The Poor Are Not Our Enemies

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Not In Stone But In Your Heart

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Thou Shalt Commit Un-murder Oct. 23, 2011

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The Host and the Guest 10.-9-2011

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Keep Your Eye on the Prize

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Who Said You Could

Sermon 9.25.2011

Take Up Your Cross

Sermon 8.28.2011 “Take Up Your Cross” Matt. 16.21-28

The church I served years ago in Kansas City was right on the southern edge of Wyandotte County, where the suburban edge of the city met corn fields and farms. The site was chosen because a demographic projection of the area predicted that a very large population of Spanish-speaking people were going to move there from a more urban part of the city. The two-lane road in front of the church was projected to turn into a four-lane boulevard. A Spanish-speaking pastor was brought in from Puerto Rico to start the church up. After eight years the latino migration never occurred, the street never became a boulevard, and the pastor left a small, somewhat confused, English-speaking congregation behind and went off to where a Spanish-speaker was actually needed.

Some time later I arrived to help the English-speaking congregation, who assured me they were in a prime location to grow, since quite a few very large housing developments had been built within just a couple miles. What I learned after arriving was that the housing was in Johnson County, to the south. Now, I could stand on the church property and throw a rock into Johnson County. The problem was that in Wyandotte Co., where the church was, numbered streets ran north and south. In Johnson Co., to the south numbered streets ran east and west. So... to get from the housing developments to the church, you had to successfully negotiate the intersection of 47^th and 47^th, then make the correct turn at the intersection of 55^th and 55^th! It's almost funny --how doomed that church was. 1000' south and it would've been fine!

Sometimes the plans we make just don't work out. How many of us can look at our own lives and say, “Well, it's not exactly what I had in mind for myself.” Maybe things turned out OK, but it's a far cry from what you had expected when you were starting out. I think a lot of us have lived lives like that.

Jesus' disciples had some of expectations for Jesus and themselves when out of the blue, Jesus starts talking about going into Jerusalem and letting his movement blow up – letting himself be arrested and humiliated and killed in the worst possible way. Which would have the effect of putting all of his disciples at risk as well. “Gee, swell plan, Lord! Let's go right now!” When Peter protests, Jesus speaks the famous line, “Get behind me, Satan.” And in doing so he draws a line back to the beginning of his ministry, the Temptation in the Wilderness. At that point Jesus resisted three temptations to short-circuit his ministry and make it something less than it needed to be. So here again near the end of his ministry, Jesus says, no, we're going to do this right, all the way to the end.

Jesus' life was one of sometimes-bewildering and sometimes-infuriating consistency. He called who he wanted to call. He ate with those he wanted to eat with. He touched and healed those he wanted to touch and heal. And he wasn't afraid of anything or anybody. Not afraid of hunger or loneliness or temptation in the desert. Not afraid of lepers. Not afraid of Herod. Not afraid of Pilate. Not afraid of the cross.

We sometimes wonder how to follow such a one as that. How far can we get imitating one like that? I mean, you'd have to be Jesus Christ! And none of us can do that. Our efforts to imitate Jesus are doomed to fail. We don't have Jesus' power, we don't live in Jesus' world. We live in this world – a world where our best laid plans result in planting a church in the only corner of KC that won't grow! Our best laid plans for ourselves run smack into the unpredictable circumstances of life! We can't go very far in imitating Christ... so what we do is internalize him. We listen, we eat and drink. We hear to the words of faith coming out of own mouths and try to get used to the sound. We expose ourselves to the Good News and let it change and transform us. In doing so we find that we might be giving up some of the plans that we originally had for our lives. We might find that instead of climbing some ladder to fame and fortune that we have these strange impulses to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, find the lost, share a cup of cold water, or share the Good News. We might find that some of our life's plans aren't lost altogether, but are placed into a new context, that of doing the best we can to live faithful lives as God leads us.

I don't believe that taking up one's cross means throwing your life away. I don't think it means living as a hermit and forgoing all worldly comfort. Jesus did not recruit followers to be suicide bombers. Bearing a cross does not mean making oneself a martyr by putting up with your stupid in-laws, or enduring chronic pain without seeking medical treatment. We are not called to seek suffering and love suffering. And we are not called to seek out suffering and endure suffering because in doing so we will earn a reward. We are called to make a witness. And we don't have to have the wealth of a Warren Buffet or the power of a Washington politician to do so. Any believer can make a witness. It just so happens that those who make their witness when they are poor or suffering frequently make the most impact. They're considered more credible.

And in every denomination since the beginning of the modern church, the poor have always given a larger percentage of their income to the work of the church than have the wealthy. Logic says the wealthy have more to give. Most wealthy people apparently don't feel that way.

Taking up your cross doesn't mean you go out looking for trouble. It means you make your witness, wherever you are, and with whatever means you have at your disposal. If you find yourself in front of Pilate you tell him the truth and you don't blink. If you find yourself in front of your best friend who's talking about doing something really hurtful, or violent, or dishonest, or selfish you tell him the truth and you don't blink. If you find yourself in front of a total stranger who says that because her life has been tough she has nothing to live for and life is just a cruel joke, you can tell her the truth of what you believe, that yes, sometimes life is really hard and seems really unfair, but she is known and loved by the God who made her, who asks her to lift her eyes from her own pain to see the God that loved her this much (arms spread) on the cross. That God knows what pain and rejection feel like and has hope to offer her of new life and forgiveness and Christian fellowship and people who will encourage and support her.

You can bear a cross and not even know it if you just do what your heart – formed in faith – tells you is right. And if you do what your heart tells you is right, it doesn't matter how many times your life has changed direction or how many surprising turns you've taken, because you will have no regrets.  

Canaanite Women and Klingons

Sermon 8.14.11

It's hard to say whether the woman who asked Jesus for help in today's Gospel lesson was an insider or an outsider. She was a Canaanite, a Philistine, a Palestinian. Her people were in the land before Moses and Joshua and the Jews moved in. From her perspective she was in insider. She was there first. From the Jew's perspective she was an outsider cuz she wasn't one of them. The Jews and Canaanites lived in the same land, but without dealing with each other. Separate languages, separate customs, separate faiths, separate cooking rules, separate families. Separate planets.

She crosses all those boundaries and asks Jesus for help. Jesus tests her to find out: which is stronger, woman, your belief in the separation of Jews and Canaanites or your belief in my ability to help. She believes in Jesus, she needs Jesus, and with great boldness she asks again for whatever help he is willing to give. The story has a happy ending. Barriers are broken, walls torn down, generations of prejudice and tradition go out the window and a precedent is set for Jews and Canaanites to interact in ways that please God.

Which leads us naturally to science fiction and the Klingons. In the Star Trek series the Klingons are the villains of the universe. Not much was done with them in the original Capt. Kirk series. There were a few episodes, and the Klingons looked a lot like Vulcans. But in the second series, Next Generation, the Klingon empire is much more fully developed, the budget was bigger, make-up and costuming was more extensive, and we have the Klingons like the one pictured on the bulletin cover.

So what does sci fi have to do with religious faith? It's simple. Good science fiction is not about gadgets or space ships or phaser beams. It's about people—about human relationships. A good story creates a new situation, a strange situation, but a plausible, believable situation in which people may one day find themselves, like, let's say, time travel. The interesting part of the story is not the technology, it's the relationships, the human emotions, the overcoming of a challenge, the test of the human mind, the human will, or the human heart. That's what good science fiction does and Star Trek is good science fiction.

In the Star Trek movies and TV series, the Klingons are a force to be reckoned with: will our heroes respond to the Klingons' violence and aggression with violence of their own? Can the whole lot of Klingons be written off as irredeemably, hopelessly, blindly violent? Aren't there any good ones? Well, as Star Trek Next Generation progressed, they had a Klingon on the Enterprise crew, named Whorf. He is highly placed, the security officer, a position of tremendous trust. Eventually the Klingon Empire join the Federation of Planets, which Earth is part of. Now there is regular, peaceful interaction between the Klingons and other races. But there is lingering tension, as the Klingons have a history with just about everyone at some point.

Do you know this story? Even if you've never watched Next Generation you should know this story. It's the story of your own American culture:

• Here comes a boatload of starving Irish into New York harbor. Where are going to put them? Are any of them any good? Are any of them sober?
• Here come a trainload of blacks up from Mississippi to Chicago. Whose jobs are THEY going to take? They better not try to move into MY neighborhood.
• Here come a thousand Mexicans over the border who can't speak English. How much is this going to cost us?
• A mosque in my town? Really?

The issues are entirely the same. The Star Trek movies and TV series are really about US! They always have been. They challenge us to look at our values and decide what it means to be human.

As followers of Jesus Christ we look to Jesus as the ultimate example of what it means to be human: to be loving, forgiving, fearless, inviting, willing to risk oneself physically, financially, socially on behalf of another, to speak out for those who don't have enough power to have a voice, to take responsibility for the well-being of those who have been pushed off to the margins of the life we enjoy. In Jesus we are challenged to look at ourselves, our values, our behaviors, and see if we are human-- that is, if we are living as God intends us to live.

In Matthew 28, in the Great Commission, Jesus tells his disciples to do what? To clone themselves? No. He tells them to “Go, therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you.” The words of Captain Kirk in the intro to the original TV series are not so out of line with this idea. Do you remember? Say it with me if you can: The mission of the Starship Enterprise, to seek out new life, new civilizations, to boldly go where no man has gone before.” That's what Jesus did later on in his career, branch out beyond Israel more and more. And that's what Paul did-- take the Gospel message to new lands, to boldly go where no one had gone before with that message.

So what do we do with this in St. Germain?

There are two competing views about how the Church should be the Church. In the first view, conformity is everything. We prove our faithfulness by proving our conformity. There is a strongman at the top of the organization (maybe in Rome, maybe at the local congregation) – and he interprets things for us; tells us what to think, do and believe. The culture of the group comes first, the Gospel comes second. There are very clear lines indicating who's in and who's out. Those who look like the insiders and sound like the insiders can be IN. This is a community turned in on itself. The primary emotion of this group – don't believe the tight-lipped smiles – is fear: fear that your slip might show on your way to communion, fear that God won't find you worthy, fear of the devil, fear of those with different experiences of life, different values, ideas, dress cods, skin colors, fear that the world is just too big and bad for God to handle. Primary loyalty is to the group. Jesus, well, Jesus is something of an afterthought. Jesus reminds us to be nice, at least to those inside the group.

Here's a contrasting view of what the Church should be. In the second view, the only conformity that counts is loyalty to the cross. Any other issue can be on the table for honest people to disagree about. Politics, clothes, music, etc. people can agree to disagree on those things who agree on the Cross. There is no strongman at the top of the organization – the only one who matters is Christ. There is no fear of Christ nor of judgment because we believe what Jesus says about the cross and empty tomb, namely that it works! Resurrection is real. Salvation works. There is no fear of the devil; God's power is much much much greater. There is no fear of the big bad world; the world is full of God's beloved children. This is a community that is not turned in on itself. It is turned outward toward those who are not there yet, because Jesus is to be found, not only on the inside, but also on the outside. The community is oriented toward the stranger, the alien... because Jesus was.

There are two competing views about how the Church should be the Church. One view is a country club, feeling sorry for itself, and covering the windows with stained glass so no one has to look at the world going to hell. The other view is a reflection of Jesus Christ, fearless reaching out with Good News to those who have not yet heard it.

When Jesus spoke his harsh-sounding words to the Canaanite woman about dogs and the children's table he was really asking her this: what do you believe in more?

• The artificial boundaries that separate us?
• Or do you believe in me?

In the way this congregation chooses to conduct itself we answer the same question. Which vision will we follow? What do we believe? The whole world is watching.

Alittle Faith

Enough

Podcast Sermon 7.31.11 "Enough"

Choppy for the first 10 Seconds-- Uploaded during a Thunderstorm.... It sounds fine on Real player...LJ

The Man Behind the Curtain

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The Great Commission

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Sermon 6.19.11 Matt. 28:16-20 The Great Commission

These words we've just heard are called The Great Commission. They are the last words Jesus spoke in the Gospel of Matthew. They are a crystal clear call to mission. No other permission needs to be received. “All authority in heaven and earth has been given to me. Go, therefore....” There is work yet to be done.

Have you noticed that you don't hear a lot these days about “foreign missions?” Is that because every place on earth has now been reached by the Gospel and there's nothing more to do in Asia, Africa, the Pacific islands, South America? Does it mean that there's no money for it any more so we just quietly stopped doing it?

When my parents were young they went to “mission rallies.” They were like pep rallies for foreign missions. Rousing songs were sung. Exciting stories-from-the-front were told. Money was raised. No one does that any more. How come? I actually owe my life to mission rallies! That's how my grandparents met. Herman Borchers was hand-pumping an organ in some sweltering Oklahoma church, and Anna Friis felt sorry for him and brought him a lemonade. But young couples no longer meet at mission rallies. We don't have them. Why? What are we doing overseas?

When the first Christian missionaries went to China with early explorers and traders, they would march into a village, round up all the peasants, march them down to the river at spear point and baptize them in Dutch or Portuguese. This had two results: it bewildered and annoyed the peasants (though it did not convert them); and it aggrevated the local Chinese warlords. They said, 'you can't treat our peasants this way,' and thdy threw the missionaries out of China. When European missionaries were later allowed to return they realized they needed a more subtle approach. They'd learned that the warlord was the gatekeeper to the people. So they'd work on converting the warlord... who then marched his peasants down to the river to force them all into baptism! When it had become clear that this was bringing China no closer to accepting Christianity in any meaningful way, the Pope sent in the Jesuits, the Seal Team 6 of the Vatican. The Jesuits learned Chinese, dressed Chinese, ate Chinese, studied Confucius, engaged Chinese academicians in debate, trying to establish the intellectual superiority of Christianity, with the hopes of opening a door that way. But the Jesuits were all called home and chastised for becoming too Chinese.

We are not sending many missionaries overseas any more. We're bringing their students here to receive Masters Degrees, then sending them back to pastor their own people. And we're bringing their pastors here to receive their doctorates in order to go home and teach in seminaries at home to bring up the next generation of pastors right there.

So what do we do now with the Great Commission? How do we go, making disciples? Baptizing? Teaching? How do we do that, other than by financially supporting seminaries that teach foreign students?

When I lived in Sandusky, OH there was a fella there who was a breeder of hunting dogs. He felt the call to build a church and call himself the pastor, so he did. He had about 12-15 people that would worship in a barn. Then he felt a call to feed the hungry. So he went into the city and bought an old house on the poor side of the tracks and converted it into a soup kitchen. He's cooking along, serving about 50-60 people a night, when the city inspectors wrote him up for a violation: he didn't have the right kind of range hood and vent for his industrial kitchen. He was given 30 or 60 days to remedy that, and during that time an acquaintance of a friend of a friend who sat on the board of Cedar Point, the big amusement park that makes Sandusky famous – this third party asks the park to support the local community by supporting the soup kitchen. $30,000 worth of upgrades are installed in the kitchen to bring it up to code and the kitchen goes on.

This all happened before my first visit to the kitchen. I took youth groups there to peel potatoes and do dishes. About this time Herb Thompson retired. He was a plumber. He retired and after about two days of pacing around the house he started making his wife Betty crazy. I invited Herb seven months in a row to come with the youth and peel potatoes before he finally did. Herb loved it, and made every Thursday afternoon his day to go volunteer. He soon started talking about it with his buddies at the VFW and invited them to go with him on Thursday afternoons.

Now, which part of this story is a fulfillment of the Great Commission? Every bit of it! Answering the call to serve, feeding the hungry, volunteering, inviting, a cup of cold water for the least of these, stewardship, giving as generously as one has received... we love, because God first loved us. It's all the Great Commission.

Did you know that indiginous churches in Africa and South America look at North America and Europe, whom they refer to as the “neo-pagan North,” and are sending missionaries to our cities because it's so obvious that we need to hear the Good News of Jesus Christ? Rather than being embarrassed by that can we see that as a sign that our “foreign missions” of the 20^th century were successful enough that they've come full circle? Grandpa and Grandma's mission rally had a hand in this.

Now, if we choose to focus on domestic missions, which is what is left to us, and what is most needed, how do we do it? How do we carry out the Great Commission here at home? We do it by teaching and remembering. Jesus said, “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, 20and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” So that's what we'll do. We'll teach the people of the world to do everything Jesus has commanded us to do. In other words, we'll ask people to do as we do. And we will do what Jesus has commanded, namely,

• you will be my witnesses, starting in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria and to the ends of the earth.
• Love one another as I have loved you.
• Take and eat; take and drink.
• Let the one who is without sin cast the first stone;
• Feed my lambs, tend my sheep;

And all the while we're doing this, amid our doubts, and self-doubts, facing our fears and frustrations and distractions, we will remember that the Living Christ is with us always... to the end of the age.

Hearing it-- Getting it

We often think that the miracle of Pentecost was that a bunch of Galilean Jews began speaking in strange new languages. Jews from all over the known world, namely that strip of land all around the Middle East and the eastern Mediterranean Sea – from Italy and Greece and Palestine and North Africa-- were in town for the harvest festival called Pentecost. And suddenly Jesus' disciples began speaking to them in their own languages.

The miracle of Pentecost is not that the disciples began speaking in new languages. The miracle is that the visitors began hearing in their own languages. The Word, the message of God, was not only being spoken – it was being heard. Maybe that sounds simple. But if you've ever tried to communicate with someone-- your grandchildren, your new neighbors from Mexico, your own spouse-- you know that it's a lot easier to talk than to get yourself understood. Hearing is the miracle.

We get together in worship to listen, and hopefully to hear... and to practice getting heard and being understood. We hear the Word of salvation in Jesus, and practice speaking it. We speak it in our prayer, in our singing, in the touch of greeting. We speak it when we hold our hands out to receive. All of this is practice for speaking the Word on Monday...

You see, the disciples were locked away together indoors. But when the Holy Spirit came upon them it made such a ruckess that a crowd gathered. The disciples went out into the city. They went out beyond themselves in order to let the world know that Messiah had come – the one who sets the world right... had come.

Now talking is not the only way to communicate. Using words is not the only way to get across what's in your head and your heart. The Gospel can be communicated through art: painting, sculpture, carving, weaving, drama, poetry, film. The Gospel can be communicated through music as the Spirit enables composers, hymn-writers, instrumentalists, vocalists, etc. But beyond words and art...

In the 13^th century, Elizabeth, princess of Hungary, born rich and married at 14 to a wealthy German nobleman used her power of self-expression (her wealth) to speak the Gospel. In 1225 she gave away all of her money to feed the hungry during a famine. She built two hospitals. And when all her money was gone, she invited the sick and destitute into her husband's home and began spending HIS money to care for the poor – which made him furious, but didn't stop her. Elizabeth's wealth and status as nobility was her language – her means – of communicating the Gospel.

Toyohiko Kagawa of Japan, born 1888, took a Bible class in order to learn English. His family disinherited him when he became a Christian. He lived in the slums helping the poor, but he's best remembered for his efforts to prevent Japan from entering WWII. His efforts for peace amid hostility and peer pressure and nationalistic fever more intense than we can imagine has made him a hero of the faith. He is quite well known outside the US. Against all odds, Kagawa, as the Spirit enabled him, spoke the language of peace and social reform, bringing help and hope to thousands before, during and after the war.

So you may be saying to yourself, What's this got to do with me? Maybe you're not particularly artistic. Maybe you can't carry a tune in a bucket. You're not medieval royalty, nor a heroic peace activist. Maybe the Holy Spirit hasn't enabled you to do any of those things. On the other hand, maybe the Spirit has. None of you were born a princess. Yet here you sit. If you are alive in the late 20^th century – early 21^st century in North America, you are among the richest 2% of people who have ever lived on this planet. By the world's standards you are rich beyond imagining. Not only are we rich with material things we are rich with freedoms. You live in a nation where you can learn the truth about what's going on in your country and around the world. You can speak the truth as you understand it. You are rich with freedoms and powers. Now what does the Holy Spirit enable YOU to do?

Maybe you're no Michelangelo, but if you can draw a cross or nail two sticks together you can reproduce the Glory of God! Now what does the Holy Spirit enable you to do?

I once served a church where fourth, fifth, sixth grade kids made Valentines for shut-ins. I saw them being made. They were nice. Not a one of them was going to wind up in the Louvre, but each contained a nice message. A week later a woman calls the church in tears. “Thank you for remembering my husband,” she said. “His Valentines Day card was beautiful! It's so nice to know that he's not forgotten, even though it's been years since he could come to church. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” With nothing more than construction paper and markers those kids TOUCHED LIVES! Just by speaking as the Spirit enabled them.

In the United Church of Christ we like to say, “God is still speaking.” Or, using the words of Gracie Allen, “Never put a period where God has put a comma.” What does that mean? It means that we live together with God in an open system. Our faith is an old faith, but it is not exclusively defined by 2000 year old ideas or images or methods, or modes of communication. Preaching is the proof. There has been preaching since the beginning of the church. What is preaching but the interpretation of the ancient scriptures? In other words, asking and answering the question, “What do these scriptures mean to us, here and now?” That's interpretation. The Scriptures, precious as they are, do not – and have never – stood alone apart from interpretation. There is no such thing as a once and for all, literal interpretation of the Bible. That is an oxymoron and an idea that is proved false every time a fundamentalist interprets scripture claiming he is not interpreting it. Which is every time.

The theologian Karl Barth is famous for having said, “The preacher should climb into the pulpit with a Bible in one hand and the newspaper in the other.” In other words, God is still speaking. It is required of us that translate what we know of Christ from the Scriptures into the world we live in now. We get to decide how we share the Good News of Jesus Christ. We don't have to do it the way someone else did.

So what does the Holy Spirit enable YOU to do? Maybe you're feeling a little frustrated, like you don't know what YOUR contribution, YOUR witness is supposed to be? Here's my advice: Don't try to figure it out. DON'T TRY TO FIGURE IT OUT! Let the Holy Spirit lead you to it. There is a difference between “doing” and “letting.” Half of life is knowing when to “do” and when to “let.” Finding your role in Christ's salvation-story is a “let” rather than a “do.”

We are here to support each other in the work of emptying ourselves so that God's Holy Spirit can fill us. Part of that is to empty ourselves of our natural anxious desire to DO so that God can fill us with the ability to LET. We don't grab the Spirit and force it in. We let the Spirit in. Listen for the wind. Look for the flame. Wait for the Spirit. Then speak... as the Spirit enables YOU.

Separation Anxiety Sermon for May 29, 2011

Sermon     5/29/11   

What do Jesus' disciples, small babies and all of us here today have in common?  We all suffer from separation anxiety.

Somewhere between 6-9 months old most children go through a phase where they hate to see Mom or Dad leave the room.  If Mom leaves the baby's sight the baby will let out a scream as if her whole world has been lost.  At this point baby has not yet learned what doctors call the concept of permanence – that just because you can't see something doesn't mean it's gone out of existence.  Baby's view of the world is so small, he is so completely wrapped up in himself and his own comfort that any disturbance, like the absence of his mother sends him into screaming expressions of separation anxiety.

Jesus' disciples experienced separation anxiety when Jesus was crucified.  Before his arrest Jesus said goodbye to his disciples.  We heard some of that in the Gospel reading from John 14.  When Jesus talked about his death it greatly disturbed his disciples.  They didn't want to face the prospect of losing him.  Jesus had to reassure them that, even though he was going to be killed, he was not leaving them forever.  Just because they cannot see him does not mean that he has ceased to exist. 

When a baby experiences separation anxiety it screams and cries.  After Jesus' death, when the disciples experienced separation anxiety they cowered and hid behind locked doors.  They became very quiet, lest the same people that killed Jesus would find them and crucify them too.

What about us?  What does our separation anxiety look like?  There are times in everyone's life when it looks to them that God doesn't exist.  Can't see him.  He must not be there.  God must have abandoned me, or rejected me, or is punishing me. 

·        Some, in their anxiety will scream and cry out, “God, why are you doing this to me?  Where are you?  Why have you forsaken me?”

·        Some, in their anxiety, will become very quiet.  “OK, if this thing with God isn't working out, what other crutch is available to me?”  We elevate our hurt feelings into the place we used to reserve for God.  And we worship our victim status.

Sometimes, we experience separation anxiety, not because some tragedy has occurred, but simply because we have drifted away, or allowed ourselves to be pulled away from God.  Maybe we just wake up one day and notice – hey, where did everybody go?  God?  Haven't talked to him in a while.  The longer one has been away from worship, the harder it is to come back.  The longer one has been away from prayer, the harder it is to get started again.

When Jesus' disciples express their anxiety about his leaving them, he seeks to assure them three ways.  1.  In vs. 16 Jesus says, “I will ask the Father and he will give you another Advocate” that is... the Holy Spirit.  Some translations render the word Counselor instead of advocate.  The word in Greek that is used here is paraclete – one who brings comfort and hope by standing up in court to defend you.  So Jesus promises that they won't be alone-- that shortly they will have a Conforter among them, namely the Holy Spirit.  2.  In vs. 18 Jesus says, “I will not leave you orphanous (Gk.).  I will not leave you orphans.  I will not leave you deso;ae ones.  Even if you cannot see me, I have not ceased to exist.  3.  In vs. 20 Jesus encourages his disciples to observe his commandments while he is [apparently] gone.  This is more than simply a tactic to distract them away from their own self-absorption.  Following Jesus' commandments means that the disciples will be forced to think about others, and not just themselves. Their world will grow beyond their grief, fear, confusion and paralysis.  They will be engaging in action, mission witness, service. 

Because, what is it that Jesus commands us to do? 

·        Love one another as I have loved you.

·        Feed my sheep.

·        Go, therefore and baptize, making disciples of all nations.

·        Abide in me (make your home in me).

·        Go... quickly... and tell.

·        Take and eat; this is my body.

How do we know that Jesus is still with us?  When we can't see him?  When we feel so far away?  Part of the answer has to do with avoiding religion long enough to find faith.  Does that sound strange?  Avoid religion so as to find faith?

What is religion?  Here's one definition: Religion is a discipline or system of practice that seeks to alleviate or prevent anxiety over our real or imagined separation from God by observing rituals or practices designed to keep God's anger away.  Religion, when talking about all the religions of the world, both the worldwide religions and the smaller, tribal or primitive religions, is often about appeasing a god that is presumed to be angry, presumed to have a short temper.  As if god is Sheherezod's wicked husband, the king, who will gladly kill us unless we give him a good enough reason not to.  Or like the teacher who starts out every student in her class with an 'F', and over the course the semester you try to raise it up to a passing grade.

Does our God assume the worst about us?  Is our God just looking for a reason to kill us?  Do we worship an angry god?

In our first lesson today we heard about Paul at the Areopagus.  The citizens of Athens were so afraid of offending a god or goddess by overlooking them that they set up an altar to an unknown god.  Building altars was part of classical Greek “religion.”  It was supposed to keep the god situation under control.  It was supposed to assuage the gods' petty egos to the point that they won't get bored or angry and start meddling negatively in human affairs.  These are religious practices in the sense that they are designed to keep things as they are, with God happy enough to leave us alone.  They are designed to control God, nature, and the world.  These religious practices were supposed to prevent “surprises.”  Prevent bad surprises-- that's religion.  (I always cross myself before I shoot a freethrough, that's why I will always do it: to prevent a miss.)

Contrast that with faith.  Religion hopes to repeat the old while faith is open to the new.  Religion seeks to conrol, while faith seeks to set free.  Religion is a discipline (we must keep doing the things).  Faith is an adventure!  (Let's see what God is going to do next.)

Jesus came to give us a look into God's heart.  When we see Jesus we see the heart of the Father-- healing, encouraging, lifting up the poor, loving, forgiving... raising us from the dead!  We do not worship an angry God, eager to see us fail.  We worship the one we know through Jesus Christ, the one who went to the cross to show us that there is no place we can be, which is as distant from God as we sometimes feel – to show us that neither hight nor depth, nor anxiety, nor death-- can actually separate us from the love of God in Christ.  Amen.

Sermon for Good Shepherd Sunday and Confirmation

 “The Shepherd's Voice”

It was warm when Jesus was born, not winter. How do we know? Because the Gospel of Luke said the shepherds were watching their flocks out in the field. That's what they did during the warm 9 months of the year. During the three cold months all the sheep were kept in a single large pen on the edge of town. Now it doesn't take ten guys to watch ten flocks, it only takes one.

When spring came and the sheep were sheared, it was time once again to leave the communal pen and go out into the hills to get the fresh grass and water. Well, how did the shepherds sort the sheep out? I mean, they do all look alike. You don't brand them... the shepherds didn't sort out their sheep, the sheep sorted out the shepherds. The shepherds would stand outside the gate and call their sheep. Each sheep would recognize the voice it'd been listening to all its life and go to it.

Once out of the pen the sheep depended entirely upon the shepherd. The “rod” or the “staff” that the shepherd carried along was not only to prod the sheep along, it was also to defend them from wolves.

Sheep are helpless. They are even a danger to themselves. Once they get a coat of fleece on, the run the risk of rolling onto their backs. The fleece on their backs is heavier than their legs, so they are unable to roll back onto their feet and stand up. They'll starve to death if someone doesn't find them and get them rightside up.

The one ounce of brains that sheep have is hardwired to follow the shepherd. That's the one thing they can do well. There might be a lot more danger outside the villege pen than inside, but outside the pen is where the fresh food and water is. That's where the life is. To stay in the pen after the shepherd leaves would mean death: no food, no water, no one to pick you up if you tip over... the safety of the pen in town is a very limited safety, a very temporary safety. Before long you have to leave, trusting the shepherd as naturally as breathing itself.

The same is true for us in the Church of Christ. There is a time that it is appropriate for us to huddle together for warmth and safety. But most of the time we need to be out of the pen, a little more on our own (not that we are entirely ever on our own). Even if it's more dangerous out there in the hills, that's where life is. That's where we are more completely what we were created to be. We're still dependent on our shepherd, but we are most healthy, most thriving, most alive when we are out in the larger world.

Our confirmands are undergoing an old rite of passage today. They are not leaving home, they are not leaving St. Germain, they are not leaving their congregation. They are DEFINITELY not graduating from their Christian Education. It has been my goal to teach them enough about the Bible this past year that they will want to keep reading and studying and learning.

It is important that all young people raised by Christian parents and grandparents have enough exposure to the voice of their shepherd so that as they go out more and more on their own – which is all part of growing up – that they can recognize the voice of their shepherd. There are no shortage of voices out there. There are temptations, distractions, wolves in sheep's clothing... not to mention the real wolves. As they move through high school and beyond they will watch as classmates and acquaintences and friends of friends fall by the wayside. They will be exposed to a thousand forms of self-destruction. They will see people they know, maybe even people they love, follow some voice into violence or crime, someone else follow a voice into victimhood. They will see some just get tired and tip over and not be able to get back up.

They will be, more and more, over time, out there among dangers that their elders know better than they yet do. But they will never be without their Good Shepherd nearby. Keep listening. Keep listening, kids. Listen to the voice of the One you can trust to lead you to green pastures and still waters. We'll be here too, listening and following just like you. Welcome to your adult lives as disciples and apostles of Jesus Christ.

On the Death of Osama bin Laden

I learned late last night of the US armed forces raid that resulted in the death of Osama bin Laden.  This morning I'm thinking about how Christians around the world might be thinking about this.  Some people (US forces) killed other people (bin Laden et. al.).  Should Christians rejoice in this killing?

Imagine that a rabid wolf is attacking pets and threatening humans in the St. Germain / Sayner area.  This goes on for some time and affects the daily lives of people -- as they send their pets out into the yard, or their children go out to play.  One day an intrepid hunter from a state agency, having received a waiver on the wolf's protected species standing,  tracks the wolf down and shoots it.  How will people react?  They will rejoice.  People are safer.  Their pets are safer.  And a sick animal's suffering is ended.  This is just another example of the circle of life.

But wait!  We're talking about a human being.  Isn't that categorically different? 

The Christian community, according to Jesus, is to serve the larger community, as salt, or as leaven.  Both salt and leaven are minority elements in any recipe.  Neither one can serve as the entree.  They are powerful chemicals that make profound changes in the bread dough.

It is the salt and leaven within the Christian's conscience that makes us stop and ask, "Is it proper for me to celebrate this death?"  (We have salt and leaven that was never available to Osama bin Laden.)  The fact that we even ask the question is to our credit.  Having asked the question, here is my answer.

The mental health of the nation requires at least a short period of celebration.  Our grief and horror at the events of 9/11, and the grinding 10-year-long feeling of near-hopelessness at bringing bin Laden to justice has finally broken with the first rays of relief and closure at this news.  I believe we would be showing MERCY to New Yorkers, or families of 9/11 victims, or the nation as a whole, to take some satisfaction in the news of bin Laden's death.  The jubilation at Ground Zero and outside the White House will not last long.  The hard work of making the world safer from terrorism will continue.  We will quickly return to the sober work of disarming those who want to murder innocents.

In the mean time, let us give ourselves permission to take a deep breath, and with heart-felt relief, let it out with a loud, "Phwew, thank God that's over!"

Good Friday sermon 2011

“Finished… Completed… Accomplished” Good Friday 2011 Eagle River Ecumenical Svc.

I think I’m ready to start. I brought my sermon. It’s done. Or course, it could probably use a little touching up. There’s that long part in the middle—I’ll apologize for that right now. Or course, it IS Holy Week. I don’t know, if I’d just had a couple more days…

Do you recognize this feeling of regret, gnawing worry, guilt—that something you’ve done isn’t as good as it should be? Maybe it’s a test you should’ve studied harder for. Or something you did at work that wasn’t up to your own expectations. Maybe it was that difficult conversation you had to have with a relative that you think could’ve gone better? Sure, we all know that feeling. That’s a normal part of life for us. It’s human nature.

Today as we look at Jesus upon the cross I wonder what regrets, second thoughts, or wishes he might have had. Do you suppose he hung there thinking “I coulda healed more people. I coulda fit in a few more healings… a few lepers, maybe another exorcism.”

Do you suppose he was wishing he could have had a second shot at the Sermon on the Mount? Maybe put a little polish on the Beatitudes? A few rewrites here and there?

Maybe he was thinking about something he could’ve said to get through to that thick-headed Peter – something to help Judas see the light; maybe something helpful he could’ve said to Caiaphas, or Herod, or Pilate.

But Jesus doesn’t speak about those things from the cross. He doesn’t show us any regrets, self-doubts, second guessing or self-pity. Instead he says, “It is finished.” It is completed, accomplished – everything necessary has been done.

During the season of Lent we give ourselves opportunity for reflection, self-examination, confession, perhaps rites of penance. Lent is definitely the right time for that. Those things have their place. And we know that Easter joy follows. We are always Easter people, even on Good Friday. We never forget Jesus’ resurrection. That too is good.

But there’s a place in between that we need to pay special attention to as well. It’s the place where guilt is finished; where salvation is completed; where all that we need is accomplished. It is a place where we are called upon to set aside our normal self-absorption. A place where we are confronted by our guilt at its more profound level. A place where we can see that EVEN THAT GUILT does not separate us from the love of God. There is a place where, in the face of the most unearthly love, the most divine self-giving, there is nothing we can say. There is a place between Lent and Easter, so to speak, where we are called (for lack of a better way of putting it) to shut up; to stand in silence and just look at Jesus on the cross. There is a time for looking God in the eye. Here, at the cross, is where we do it.

Several years ago I was a chaplain at Northwest Memorial Hospital in Chicago. On the orthopedics ward I met a young man, maybe 20, named Dave. Dave spent several weeks sitting in a hospital bed because after his right leg was amputated above the knee, serious infections had set in. So he just sat around waiting. I came to visit him each day and one day he told me his story. He had been drinking heavily, got into a fight with his wife, got on his motorcycle, tore off down the road and blacked out. He’d been in bed for many days and had not yet been able to bring himself to look at his injury. One day I walked into his room. It was so quiet I though he was sleeping. But he was awake, tears streaming down his cheeks. Without looking he knew it was me at his side. He stared at his stump and said, “I didn’t think I’d ever be able to look at it. Every time I thought about it it just reminded me of the accident and how stupid I was. I was so ashamed. I’d come close to losing my life. I thought about my wife, my baby girl, my mom. I couldn’t bear the thought of how close I came to losing everything—how close I came to hurting them. It scared me. I just couldn’t look at it.

Just now for the first time I had a sudden impulse to look at my leg. I don’t know why. It was like God was telling me it was time. And you know what? It’s not like I thought it would be. When I looked at it I didn’t hate myself. I didn’t think about how close I came to dying. When I looked at it I realized I’M STILL ALIVE! I still have my wife, my daughter, my mom. And he wept. That day Dave was healed. I mean, it was a couple more weeks before the infection left him and he could go to rehab, but that day – that moment – is when he was healed. That day Dave started a new life. It started… when, in silence… he looked.

It’s hard for us to look at the cross. To see anyone suffer that cruelty, the humiliation and the torture of the cross, is so hard. To think that we’re responsible for that suffering only makes it worse. Some just can’t look at it. And yet, there is healing in that sight. We can sing Alleluia on Easter as loud as we want, but until we’ve seen the sight of Christ on the cross we don’t really know what it means.

By the grace of God you have been given the opportunity for healing. You have been promised eternal life. You have been promised new life right now. Don’t be so afraid to look at the suffering of Christ that you wake up tomorrow still beating yourself up with regrets (I should’ve done something more; I still don’t measure up; I’m still just me and that’s not good enough). Look at Jesus on the cross and look and look until your self-loathing melts away. Remember, Jesus died without regrets. Nothing had been left undone. He fulfilled his mission to show us God – to show us what he called the Kingdom of God—a way of life that people live when they recognize that God is God. All that has been done. When Jesus was lifted up on the cross his mission was FINISHED; his work COMPLETED; our salvation ACCOMPLISHED.

Your new life begins when you look at Christ on the cross, then stop thinking about your own worthiness or unworthiness – stop thinking about yourself at all – but accept that all is accomplished, and give thanks to God. Amen.

Making Tough Choices

The news these days has been filled with politicians talking about making "tough choices."  It's in every other sound bite.  Pols are insisting that they must make tough choices and brag that they're willing to do so.  But if one listens carefully you are compelled to conclude that these braggarts are not making tough choices at all.  If I come to the table with my mind made up, insisting that I won't compromise, and won't listen to any other opinions, isn't it clear that I'm not making a choice at all?  My mind is made up!  I'll make demands, but I won't make a choice.

Making a fist is one of the easiest things to do.  Unclenching a fist is a lot harder.  It's no challenge going through life in a monotone "I'm tough, I'm tough, I'm tough."  That's easy.  Someone with no maturity, no imagination, no guts, and no soul can do that.  It's actually a lot more difficult to unclench one's fist, one's face, one's mind.  Only when we LISTEN to one another, and seriously consider each others' views are we able to make a tough choice or any choice at all.

A sermon on John 11:1-45

 Pay Attention!

Why did Jesus stay away? Why did he stay away from Lazarus's house when he learned that Lazarus was sick? Was he careless? Was he cruel? Was he showing off? Why the cryptic language about what he was doing? “This illness is not unto death; it is for the glory of God.” “Lazarus is dead; and for your sake I am glad that I was not there, so that you may believe.”

At first reading it sounds as though Jesus might've played a cruel trick on his good friends Lazarus, Mary and Martha. It sounds as though he used them-- “oh, here's a dead person I can raise back to life. Watch this; this is going to be great!” Does that sound like the Jesus we know? No, it doesn't. I don't think that's what he was doing.

When we look a little closer at this text, it seems to contain a lot of little details about the timing and geography of this event. It suggests to me that Jesus was well aware that he was going to go to Jerusalem and do it soon. And he knew darn well what was going to happen to him when he did. He's thinking quite a lot about his disciples: Are they ready to be on their own? Do they understand who Jesus is and what they're supposed to do? Jesus has to be wondering--Are the disciples going to freak out? Are they going to run away? Are they going to assume that the mission is all over and there's nothing left for them to do but go back to fishing?

Jesus is thinking about these things as well as other aspects of his showdown in Jerusalem when he discovers a way to give his disciples some timely experience with life and death; an opportunity to see for themselves that death is not the final word. Jesus wanted them to see a stone rolled away from a tomb door and the dead raised. Lazarus presented Jesus with that opportunity.

Jesus talks to Martha about her faith in him. He talks to his disciples about their faith in him. At first glance it sounds as if he's talking about their faith in his ability to raise Lazarus. Instead I believe he's talking about their faith – or not-- in Jesus' ability to rise from the dead himself.

Why does Jesus grieve just before he raises Lazarus? Doesn't that seem odd? He knows Lazarus isn't going to stay dead. But he's looking around and seeing Mary and Martha grieving, their friends from the city grieving (some of whom Jesus must've known), and he sees his own disciples grieving – because certainly they had met Lazarus and his family before. Jesus cries when he sees how these dear ones will grieve for him.

How could Jesus have made this lesson any clearer? In both cases, Lazarus and Jesus, there was mourning and crying. In both cases there was a body in a grave for days. In both cases there was a cave to serve as a tomb, with a stone rolled in front of the entrance.

It doesn't appear that anyone received the intended message, namely, that if Jesus raised Lazarus surely he could rise too. No one got it. But, honestly, I can't say that I blame them. I've heard about resurrection all my life, but for the people there – Jesus' disciples and all the folks in Bethany – they'd never heard of such a thing before Lazarus. And death is hard. You can't expect someone experiencing the death of a loved one to believe and trust and hope for something as strange and new as the defeat of death. I believe Jesus knew that. That – in part-- is why he cried, because he saw that despite all that he'd said and done, when it was his time to die, his friends and followers would assume that death had won, and they would cry.

We're no different. We tell each other the stories of Lazarus' and of Jesus' death and resurrection year after year, from generation to generation-- because we need to hear it, as often as we can-- because the idea of life after death still strikes us as...dubious.

What happens if we don't keep ourselves immersed in these stories? What happens if we don't teach them to our children? What happens if we don't pay attention? Then pretty soon we start to lose our familiarity with the idea of life after death. It's hard enough as it is, to keep ahold of that idea.

You know, this event, the raising of Lazarus, is a turning point in the Gospel of John. Up to this point, Jesus' popularity grows, his enemies get more upset, his miracles become more pronounced, he popularity grows, his enemies get more upset... but Jesus crosses a line here. When Jesus displays power over death his enemies stop just talking about Jesus and start putting a plot into play. This was just too much.

• Raising up the status of children was bad;
• raising up the status of foreigners was bad;
• raising up the status of women was worse;
• saying that he was the doorway to God and not the Temple and its priests – that was a frontal attack against them; that's bad!

But raising the dead? Really? Erasing the lines between life and death changes everything. It's too much. The priests have nothing like this. This makes the priests... irrelevant. Who is going to care about sacrifices in the temple when one with god-like power is walking around the suburbs? Who knows, maybe people will even turn on the priests! They never gave the people hope! They never raised the dead! Someone with the power of life over death could defeat the whole Roman Empire. Keep in mind that in the Gospel of John, Jesus is killed just before Passover. The Lamb of God is killed while the priests are killing the Passover lambs. It's all part of their plot to avoid a riot during Passover.

What they didn't know was that Jesus was bigger than Passover, bigger than the Temple culture, bigger than the Roman Empire. What they didn't know is that Jesus was the Christ, Israel's God-with-us, the long-awaited Messiah.

But we know. And knowing that we have hope in which to die. And just as amazing... hope in which to live.

Born Again

Sermon 3/20/2011 A2Lent

You must be born again. What, exactly, does that mean?

I was at a party once, during my seminary years, and a friend of a friend approached me and asked, “So you're in seminary?” “Yes,” I replied. “So you've been saved, right?” “Yes, I believe that I was.” “So when were you born again?” Now at this point I knew that what was expected of me was to tell a story about how I was living a life of sin and then something happened and I had a revelation and at a certain time and place and moment I could name, that then and there I made a decision to turn my life over to Christ and in that moment I was saved.

But that's not my story. That's not my answer. So when she asked when I was born again I said, “Somewhere around the year 30, outside of Jerusalem, Jesus was crucified for me and that's when I was saved.” I knew, before I started, that this answer would be deemed unsatisfactory. “No, that's not what I meant,” she protested. “I mean, when did you make your decision for Christ?” I said, “That doesn't matter in the least. I make decisions for Christ all the time. I can't save myself by deciding anything. I was saved when Christ made a decision for me!”

At that point the conversation ended. She decided that I was the poorest excuse for a Christian because I didn't have a cookie-cutter salvation story to tell that matched the parameters of her myopic vision.

Are we Born Again Christians? It all depends on what you mean by that? Nowadays that term is almost like a brand name. Most people use it to mean one specific thing although, technically, we are all Christians who understand ourselves to have been born again in baptism.

Evangelical is another tricky term. Nowadays it's commonly used as a brand name. Evangelical actually means one who shares the Good News. The Greek word for gospel is evangel. We are all Evangelical, technically, although we wouldn't consider ourselves that, according to the way most people now use the term. To say Christian Evangelical is redundant. But newscasters use it to mean a certain demographic and we're all supposed to know who they mean. It's what people say when they don't like the sound of “Fundamentalist.”

There have been two waves of Christian Fundamentalism. The first was during the 1920s and 1930s. Women had just received the right to vote. Churches were all but devoid of men. You couldn't find enough men to teach Sunday School or preach so women started doing it and when that happened, there was a tremendous backlash. Men decided that they had to reassert control over their uppity women. The Jesus who had been emasculated by exhibiting too much love and tenderness, was hijacked by the frightened men and made over into a butch cartoon of Jesus, 8' tall and wearing boots. In fact, Jesus was largely replaced by an angry and vengeful picture of God. This was when many of the “blood, blood, fountains of blood” hymns were written. It's when militaristic marching hymns became popular.

One of the main features of the first wave of fundamentalism was an idolatry of the Bible. Bible, Bible, Bible. Well, that alone doesn't sound so bad, until you realize that by focusing the saving power in the Written Word you can greatly de-emphasize the Living Christ. If you believe that you're saved by the Bible and you live and die by the Bible, then the control freak preaching the Bible suddenly has all kinds of power over you. Ironically, it was a woman who began preaching this message-- Amy Semple McPherson, a California tent preacher whose life wasn't so much fraught with scandals as it was one long continuous scandal!

The rise in Christian Fundamentalism is linked with the rise of women's power. The second wave of fundamentalism was essentially 1975-1985. And what happened in the late '60s and early '70s? The sexual revolution, MS Magazine, the Equal Rights Amendment, the N.O.W., bra-burning feminists in the street! It's the Whore of Babylon! (Do you know what a feminist is? A feminist is one who believes that women are fully human and fully adult. Jesus believed that.)

And while the worst of that whole episode of popular fundamentalism may be over, there is still more than enough of it to go around: the use of the Bible as a weapon, the down-playing of the role of Christ in salvation, the general put-down of women... Personally, I have never met a self-described fundamentalist who:

• could tell me what the fundamentals of Christianity are.
• knew the difference between prophecy and prediction;
• could name anything older than 20^th century ideas that were being conserved in his/her conservatism;
• understood that the Biblical portrait of “family” includes almost every imaginable configuration except the modern nuclear family;
• understands that no one, none of us, has a right to life. We always receive life as a gift;
• understood that there is no such thing as a literal interpretation of the Bible. No two fundamentalists agree. Poetry does not allow literal interpretation, nor does prophecy, or parable, nor anything translated from another language. Categorically, it cannot be interpreted literally, if it is interpreted... at... all.
• Understood that his/her arrogant nationalism bears a frighteningly uncanny resemblance to the nationalism of Israel, just before it was over-run, just as the prophets had warned.
• whose primary orientation to life was not one of fear-- fear of being “left behind.” Fear is what draws people to demagogic leaders who profess to offer clear, black-and-white answers from a magical, infallible rule book. Now, I am sometimes afraid. I have compassion for those who are afraid. We live in a world where there's much to fear. Fear, however, is not a Christ-like lifestyle or message. (It is no way to run a church!) Jesus was not fearful, nor was he a manipulative fire-and-brimstone preacher who sought to control people. Jesus' primary orientation to life and the world was one of love, not fear. Jesus taught that love casts out fear.

So we're in a strange place when we try to talk about ourselves and what we believe. We are born again, but we are not Born Again. We are evangelical, but we are not Evangelical. We practice the fundamentals, but we are not Fundamentalists. Our congregation belongs to a very liberal denomination that understands that God is not done speaking yet. The acts of Bible Study and preaching still reveal more and more about the Living Christ who can be found in the Written Word. We are invited to discuss, disagree, argue, agree to disagree – to walk with each other in love as together we prayerfully seek a life together under the saving cross of Christ.

It's all about trusting God, walking humbly, respecting each other, giving each other the benefit of the doubt when it comes to adequate belief. It's about being honest about our own limits and giving God the glory. It's about having the guts to look at each other without belittling and judging. It's just like it's always been: the hardest thing for us is to unclench, to open up, and to let the love of God in.

Every time we let that love in we are born again.

Stuff Happens

I once had the privilege of working two summers at a nuclear fuel processing plant in NY.  They didn't generate power there, just store and repackage nuclear waste.  I often joke that what I did there was cut radioactive grass with a radioactive lawnmower -- but that's a pretty apt description.  So one day I'm mowing along when I see something shiny in the grass.  I stop the mower and just before I pick up the plumber's wrench (lying 50 feet from the nearest building) I had a better idea.  I called over a safety tech to look at the wrench.  It pegged his Geiger counter!  It was hotter than blazes, throwing off rads like crazy and it's lying in the middle of the lawn.  How did it get there?  Even though all tools were supposed to be marked and traceable, we never figured out how it got there.  Things like that happened there with some frequency.  Things happened that weren't supposed to happen.

Naturally some of those memories are coming back these days as I see the damaged power plants in Japan.  The question of safe power will be back on the table now for awhile.  No one expected tsunami damage on the scale that NE Japan received last week.  But it happened any way.  Things happened that weren't supposed to happen.

Whatever forms of electrical power generation or motive power we use in the coming years had better  make allowances for human error, acts of nature, or other things that aren't supposed to happen. Because things happen that aren't supposed to happen.

Isn't it time we learned to expect the unexpected?

Japan

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.....................................Just pray for Japan...........................................

Imagine my surprise to find I have something in common with Charlton Heston.

I've been amazed in recent days at how many ways there are to lead people, represent people, and legislate people as if there were no people.  We can talk about markets, free trade, unions, jobs, deficits and budgets as if they were tidy, sterile, even theoretical things, removed and above the grubby, messy world of people and their day to day lives.  It's handy to use such clean comfortable language when discussing things like bumping people out of the middle class and into the ranks of the working poor.  Or refusing to sit at the negotiating table with them to work things out.

The problem with our neat and tidy language and our oblique discussions about our nation's attractiveness to business or our state's real-or-imagined budget crisis is that nations and states don't exist in a theoretical ether.  Behind every market, union, job, deficit, and budget is PEOPLE.  Real people.  More to the point, OUR people.  Governors and congresspeople are not elected to serve budgets.  They are not elected to serve their parties.  The are elected to serve the people who have so graciously -- and so temporarily -- given them the power they enjoy.

I may be well served by having my state's budget cut and my nation's deficit cut.  But no one is served if these things take place while robbing people of dignity, a voice, and rights.  No one is served by having their schools gutted and their public servants vilified. 

Remember the last scene in the movie Soylent Green?  Chas Heston announces his shocking discovery that "Soylent Green is people!"  Someone needs to smack a lot of our elected officials upside the head with a reminder that behind all their numbers and stats and million dollar this and trillion dollar that -- there are people!  The numbers represent people: Americans!  And none of them are our enemies!

There is an explosion in the number of Americans who aren't worried that their representatives' econonic theories aren't pure or tidy enough.  They aren't concerned that they may lose a few dollars out of their mutual funds.  They are struggling, fighting, to pay for their housing, their transportation.  They want decent clothes for their kids and food on the table.  They don't want this year's new Audi.  They want to put brakes on their 10-year old Toyota so they can  get to their three jobs!

Compassion, kindness, a little human decency -- these things are free.  And they're overdue.