collect:

O God, the King of glory, you have exalted your only Son Jesus Christ with great triumph to your kingdom in heaven: Do not leave us comfortless, but send us your Holy Spirit to strengthen us, and exalt us to that place where our Savior Christ has gone before; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, in glory everlasting. Amen.


There’s a lot going on today. Today is Mother’s Day, of course. It’s not a day you’ll see on the Church Calendar; it’s an American holiday. But we recognize the importance of being nurtured when we come into this world, whether we are nurtured by our mothers or fathers, aunts, grandparents, caring teachers at school, foster parents, Sunday school teachers.

People who care for us, who watch over us help us understand a little something about the nature of God. After all, since we were created in the image of God, there is something we can learn about God from one another.

Scientists, psychologists, and medical professionals all confirm the importance of our bonding from the time we are born, or maybe even from the time we are conceived; how important that is for our physical and for our mental health and emotional well-being. How we bond with one another helps us understand how we can bond with God.

If you’ve been to California and visited the Redwood forests and walked around the Giant Sequoias, you’ve no doubt been impressed by how large and tall those trees are. What’s amazing, though, is how shallow their roots are. You would think those massive trees must have an equally massive taproot reaching down towards China or Australia to handle the physics of standing upright, but they don’t. Those massive trees send their roots out sideways, and they intertwine with the roots of their neighbors so that they stand, not alone, but in community. They support one another so that even when those powerful storms blow in off the Pacific, they’re able to stand tall, because they stand together.

It’s always dangerous to speak in generalities, because there are always exceptions. We’re old enough here where many of our mothers have gone or passed away. There are children in our community waking up on Mother’s Day where they know Mom was murdered; others where their Moms are incarcerated; others where their Moms have abandoned them. We live in a broken world. 

We know that; God knows that, too.

There are probably a lot of Hallmark Mothers in our community (and a lot of them are here, too, as we speak), but there are also enough exceptions that we need to be careful. So we honor our mothers, but we do so honestly.  Each of us has a story to tell. Some of us grew up with stable homes; others not so stable. 

Jesus was blessed to have a Mother and two fathers. Sure, he was born in a barn, but maybe that’s how he turned out so stable, eh?

So we honor mothers, but especially the nurturers. However God fashioned them for us, whether they have a biological tie to us or not; it doesn’t matter – we honor them. We honor those who bore us, who raised us up, who nurtured us, who took care of us, who watched over us.

I can still remember walking to school by myself for the first time. My mother would walk me to school every day throughout kindergarten and on into 1st Grade. It was a bit of a hike. We were on the edge of the boundary for Whittier Elementary. It was uphill in both directions, of course, and we had to cross 15th Avenue, which was a pretty busy street, even in the mid-1950s.

One day Mom told me I was old enough to go to school on my own. I knew the way, but the idea of making that trip all by myself was pretty scary. As you can probably tell, I made it. I knew the way. I knew how to look both ways before crossing the street. I knew to cross 15th at the light at 80th. It was better to cross there so I wouldn’t have to walk past a couple of sleazy establishments  further down the road.

I was pretty much of an airhead as a young lad. Today, I’d probably be called ADHD, but back then I was just an absent-minded youngster making my way to school, oblivious to the world around me. I don’t know if she ever followed me those first few days I went to school solo, but even if Mom wasn’t with me physically, she was with me in the confidence I had to make that journey. 

I think Jesus gave his disciples confidence for their journey. He sent them out 2 x 2 during his ministry with them. Like Mom, when they came back, he asked them, “How was it?” 

When they told him how excited they were, how people were healed, and helped, and demons cast aside, you could see Jesus bursting with a Momma’s pride, “You done good, guys and gals. You done good!”

Today is the seventh Sunday of Easter. We’re in the middle of that ten day period we call Ascensiontide. It’s that scary little gap between Jesus going home and God’s Spirit pouring down upon us. 

For me, the Ascension isn’t as much about Jesus heading home to God, but Jesus letting go of us, just like Mom let go of me those many years ago.

Another story – another image.

There’s a priest over at St. Paul’s in Mount Vernon who has a hawk (Elrond). He takes the hawk down to the valley to fly loose. That way Elrond gets to stretch his wings, exercise, and do what hawks do (as raptors).

One day a few months back, Elrond decided he didn’t want to come back to Paul. He wanted his freedom. He didn’t come when called; he ignored the lures and the wounded rabbit noise-maker. 

Every day for a week or two, Paul went down to the valley, hiking, seeking, calling for Elrond. He could see his beloved hawk up in the trees, totally ignoring him. But then, one day, Elrond apparently had finally had enough of freedom. The hawk decided that life in the wild wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Elrond came home, much to Fr. Paul’s great delight.

The story of the Prodigal son comes to mind, doesn’t it? We rejoice when our kids come home, don’t we? So does God, our Prodigal mother!

Another story – another image.

Many years ago when our son was only about 4 years old, we went down to WSU to watch the Cougars take on the Oregon Ducks at Martin Stadium. During the game, our son needed to use the restroom, so (of course) I took him. When he was done, it was my turn and I told him to wait for me, but when I turned around he was gone. In a sea of 35,000 souls, I’d lost our first-born male heir! I’ll be honest; I wasn’t as worried for him as I was about what Barb would do to me for losing him in the first place! Fortunately, he’d simply gone straight back to where his mother was sitting and waiting (so I didn’t have to tell her I’d lost him). But I told her, and we laughed about it.

God knows we’re human. God knows we sometimes get lost or confused. God knows we sometimes worry more about our own skin than that of those we’re called to love and care for. Acknowledging our faults draws us closer to one another. Making amends heals our relationships with God and with one another.

So what are we doing here today?

Jesus ascends to his Father and says to the Disciples, “Wait here. Don’t worry. I won’t leave you without One who will strengthen you and remind you of everything I taught you.”

That’s the Christian Faith in a nutshell, isn’t it? We aren’t alone in this. 

Even when Jesus is out of sight, we’ve still got him here ♥️. We don’t look both ways before crossing the street because them’s the rules, but because our parents live inside of us; they’re guiding us from within, so we’re not even really aware of their presence, but we are living out of their presence.

In the Gospel, we find Jesus praying. His prayer boils down to this: “Father, I’ve done my best. What you gave to me, I have given to my disciples, and what I have done, they are doing. You will be more than pleased by their work. They will bring honor and glory to your house and make you proud!”

It is that confidence I find striking in the Gospel today. It’s the confidence Jesus has in us to do the right thing. What is the right thing?

What does God require of us? The prophet Micah says: “To be just and fair, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with God.”

When the student of the Law asked Jesus what he needed to do to inherit eternal life, what did Jesus say? “To love God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength; and your neighbor as yourself.” 

When the lawyer said, “Yeah, I’ve done all that. Anything else?”

Jesus answered him: “Yeah, don’t be so stingy.”

Now, we can get all caught up on the details, like Peter asking how often we should forgive (70 times 7!), or like the lawyer who asked, “Oh yeah, and who on earth is ‘my neighbor’?” (The one you'd rather be dead than let them touch you).

But the bottom line in every case is the same: “Are the words of this mouth and the meditation of this heart pleasing to God?” When an opportunity arises to be fair, to be loving, to be merciful, to be humble, to be kind – are we? 

Do the words that come out of our mouths and the things we do with our hands and feet bring glory to God, or something less?

On those rare occasions I committed some great transgression, my mother’s response was almost never to scold, but to say, “You can do better,” or “You know better than that.” I think God is a lot like that. I think we greatly overestimate how many handbaskets God owns, to send us packing to the hot spot. 

I believe God has one handbag and is determined to bring us all home in it. I think that’s the point Jesus is making. For God, you and I are God’s treasure. 

A final story:

My grandmother would sometimes take my brother and me for the weekend; it was always a treat for us (probably a treat for my parents, come to think of it). My brother and I never had to worry about anything. Mammam took perfect care of us. Every now and then she would give us a real special treat. We’d get all dressed up and go downtown Seattle to see a movie at the Martin Cinerama or the Paramount; top notch films like Spartacus, or How the West was Won, or even JAIL HOUSE ROCK. Can you believe it? Grandma really liked old swivel-hips, himself!

Mammam always took care of the bus fare, and once we were on our way, she’d reach deep into her handbag and bring out her real treasures: individually wrapped butterscotch candies!

They weren’t rewards for good behavior, nor were they bribes to get us to sit quietly. No, they were just tokens of her love for us; sweets for her sweets.

I think of that when we break the bread or share the cup; It’s an image of God reaching into her purse and sharing a token of her love for us, sharing a token of her love with us. Sweets for her sweets. 

May the blessings of God our Mother be upon each and every one of us this day, and always; in Jesus' Name we pray. AMEN


Tuesday, May 7, 2024

Reading Nature

 

“Reason and the divine spirit do not speak audibly or strikingly enough from a human being – stone, trees, animals must speak in order to make the human being feel himself and make himself reflect.” Novalis, Logological Fragments II

It has been a wet and rainy spring here in the Pacific Northwest. The lawn has grown tall, lush, and green; the flowerbeds have been overrun by weeds, which I find so strange, as weeds don’t have legs. Nevertheless, weeds have combined in such a way to cast doubt on whether or not we have flower beds. One could argue, “It’s a jungle out there!”


Hail hits deck and yard recently; crabgrass thrives!

I don’t mind, of course. This morning the sun is shining; there is a light breeze blowing over the yard, removing the dew at a clip that seems unreasonably rushed. Birds of all sorts (sparrows, crows, thrushes, robins, blue jays) have been hopping around the grass and beds greedily pecking and snapping up all of the culinary delights they can find. Birds are dancing along fence tops; some seeking mates, others warning off interlopers, and some (I suspect) just dancing and singing because they can. Not one of them holds a sign offering to sing or dance for pay; they do so because the Spirit moves them to.

I’ve been reading Barbara Brown Taylor’s book, An Altar in the World, and am reminded of how easy it is to get caught up in the busy-ness of life that we forget to stop, pause, and reflect on what’s happening around us. It’s easy for me to think, for instance, having devoted the better part of four decades to preaching, teaching, praying, worshiping, and leading congregations that I have somehow, in that process, worshiped God.

I have, of course; but there’s more to worship than the rites and rituals to which we’ve become accustomed (and attached). There is seeing and appreciating the divine in the world around us. If God is all in all, as we say we believe, then we ought to be able to sit still and listen for the still, small voice of God whispering sweet lullabies. 

I’ll admit I spend far too much time living inside my head. No, Socrates and Einstein need not fear they’ll have to move over in the Great Hall of Mental Giants. What I mean is that if one were to look inside my head, they would find words, thoughts, and ideas constantly bouncing around and ricocheting off of one another like a perpetual shoot-out at the OK corral. 

With all those pings, pews, and whiz-bangs flying around in there, I seldom stop long enough to truly appreciate the world around me. I don’t mean to neglect the outer world; it’s just hard to focus on what’s happening outside when one is busy dodging mental bullets inside.

Ms. Taylor, though, encourages her readers to do just that. She’s not spouting a cliche, telling us to stop and smell the roses. She’s inviting us to take time to consider – really consider – the wonders of the world around us. 

I was looking at the lawn the other day, for instance, and noting how long it had grown. But I also noted how much quack grass was mixed in with the regular grass. Admittedly, I don’t know my fescues from my Montagues, but my initial reaction was wanting to hit the lawn with some sort of weed and feed.

But then I wondered, why should I try to rid the lawn of the other varieties that have snuck in over time to become part of the lawn? When I was growing up, lawns included about 25% clover. Clover wasn’t considered a weed, but actually was intended to help the lawn stay green when the normal grasses were going dormant in late summer. 

Why must our lawns be green? Why must we rid our lawns and flower beds of those things we (artificially) call weeds? Do not weeds return oxygen to the air we breathe? Do weeds not produce flowers that feed the bees, and nectar for hummingbirds? 

All of this is just a start, of course, but those are the questions that arise as I consider God’s handiwork. I don’t hold the world in near-enough awe; consequently, I don’t hold Adonai in near-enough awe. I want to rethink how I read nature and our Creator 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)