Untangling mysteries of sound investments

 

"But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary." Isaiah 40:31

One of my favorite scenes in the old television movie, A Christmas Story, is the one where the family has put up the Christmas tree and is ready to plug in the lights. The Old Man (as he is called throughout the film) kneels before a cluster of plugs, cords, cables, and outlet multipliers, trying to figure out where he will plug in the tree. He makes his decision, sacrifices one of the cords, (“Well,” he says, “something’s got to go”), plugs in the tree, and immediately blows the circuit.

Modern electrical codes require more outlets in each room today, and more circuits, but the proliferation of devices and appliances that require outlets for charging have continued to outstrip the underwriters’ capacity to provide space for everything.

Last month the Fire Inspector visited our church and saw what could only be described as the remains of an eagle’s nest sitting at the base of our sound system. He immediately put a nitroglycerine tablet under his tongue, took two puffs off an industrial strength inhaler, fanned himself vigorously with his code book and clipboard, and suggested we might want to consider cleaning up all the cords, cables, and daisy-chained power strips before his next visit. 

The mess

He gave us two weeks to bring it all up to snuff. I was sad, as I had worked so hard to bring power to all the devices required to worship God in the modern era (and probably the finest eagle’s nest on the block). Furthermore, I don’t do snuff. Still, if that’s what the Inspector wanted, I’d get the job done.

I went online and found a single power strip that would handle all of our devices (and “fat plugs”), re-routed all of the cables and cords, utilizing proper ties, clips, and doo-dads, and created a spreadsheet identifying where every appliance, adaptor, and cable went, and which outlet they were plugged into. Visiting eagles no longer have a place to nest, but that’s the price of safety.

I have to admit that while I might have wanted to do an eye-roll over this “need” to clean up the mess behind the cabinet in the organ loft, it wasn’t all that difficult. It simply took a set of fresh eyes to see what was there, identify the hazards (and yes, I expect a fire marshal to know fire hazards far better than me), and let me know what needed to be done to make everything safer for everyone. 

Better Organized

While some folks may decry the “need” for inspectors to “find something wrong” in order to justify their existence, it has been my experience that inspectors know far too well the things that can go wrong when we use “common sense” and ignore the rules. There was nothing there that couldn’t be fixed with a little time, a few items readily available to buy to make things right, and the small amount of elbow grease necessary to get the job done.

The end result is a space that is much neater, better organized, and far safer than it was before.

I learned a long time ago that one can scream and cry and wail and moan all they want to when faced with a task, or they can just shut up and do what’s needed and leave the drama to the Screen Actors Guild. One’s going to have to do what they’ve got to do, so they may as well kick the angst to the curb and just do it.

I find that helpful in life. Stop arguing with life’s umpires. Ask them what they need; ask them what your options are for best results. Stand in their shoes to see what they see and lean on the wisdom and experience they bring to the floor. Working together brings a lot more peace of mind and a lot more safety.

More often than not, I find working WITH others, rather than against them, is a far wiser use of time and resources. It’s a sound investment, if you will, in this, our less-tangled 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)

Alternative Addresses for GOD

 

There has been some discussion in my neck of the woods regarding how we address God in our Liturgies. The traditional form usually uses masculine images and their corresponding pronouns. For instance, "The Lord be with you." Lord is masculine. We never address God as Lady; we would never say, "The Lady be with you." We pray, "... for all who serve God in his church." One alternative is to neuter God and change that line to "For all who serve God in the Church." That's a little better, in terms of inclusive language, but separates the Church (also known as the Body of Christ, the Bride of Christ, and something more than the institution we have come to know) from the One who calls the Church into being. So we save a pronoun, but we lose a little bit of the relationship. Is there something we can do, or do better? I think so.

I have stylistic issues with replacing “The LORD be with you” with “God be with you.” It isn't the shift from a masculine noun to a more neutral noun, but a loss of balance between the five syllable phrase and it's four syllable counterpart. It is the linguistic equivalent of an off-balance washing machine. Liturgy is a song, a dance; it requires balance, movement, grace. No clunks, please.

I don’t have a problem with inclusive language, but worry that the choices we make are often too safe, bland, or (to be honest) boring. I appreciate the desire to avoid masculine pronouns, and too much “they” and “them” can both sound lame and have a potential to nudge us into polytheistic heresies or the confusions of the Persons of the Trinity. Rather than being safe, boring, or heretical, I suggest some alternatives for consideration.

The Divine One be with you … and also with you.

Adonai be with you … and also with you.

God the healer be with you … and also with you.

The One who creates be with you … and also with you.

The Holy One be with you … and also with you.

The One who embraces their creation be with you … and also with you.

The One who holds life in the palm of their hand be with you … and also with you.

The One who took up their cross be with you … and also with you.

The One who sanctifies be with you ... and also with you.

The One who enlightens be with you … and also with you.

God of love be with you … and also with you.

God who gives generously of themselves be with you … and also with you.

The list can go on and on. God has many attributes with which people of any gender can identify. We can also feel free to bounce between masculine and feminine pronouns as the Spirit leads (e.g. God who keeps us in the palm of her hand be with you … God at who’s breast we nurse be with you … God who gives new birth to us be with you … etc.) The key, in my opinion, is to find and utilize biblical imagery. God is not just a Warrior in the Bible; God is also a nurse-maid. God is not just a spy in the sky (the roving eye), but a woman who seeks her lost valuables.

Changing up our images and metaphors can freshen our worship without being coy, clever, or drawing us into pop-cultural references that could go stale in time (like the “Star Wars” liturgy AKA Eucharistic Prayer C (which I still love, by the way).

I don’t know what processes one might need to go through to acquire permission to change things up, but since so many churches are printing their services in full in place of using the actual BCP, tweaking some of these godly addresses in the Prayers of the People and Invitations to pray could rather easily be incorporated in those reformed liturgies.

Anyway, it’s just a thought here in this, God’s world. Perhaps the Queen of Heaven will enlighten us with other options. Peace!

The Rev. Keith Axberg, Retired

What God has wrought in us

 

“Remember, O Lord, what you have wrought in us … and, as you have called us to your service, make us worthy of our calling …” Book of Common Prayer, 1979

We have had a lot of rain here in my neck of the woods this spring. I know this area has a reputation for being wet and gray and miserable year-round. Unfortunately, folks have learned that’s a lie, and so the population of the state has grown enough to make me groan.

That’s OK, though. People have to live someplace, and if one has the means to relocate, why not? The other day our landscaper, Isaias, brought a few plants to add to our front yard. I’d mentioned my interest in having more color out front. Green is nice, but other colors of the rainbow are also delightful.

I should add that my wife and I generally do our own planting and flower-buying, but we were having a new retaining wall installed to prevent our front yard from leaving us and moving across the street. Clergy often live in glass houses, so I didn’t want our neighbors (who are very nice, by the way) to have any (more) dirt on us. Hence, a retaining wall.

Anyway, Isaias was adjusting one of the new shrubs, and a tiny green frog jumped out of the planter pot onto the fresh black mulch and seemed confused in his or her new surroundings. I found myself immediately worrying about the little critter. 

Did they have some place to go? Would they be able to find friends with whom to hang and get a lay of the land? The frogs around here tend to be more brown than green. Would they be judged for the color of their skin or by the content of their character?

Shifts in geography are always a little unsettling. While I may worry about how the frog will do with this major resettlement event, I suspect this particular “pseudacris regilla” will be primarily concerned with finding a place that is sheltered from birds and predators, and with access to adequate supplies of food, water, and mates – the basics of life.

We humans are interested in and in need of the basics of life, too. We need more than that, though. I don’t know if frogs can dream dreams or envision a brighter future where they can hop across verdant fields of grass without fear of being picked off by crows or jays, but we humans can and do.

Unlike the lilies of the field, the birds of the air, or the frogs in the bushes, we humans tend to fret and worry more than is either necessary or healthy. Worry stresses the body, mind, and spirit. I like the prayer (above); we ask God to remember what God has “wrought” in us. We were made for so much more than eating, drinking, and procreating. Individually, we are gifted.

More than being “gifted,” we’ve been called to God’s service. I should note that one doesn’t have to believe in God, or the God of the Bible to fulfill their purpose as a human being. In fact, sometimes one’s faith can get in the way of being a decent human being, but that’s a matter for discussion another time.

What I’m talking about here is being aware of and sensitive to the world around us. That includes the earth we walk on, the trees that give us shade, and the zillion other life forms that make up our part of the universe. 

It costs nothing to be kind and attentive. I’ll confess I don’t mind squishing mosquitoes (although I’m sure God has a purpose for them, too). I don’t smash them to be cruel, but to defend myself from the diseases mossies may carry. But if a creature crosses my path, I strive to watch out for it, to not scare it or upset it.

We have plenty of opportunities to be kind and gentle. More than that, we are made to serve one another. Not to be subservient, but to work together as equals. If one wants a bandwagon to hop on, I would recommend that one 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)

Proper 4, Year B: Sabbath: The Law of Life

Proper 4 (2nd Sunday after Pentecost)

St. Paul’s (Mount Vernon, WA)

Track 2: Deuteronomy 5:12-15; Psalm 81:1-10; 2 Corinthians 4:5-12; Mark 2:23-3:6

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.

My mother would not have approved.

In the Gospel this morning, Jesus is brought up short by some Pharisees (people who were quite nit-picky about Torah – the “Law and Order” crowd, we might call them). Jesus and his friends were walking along one day – it was the Sabbath – and they were strolling through some fields plucking heads of grain off some oats, wheat, or barley as they were passing through.

The Pharisees saw this and said, “Whoa, wait a minute. You can’t do that; it’s the Sabbath!”

Now, it was bad enough for the disciples to be violating the Sabbath, but what’s worse is that Jesus, the Rabbi, the Teacher, the Chaperone on this little class outing let them do it!

“You should know better,” they said.

And Jesus does. Jesus knows the Law. Jesus knows the Torah. Jesus knows the rules. Jesus knows what it means to be a good, faithful Jew. Or if he didn’t know, he SHOULD have known. Otherwise he should turn in his teaching credentials.

Then Jesus answers them with that classic fourth grade deflection: “Yes, but they did it. They got away with it!”

He’s pointing back to a time when David (before he was King David) was staying one step ahead of King Saul (who was out to kill him). David was a renegade in those days, and he and his men were hot, tired, thirsty, and hungry, so they dipped into the House of Worship (this was before there was a proper temple) and ate what we used to call the Shew Bread. It was reserved for the priests, the clergy, the Upper Crust of society, if you will.

“They did it,” says Jesus, and we expect him to answer, “so why can’t we?”

My mother would not have accepted that answer. She would not have approved.

Mothers across America (and maybe Dads, too) have had to deal with the argument put forth by kids since time immemorial: “Yeah, but what about them?”

“Yeah, they get to stay up late on a school night; they get to go to the concert; they get to do this; they get to do that …”

On and on it goes. And what do mothers say? How do parents respond?

“If Suzy’s mother let her jump off the cliff, that’s fine; I’m not Suzy’s mother. I’m your mother and I have my reasons.”

The only argument left at that point is, “Well, that’s just not fair,” at which point we parents collectively roll our eyes and tell them: (prompt): Life’s not fair!

But did you notice, Jesus did not take that route. He used that little bit of rationalization to draw in his opponents, to get to the point he really wanted to make: his teaching point. He didn’t say, “Well, David broke the Law then, so I can break the Law now.”

He didn’t do that. He said (in essence), “The overarching purpose of Law (of Torah) is Life. Torah does not shackle us with rules, but frees us to live. God did not give us Sabbath to nail us down, but to free us up.”

Jesus is revealing to them something we might call today a Paradigm Shift.

A paradigm shift is that Ah Ha you get when you not only see things differently, but shift your underlying assumptions about it.

For example, a man invents a process for putting an image onto paper using heat and some special stuff he’s cooked up. He took it to Kodak to show them a new way to make pictures and they laughed him out of the office. “That’s not how photography works,” they said. The man found other investors and invented the thing that makes our bulletins possible: XEROX! 

The underlying assumption of Kodak was that photography required film, silver nitrates, special paper, chemical solutions, fixers, and all that nonsense. The Paradigm train came to them, and they missed it by a mile.

A second example: A man goes to Switzerland to show them they could make time pieces using quartz crystals. The Swiss clock industry laughed him out of the room. “That’s not how you make watches and clocks, “ they said. “You need gears und springs und little hands that go ticky tocky.”

They laughed him out of the room, so he went to Japan. Has anyone heard of Seiko? There is another way to keep time, using … rocks? Quartz? Another group that missed the Paradigm train.

One last example: I was graduating from the Spokane Police Academy and needed to contact one of my friends in Pullman to tell him where the ceremony would be and what time, but when I dialed his number, I got a message the call couldn’t go through because the lines between Spokane and Pullman were down.

I dialed the operator and told her my problem. She said she was sorry, but the lines were down and she couldn’t make the connection. Then I said, “Well, can’t you go through the back door?” 

She said, “What do you mean?”

I said, “Can’t you route the call from Spokane to Coeur d-Alene, down to Moscow, and then over to Pullman?”

She paused for a moment and said, “Yeah, that would work.” And we were able to make the connection.

That, by the way, is how the internet works, routing traffic by finding the best route it can. So I stand here today to let you in on a little secret; it wasn’t Al Gore who invented the Internet; that was me.

Anyway, a Paradigm Shift is all about finding new ways to see the world by being willing to set aside assumptions that may no longer be working well for us, and finding there may be a better way to do things, to approach things …

… a better way to live, and that’s what Jesus is doing.

Sabbath isn’t about NOT WORKING. It’s not even really about RESTING. It’s finding a way to live in the presence of God and with one’s neighbor.

This is Pride Month, and we are in the midst of another major Paradigm Shift where we’ve been busy breaking the chains that defined who we’re supposed to love and how we’re supposed to love, and what we’re supposed to look like and dress like, and behave, and all that sort of stuff.

These changes can be very unsettling. I’d like you to take your hands and clasp them together, like this (demonstrate).

Now, when I clasp my hands, my left thumb is always on top. Always. I don’t have to think about it. Now I want you to switch, so your other thumb is on top. Switch. (pause)

First, notice you had to think about it. Tell me, does that feel natural? To me, it feels kind of weird and icky. That’s because I’m not used to it.

There is no law that tells us which thumb should be on top. Thumbs aren’t the boss of us. God gave us thumbs to help us do the things we need to do. 

“Loving God, neighbor, and self … that’s the thumbery of the Law.”

The point Jesus is making is underscored by the second scene in today’s Gospel reading where a man comes to Jesus with a hand that is useless. The paradigm of the day would have said, first of all, this man is a sinner, otherwise God would not have afflicted him this way. Secondly, it is the Sabbath, so a healer (especially) should not heal. If you break this norm, Jesus, all heck will break loose!

Jesus asks, “Is this OK (to heal on the Sabbath)?” 

The Pharisees stood there, their hearts shackled to the stone tablets of Torah. Their hearts were as cold, dark, and immoveable as Mount Sinai. Their eyes said, “We double-dog dare you; we TRIPLE-DOG dare you.”

What they said did not matter. What they thought did not matter. Jesus ignored the Torah-ble people staring him down. Turning to the man with the withered hand, Jesus simply said, “Stretch out your hand.” He did as Jesus said, and he was made whole; he was made holy, by Golly.

We have the opportunity today to choose whether to live like those Pharisees, bound and shackled by rules and traditions (which isn’t to say that rules and traditions aren’t important), but if those rules keep us from living and sharing the light and life God has for us and for the world around us, then what good are they? What good are we?

Just because it isn’t Lent, that doesn’t mean we don’t need to engage in self-reflection and ask God to transform our withered hands and clenched fists and open them to release God’s grace and love in good and kindly service here in this, our grain picking community of saints and sinners.

Amen.

The Rev. Keith Axberg, Retired

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)

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

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)