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