Senator Kennedy’s funeral mass just concluded, a few tears still descending, compels me to voice one of many impressions inundating my being. Teddy, Jr., Patrick and President Obama, all three, deserve enormous gratitude for eulogies that, rather than glossing over the good Senator’s flaws, openly acknowledged their reality. Such openness did not overshadow the overwhelming spirit of appreciation emanating throughout the service, giving due homage to a man who, aware of his imperfections, nevertheless continued to forge ahead to do what he earnestly believed contributed to the common welfare as well as the wellbeing of his family.
So often as a pastor working with families in similar circumstances, it has seemed that the throes of grief produced an unspoken pressure to think of and say only those parts of a person’s life that are complimentary, a hidden expectation that, if followed, leaves an uneasy feeling of artificiality. It also seems to mute families’ ability to provide much help in shaping the funeral service for their loved one.
I, hereby, grant permission to any who happen to be a part of whatever service is held at my passing to be honest about their perceptions of what are surely my weaknesses, and humbly request that such openness will be expressed with understanding and mercy.
Now back to redoing a room in our house recently damaged from ground water that seeped, no gushed, in after heavy rains. From the beatific to the banal...
so, back to forging ahead.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
America's Oldest Religion
My apologies for the difficulty in reading this as originally posted a couple weeks ago. I copied and pasted it from the original sermon manuscript, and that led to a new discovery: the blog doesn't communicate well with double-spaced documents. If you went to the bother to read the earlier blog, thank you; if not, this version may be easier to decipher. Perhaps?
Prior to my retirement, many of you received manuscripts of my sermons in your e-mail inboxes, maybe because you requested them, but maybe not in some instances. One advantage of blogging is that such material can be launched into cyberspace without worrying about whether or not it is solicited. It's just out there, as if one is sealing a message in a bottle and casting it into the sea. Occassionally I am called out of retirement to preach, as happened this past Sunday, but now I don't have to be concerned about cluttering your inboxes; those who want to go to the bother can simply check my blog.
America’s Oldest Religion
Acts 17:22-28
A Guest Sermon
Central Christian Church, Fairmont, WV
August 2, 2009
A couple of factors have primed the well for this morning’s sermonic spurts. A goal for preaching that I never got around to prior to my retirement involved doing a series of sermons on different world religions as well as the various Christian traditions, the purpose of the series being to explore possible threads that may exist between these multiple faith expressions, in effect, tying them together. Having failed to achieve that goal but reluctant to let it go, I realized recently that since I am called on occasionally to pinch hit for other preachers, I could still work toward that goal, though doing so would entail a much more prolonged process—a process that, in all probability, would never be completed. But that doesn’t mean it can’t be begun.
Another factor was the trip that our Vacation Bible School scholars along with twice as many of us adults went on last Sunday, the visit to the wonderful Pittsburgh Zoo. It was a terrific way to conclude our month of Sundays focusing on the story of Noah and the Ark. Getting to spend time in such an immense array of the world’s many different species, both zoological and botanical, led to my wondering which of the religions seems to comprehend most clearly the unity of all life, the sense that life is meant to live in the kind of harmony in which the welfare of all creates the welfare of each, and the welfare of each contributes to the welfare of all. Because of the earlier portions of this morning’s service, you have already guessed the world religion that readily came to mind, the one that may very well be the first religion practiced in the Americas—Native American religion. Even though there were natural boundaries at the zoo to keep the tigers and lions out of the fields where the deer and antelope, the zebras and giraffes were grazing, there was something about seeing all of those signs of life together in one place that overawed me with the awareness of life’s relativity, life’s oneness.
St. Paul points to that oneness in this morning’s scripture reading. He was questioned by the Athenians about his God and he reassured them that the “unknown God” out of the pantheon of gods to whom they prayed was, in fact, the God of all creation, the one God of all life. This is the One who cannot be separated from the creation because this God is the Creator who is still creating. This God is all around us, this God is never far from us at anytime. “We live and move and have our being” in this God, says St. Paul.
Moreover, says Paul, this is the One who created all lands and their inhabitants, and from “one ancestor” all the nations and races of the earth. Amazingly this is one of the few places where the Bible and modern science agree! The most widely accepted scientific view today, stemming from recent archeological and genetic research, is that our species, Homo sapiens—human beings, originated in one geographical locality of Africa some 200,000 years ago, and that about 75, 000 years ago our ancestors began migrating “Out of Africa” and spreading across the globe. About 25,000 years ago the first Native Americans, having migrated to Asia began to cross the Tundra in what we now know as Russia or Southern Siberia and from there they traveled across what was, in effect, a land bridge that once connected Russia to Alaska. From Alaska they migrated throughout the American hemispheres. (Gosh! Had Sarah Palin been living then she not only could have seen Russia from her back yard, she could have walked the 600 or so miles to get there. Yeah, I know, don't give up my day job!)
So our more distant brothers and sisters made it to these shores about 24,000 years ahead of our more recent ancestors who came here by way of the Atlantic. And these earliest settlers developed wondrously rich heritages, cultures, and religions thousands of years before our particular Jewish/Christian understandings began to take shape. So, it may be productive to see if there are some similarities between the various faith understandings that they and we hold.
Census information indicates that there are 500 tribes in the United States and about 1.3 million Native Americans. These persons are as plural and diverse as those who comprise any other group. There’s nothing unusual or wrong with that. Being different is a good thing. What if we were all exactly alike? What if we all believed and felt the same way about things: “The only appropriate color for neckties is blue.” “Yes, everyone agrees.” “Women should never wear pants suits to church.” “Oh, that’s so true that everyone says so.” “Rush Limbagh should be our next president.” “Indeed, all people in the country know that.” How deadly and devastating life would be if we all agreed all the time, not to mention BORING! The differences are what make life exciting, full of zest and tang, causing both agreements and disagreements, times of delight and times of exasperation, times of closeness and times of distance. That’s the way life is.
So as all people have differences, the same is true of Native Americans. They have separate languages, customs, dances and ways of living their daily lives that are different. And that’s the reason no Native American individual, even within his or her own family, speaks for another individual. No tribe presumes to speak for another tribe. To do so is to act discourteously, if not indecently.
Even so, there are some interesting ways in which Native American stories are very similar to the stories we find in the Bible. The stories of the vision quest for the Native Americans, in which one goes out into the wilderness to be alone and clear one’s head and to seek the wisdom of the Great Spirit and get prepared for life, are similar to Jesus’ experience in the wilderness, where, he too, searched for insight through fasting and solitude until enlightenment was gained through God’s Holy and Great Spirit.
The Native American stories of visions of holy ones are no different than Moses’ encounter with God on the mountain or the narratives of Jesus’ birth. What we gather in such stories is the sense of the mysterious presence of the Creator.
A Lakota, a word meaning friend or ally, by the name of Black Elk, once had a vision of a sacred hoop (or circle) of his people which was only one of many hoops, all joined together to make one great circle, the great hoop of all peoples. In the center of the great hoop stood a powerful, sheltering, flowering tree, and gathered under it all the children of all nations. (It sort of recalls that image in the words attributed to Jesus in John’s Gospel: “In my father’s house there are many (hoops) dwelling places.”)
As you may have surmised, the circle for Native Americans is very significant. The sun is a circle; the drum is a circle; the ripples of the water are ever-widening circles. The circle means everything returns to the center of all life, to the Creator. The Great Spirit makes everything in the form of a circle. Mother Earth is a very large, powerful circle. The circle proves that life doesn’t end. It is part of the great eternal circle.
The sun dance, which Christian missionaries mistakenly took to represent pagan worship of the sun, was actually giving thanks to God for making the sun, for the sun produces life and without it, we would not exist. The dance was performed in a circle to represent the wholeness of creation.
The circle represents harmony and when it is broken or uncompleted, there is disharmony. Even today Native American understanding realizes that the circle of harmony has been broken by prejudice, contemptuousness, maliciousness, injustice and cruelty done by humans to one another. What is needed today, and what as Christians we believe Jesus comes into our lives to do, is to make the circle complete again—to close the circle in a way that includes all that is.
Spending the past week taking a closer look at Native American history, I learned some things that if taught when I was in public school, then I must have been sleeping when they were being taught. For example, did you know that the Constitution of the United States is based, in part, on the Tribal government principles of the Native Americans? Or, are you aware that our present-day emphasis on ecology, on earth days or green days or whatever it is we are calling it, has always been a part of Native American belief, a belief that the earth is a living place to be respected and cared for and nurtured and nourished.
My review of Native American heritage also made me aware of how the Hollywood image of Native Americans has been a cruel caricature of who these people really are—with one possible exception, the film some years back, Dances with Wolves. And I had a good laugh when I came across the meaning of the phrase of “Kemo Sabe.” How many of you remember the phrase? Ah, all of us above a certain age. That was the name Tonto gave to the Lone Ranger, and I’ve always believed that it meant “faithful friend.” (Heads nodding) But according to Fred Shaw, the official story teller for the Shawnee nation, that’s not what it means. It really means, “Soggy Shrub” or “He who does nothing.” Way to go, Tonto!
Native Americans see all races as brothers and sisters and have been taught by their ancestors that there are four nations on the earth—the black nation, the red nation, the yellow nation, and the white nation. According to Ed McGaa, a Dakota Native American, there are four commandments from the Great Spirit of the Indian tradition: (1) respect for Mother Earth; (2) respect for the Great Spirit; (3) respect for all humankind, and (4) respect for individual freedom (provided it doesn’t threaten the tribe or the people of Mother Earth).
You may have guessed that the sacred number for Native Americans is four. There are the four seasons and the four directions on the earth. The sacred color of the west is black to represent the setting of the sun; of the north, white, to represent the snow; of the east, red, to represent the rising sun; of the south, yellow, to represent the growing of wheat and other grains. And these sacred colors are the reasons we cannot be prejudiced—all people are related by the seasons and directions, and all have the same mother, Mother Earth.
Today we are invited by our Native American sisters and brothers to realize that if we are to survive, that will mean working together to close the circle again until it encompasses the center of all life in the heart of God.
Prior to my retirement, many of you received manuscripts of my sermons in your e-mail inboxes, maybe because you requested them, but maybe not in some instances. One advantage of blogging is that such material can be launched into cyberspace without worrying about whether or not it is solicited. It's just out there, as if one is sealing a message in a bottle and casting it into the sea. Occassionally I am called out of retirement to preach, as happened this past Sunday, but now I don't have to be concerned about cluttering your inboxes; those who want to go to the bother can simply check my blog.
America’s Oldest Religion
Acts 17:22-28
A Guest Sermon
Central Christian Church, Fairmont, WV
August 2, 2009
A couple of factors have primed the well for this morning’s sermonic spurts. A goal for preaching that I never got around to prior to my retirement involved doing a series of sermons on different world religions as well as the various Christian traditions, the purpose of the series being to explore possible threads that may exist between these multiple faith expressions, in effect, tying them together. Having failed to achieve that goal but reluctant to let it go, I realized recently that since I am called on occasionally to pinch hit for other preachers, I could still work toward that goal, though doing so would entail a much more prolonged process—a process that, in all probability, would never be completed. But that doesn’t mean it can’t be begun.
Another factor was the trip that our Vacation Bible School scholars along with twice as many of us adults went on last Sunday, the visit to the wonderful Pittsburgh Zoo. It was a terrific way to conclude our month of Sundays focusing on the story of Noah and the Ark. Getting to spend time in such an immense array of the world’s many different species, both zoological and botanical, led to my wondering which of the religions seems to comprehend most clearly the unity of all life, the sense that life is meant to live in the kind of harmony in which the welfare of all creates the welfare of each, and the welfare of each contributes to the welfare of all. Because of the earlier portions of this morning’s service, you have already guessed the world religion that readily came to mind, the one that may very well be the first religion practiced in the Americas—Native American religion. Even though there were natural boundaries at the zoo to keep the tigers and lions out of the fields where the deer and antelope, the zebras and giraffes were grazing, there was something about seeing all of those signs of life together in one place that overawed me with the awareness of life’s relativity, life’s oneness.
St. Paul points to that oneness in this morning’s scripture reading. He was questioned by the Athenians about his God and he reassured them that the “unknown God” out of the pantheon of gods to whom they prayed was, in fact, the God of all creation, the one God of all life. This is the One who cannot be separated from the creation because this God is the Creator who is still creating. This God is all around us, this God is never far from us at anytime. “We live and move and have our being” in this God, says St. Paul.
Moreover, says Paul, this is the One who created all lands and their inhabitants, and from “one ancestor” all the nations and races of the earth. Amazingly this is one of the few places where the Bible and modern science agree! The most widely accepted scientific view today, stemming from recent archeological and genetic research, is that our species, Homo sapiens—human beings, originated in one geographical locality of Africa some 200,000 years ago, and that about 75, 000 years ago our ancestors began migrating “Out of Africa” and spreading across the globe. About 25,000 years ago the first Native Americans, having migrated to Asia began to cross the Tundra in what we now know as Russia or Southern Siberia and from there they traveled across what was, in effect, a land bridge that once connected Russia to Alaska. From Alaska they migrated throughout the American hemispheres. (Gosh! Had Sarah Palin been living then she not only could have seen Russia from her back yard, she could have walked the 600 or so miles to get there. Yeah, I know, don't give up my day job!)
So our more distant brothers and sisters made it to these shores about 24,000 years ahead of our more recent ancestors who came here by way of the Atlantic. And these earliest settlers developed wondrously rich heritages, cultures, and religions thousands of years before our particular Jewish/Christian understandings began to take shape. So, it may be productive to see if there are some similarities between the various faith understandings that they and we hold.
Census information indicates that there are 500 tribes in the United States and about 1.3 million Native Americans. These persons are as plural and diverse as those who comprise any other group. There’s nothing unusual or wrong with that. Being different is a good thing. What if we were all exactly alike? What if we all believed and felt the same way about things: “The only appropriate color for neckties is blue.” “Yes, everyone agrees.” “Women should never wear pants suits to church.” “Oh, that’s so true that everyone says so.” “Rush Limbagh should be our next president.” “Indeed, all people in the country know that.” How deadly and devastating life would be if we all agreed all the time, not to mention BORING! The differences are what make life exciting, full of zest and tang, causing both agreements and disagreements, times of delight and times of exasperation, times of closeness and times of distance. That’s the way life is.
So as all people have differences, the same is true of Native Americans. They have separate languages, customs, dances and ways of living their daily lives that are different. And that’s the reason no Native American individual, even within his or her own family, speaks for another individual. No tribe presumes to speak for another tribe. To do so is to act discourteously, if not indecently.
Even so, there are some interesting ways in which Native American stories are very similar to the stories we find in the Bible. The stories of the vision quest for the Native Americans, in which one goes out into the wilderness to be alone and clear one’s head and to seek the wisdom of the Great Spirit and get prepared for life, are similar to Jesus’ experience in the wilderness, where, he too, searched for insight through fasting and solitude until enlightenment was gained through God’s Holy and Great Spirit.
The Native American stories of visions of holy ones are no different than Moses’ encounter with God on the mountain or the narratives of Jesus’ birth. What we gather in such stories is the sense of the mysterious presence of the Creator.
A Lakota, a word meaning friend or ally, by the name of Black Elk, once had a vision of a sacred hoop (or circle) of his people which was only one of many hoops, all joined together to make one great circle, the great hoop of all peoples. In the center of the great hoop stood a powerful, sheltering, flowering tree, and gathered under it all the children of all nations. (It sort of recalls that image in the words attributed to Jesus in John’s Gospel: “In my father’s house there are many (hoops) dwelling places.”)
As you may have surmised, the circle for Native Americans is very significant. The sun is a circle; the drum is a circle; the ripples of the water are ever-widening circles. The circle means everything returns to the center of all life, to the Creator. The Great Spirit makes everything in the form of a circle. Mother Earth is a very large, powerful circle. The circle proves that life doesn’t end. It is part of the great eternal circle.
The sun dance, which Christian missionaries mistakenly took to represent pagan worship of the sun, was actually giving thanks to God for making the sun, for the sun produces life and without it, we would not exist. The dance was performed in a circle to represent the wholeness of creation.
The circle represents harmony and when it is broken or uncompleted, there is disharmony. Even today Native American understanding realizes that the circle of harmony has been broken by prejudice, contemptuousness, maliciousness, injustice and cruelty done by humans to one another. What is needed today, and what as Christians we believe Jesus comes into our lives to do, is to make the circle complete again—to close the circle in a way that includes all that is.
Spending the past week taking a closer look at Native American history, I learned some things that if taught when I was in public school, then I must have been sleeping when they were being taught. For example, did you know that the Constitution of the United States is based, in part, on the Tribal government principles of the Native Americans? Or, are you aware that our present-day emphasis on ecology, on earth days or green days or whatever it is we are calling it, has always been a part of Native American belief, a belief that the earth is a living place to be respected and cared for and nurtured and nourished.
My review of Native American heritage also made me aware of how the Hollywood image of Native Americans has been a cruel caricature of who these people really are—with one possible exception, the film some years back, Dances with Wolves. And I had a good laugh when I came across the meaning of the phrase of “Kemo Sabe.” How many of you remember the phrase? Ah, all of us above a certain age. That was the name Tonto gave to the Lone Ranger, and I’ve always believed that it meant “faithful friend.” (Heads nodding) But according to Fred Shaw, the official story teller for the Shawnee nation, that’s not what it means. It really means, “Soggy Shrub” or “He who does nothing.” Way to go, Tonto!
Native Americans see all races as brothers and sisters and have been taught by their ancestors that there are four nations on the earth—the black nation, the red nation, the yellow nation, and the white nation. According to Ed McGaa, a Dakota Native American, there are four commandments from the Great Spirit of the Indian tradition: (1) respect for Mother Earth; (2) respect for the Great Spirit; (3) respect for all humankind, and (4) respect for individual freedom (provided it doesn’t threaten the tribe or the people of Mother Earth).
You may have guessed that the sacred number for Native Americans is four. There are the four seasons and the four directions on the earth. The sacred color of the west is black to represent the setting of the sun; of the north, white, to represent the snow; of the east, red, to represent the rising sun; of the south, yellow, to represent the growing of wheat and other grains. And these sacred colors are the reasons we cannot be prejudiced—all people are related by the seasons and directions, and all have the same mother, Mother Earth.
Today we are invited by our Native American sisters and brothers to realize that if we are to survive, that will mean working together to close the circle again until it encompasses the center of all life in the heart of God.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Response to Fowarded Nonsense
This morning a forwarded piece showed up in my inbox, and my impulsive nature refused to be curtailed. My reply to the piece has already been sent to the sender and recipients. I am copying it here with identities protected simply as another post to my blog page.
Dear friend _____,
The e-mail below, purported to have been forwarded by you, is determined by Snopes.com to be false. The piece, attributed to Andy Rooney, first appeared in 2003, but he did not say these things; in fact, the Snopes' article includes comments by Rooney indicating his disgust and offense at the statements made in his name. (Found on Snopes under the title "Andy Rooney's Political Views")
Honestly, I was surprised that you forwarded it and am wondering if some Trojan worm has infected your computer and committed this deed under your imprimatur. Knowing you as I do, I have decided that is the case.
Even so, I am caving into the impulse to respond to several of the points contained in the piece, and would be interested in any responses you or any of the other recipients may have.
The problem with the Internet is that it allows for unsubstantiated legends to emerge in much the same way that the Bible evolved. Because the Bible was written in a pre-scientific age, people tended to believe any of the yarns that were woven around the campfires while the sheep were dozing or grazing in the field. It was a time when people believed stuff simply because someone told it--and what may have been intended as metaphorical took on literalistic overtones in later generations. It seems the Internet has returned us to a similar time--if it appears on the Net, then it must be true. Sounds like biblical literalism to me, but as Judge Judy says over and over again, "If it doesn't make sense, then it isn't true." Immediately upon reading the piece it didn't make sense that Andy Rooney would say such things, and a quick look at Snopes.com revealed that, indeed, he didn't.
Obviously whoever the author is, s/he is motivated by racist/sexist/ethnic/homophobic leanings. Rooney in his response makes the same point, and goes so far as to say that he is offended that anyone would believe that he would make such statements. He is a more sophisticated thinker than the author of the piece makes him out to be.
Then there's the bit about legal or illegal residents in America learning to speak English. Having just returned from a very hot and humid trip in Florida, and witnessing migrant workers tending the orange groves and other agricultural pursuits from sun up to sun down, doing back-breaking work for sub-standard pay, and if news reports are to be believed, sending most of their meager compensation back to Mexico to support their families (all made possible because no American citizen would agree to do such work under such conditions for such a pittance), I find it just a tad unreasonable to require English as a pre-condition to do work that we Americans won't do. Not only so, but some futurist studies are indicating that if persons are not bi-lingual in the coming generations, they will be regarded as disadvantaged. Maybe rather than expecting everyone to be just like us, we might do well to develop fluency in other languages and cultures, if, for no other reason than that we wish to avoid intensive labor in oppressively hot and humid orange groves.
As you know, I am a child of parents whose communication was bi-lingual: written English and Sign Language, which is not English (though there are attempts to turn it into English) but is classified as a foreign language. Because my parents were deaf, they could not hear the names they were called by peers at work or buddies at the Moose Club or neighbors in the street, but my sister and I could: dummies, crazy, weird, stupid, to say nothing of the mocking gestures behind their backs (some of which included that infamously flipping middle finger). While I cannot know what it is like to be a part of a racial or ethnic minority in an intolerant society, perhaps I do possess some kinship with those who are, and I am deeply offended and hurt when a kind of narrative as this one lands in my inbox.
And, I'm sorry, but it absolutely does take a village to raise a child. Had there not been other significant, credible adults in my life growing up in a government housing project with parents who were looked down on because of their disability, I'd probably be in prison now. It was because of caring youth advisers at church, the few good teachers at school, and humane neighbors and friends that I was able to see broader horizons and have hope that something more was possible. Whoever wrote this piece sounds like a man very much like my father: abusive and troubled in a way that led to severe acting out. Thank God for the other gentler people in my life.
The fact that this piece is resurfacing now after having originated six years ago is curious. Let's see: we have an African American as President, there's a woman who is Secretary of State, there's that imbroglio about Professor Gates and racial profiling, there's the hullabaloo about gays in the military, etc. Hmmmm, is this coincidence?
The author of this diatribe invokes God, as if somehow the opinions he expresses are sanctioned by God. I remember saying the Pledge of Allegiance before the phrase "under God" was included, and I remember how at first it was difficult to say it the "new" way. But if saying "under God" means that we are saying that God relates only to English speaking, non-alien, intolerant, prejudiced, homophobic, pure-lily-white folk, then I'll have to omit the phrase when asked to say the pledge. I understand the Australians also have the same phrase in their pledge, but their parliament made it legal for people to choose to include it or not. And we say we believe in the separation of church and state.
Speaking now as an Ordained Christian (though retired) pastor, I must object to any understanding about God that does not profess that the Divine relates to all creation and to all peoples--English speaking or not--Muslim, Buddhist, Atheist--even the bigot who wrote this article and sought to give it credence by attributing it to a well-known journalist--urging all of life toward less hurtful wounding and more healing wholeness.
Once again, _____, I am choosing to believe the forward of this article is some kind of cybernetic fluke. You have never come across to me as someone who would support the kind of sentiments reflected in this article. I am presently reading James Bamford's THE SHADOW FACTORY, a cumbersome, yet convincingly detailed expose of the capabilities that Big Brother has acquired in cybernetic technology. Who knows where such urban legends as this originate or who is responsible for passing them on?
Polly and I are looking forward to being with you and ____ at the beach in September.
Peace,
Jim N.
Dear friend _____,
The e-mail below, purported to have been forwarded by you, is determined by Snopes.com to be false. The piece, attributed to Andy Rooney, first appeared in 2003, but he did not say these things; in fact, the Snopes' article includes comments by Rooney indicating his disgust and offense at the statements made in his name. (Found on Snopes under the title "Andy Rooney's Political Views")
Honestly, I was surprised that you forwarded it and am wondering if some Trojan worm has infected your computer and committed this deed under your imprimatur. Knowing you as I do, I have decided that is the case.
Even so, I am caving into the impulse to respond to several of the points contained in the piece, and would be interested in any responses you or any of the other recipients may have.
The problem with the Internet is that it allows for unsubstantiated legends to emerge in much the same way that the Bible evolved. Because the Bible was written in a pre-scientific age, people tended to believe any of the yarns that were woven around the campfires while the sheep were dozing or grazing in the field. It was a time when people believed stuff simply because someone told it--and what may have been intended as metaphorical took on literalistic overtones in later generations. It seems the Internet has returned us to a similar time--if it appears on the Net, then it must be true. Sounds like biblical literalism to me, but as Judge Judy says over and over again, "If it doesn't make sense, then it isn't true." Immediately upon reading the piece it didn't make sense that Andy Rooney would say such things, and a quick look at Snopes.com revealed that, indeed, he didn't.
Obviously whoever the author is, s/he is motivated by racist/sexist/ethnic/homophobic leanings. Rooney in his response makes the same point, and goes so far as to say that he is offended that anyone would believe that he would make such statements. He is a more sophisticated thinker than the author of the piece makes him out to be.
Then there's the bit about legal or illegal residents in America learning to speak English. Having just returned from a very hot and humid trip in Florida, and witnessing migrant workers tending the orange groves and other agricultural pursuits from sun up to sun down, doing back-breaking work for sub-standard pay, and if news reports are to be believed, sending most of their meager compensation back to Mexico to support their families (all made possible because no American citizen would agree to do such work under such conditions for such a pittance), I find it just a tad unreasonable to require English as a pre-condition to do work that we Americans won't do. Not only so, but some futurist studies are indicating that if persons are not bi-lingual in the coming generations, they will be regarded as disadvantaged. Maybe rather than expecting everyone to be just like us, we might do well to develop fluency in other languages and cultures, if, for no other reason than that we wish to avoid intensive labor in oppressively hot and humid orange groves.
As you know, I am a child of parents whose communication was bi-lingual: written English and Sign Language, which is not English (though there are attempts to turn it into English) but is classified as a foreign language. Because my parents were deaf, they could not hear the names they were called by peers at work or buddies at the Moose Club or neighbors in the street, but my sister and I could: dummies, crazy, weird, stupid, to say nothing of the mocking gestures behind their backs (some of which included that infamously flipping middle finger). While I cannot know what it is like to be a part of a racial or ethnic minority in an intolerant society, perhaps I do possess some kinship with those who are, and I am deeply offended and hurt when a kind of narrative as this one lands in my inbox.
And, I'm sorry, but it absolutely does take a village to raise a child. Had there not been other significant, credible adults in my life growing up in a government housing project with parents who were looked down on because of their disability, I'd probably be in prison now. It was because of caring youth advisers at church, the few good teachers at school, and humane neighbors and friends that I was able to see broader horizons and have hope that something more was possible. Whoever wrote this piece sounds like a man very much like my father: abusive and troubled in a way that led to severe acting out. Thank God for the other gentler people in my life.
The fact that this piece is resurfacing now after having originated six years ago is curious. Let's see: we have an African American as President, there's a woman who is Secretary of State, there's that imbroglio about Professor Gates and racial profiling, there's the hullabaloo about gays in the military, etc. Hmmmm, is this coincidence?
The author of this diatribe invokes God, as if somehow the opinions he expresses are sanctioned by God. I remember saying the Pledge of Allegiance before the phrase "under God" was included, and I remember how at first it was difficult to say it the "new" way. But if saying "under God" means that we are saying that God relates only to English speaking, non-alien, intolerant, prejudiced, homophobic, pure-lily-white folk, then I'll have to omit the phrase when asked to say the pledge. I understand the Australians also have the same phrase in their pledge, but their parliament made it legal for people to choose to include it or not. And we say we believe in the separation of church and state.
Speaking now as an Ordained Christian (though retired) pastor, I must object to any understanding about God that does not profess that the Divine relates to all creation and to all peoples--English speaking or not--Muslim, Buddhist, Atheist--even the bigot who wrote this article and sought to give it credence by attributing it to a well-known journalist--urging all of life toward less hurtful wounding and more healing wholeness.
Once again, _____, I am choosing to believe the forward of this article is some kind of cybernetic fluke. You have never come across to me as someone who would support the kind of sentiments reflected in this article. I am presently reading James Bamford's THE SHADOW FACTORY, a cumbersome, yet convincingly detailed expose of the capabilities that Big Brother has acquired in cybernetic technology. Who knows where such urban legends as this originate or who is responsible for passing them on?
Polly and I are looking forward to being with you and ____ at the beach in September.
Peace,
Jim N.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Swim Clubs and the Like
The news coverage a few weeks ago of the Huntingdon Valley Swim Club reneging on its contract to permit children from a Northeast Philadelphia day camp to swim one day a week in its pool sparked memories of similar instances in both personal and vocational encounters over the years.
The first thing our family noticed when we moved into a parsonage located in a neighborhood that was considered the most “up-scale” place to live in the state was a swimming pool a stone’s throw down the hill from our residence. That was in June, 1986. As our son was 14 years old at the time, we immediately imagined that he would be able to go to the pool and maybe even make some friends before school began in the fall. That was faulty assuming, and you know what they say about those who assume.
On further investigation, we discovered that it was a private swim club, and that to become a member cost $300 plus an annual maintenance assessment, the amount of which was variable according to the expenses incurred. We couldn’t afford to join. Later we learned that the family living in the parsonage before us had convinced the church to pay for a blanket club membership for any family occupying the parsonage, but that idea was soundly rejected by the swim club association because “there was no way of knowing ‘who’ might move into the parsonage.”
As I said above, this neighborhood was considered the crème de la crème of places to live. Once when standing in a lunch line with friends at a meeting being held at the other end of the state, a stranger standing in front of me heard me say something about where I lived and, turning around she exclaimed, “You live in _____ _____, oooooohhhhhh how wonderful for you! I was not complimented. It’s a wonder the neighborhood wasn’t “gated,” because that seems to be the trend for residential areas where the inhabitants are corporate executives, lawyers, doctors, politicians, educators as well as the few families, like ours, that manage to worm their way in.
Another episode while living there may help to make the point. The elementary school in the neighborhood was overcrowded. Portable classrooms were placed on the school’s small campus to provide additional instructional space, nearly using up all the available land. The Board of Education, wisely, they assumed, (remember what they say about assuming) devised a plan where some of the children from this neighborhood would be bussed to the fairly new school building just down the hill in the valley below.
Problem: Even though that modern building was built to accommodate 90 students and was being under used, it had the unfortunate malady of being located in the community where the “creekers” lived, the name given to the less obviously advantaged families living along the creek. When the “up-scale” families on top of the hill caught wind of what the BOE was devising, those movers and shakers did what they know how to do best, and the plan to alleviate the over-crowded conditions were scuttled. Not only so, but the BOE, for economic reasons, was forced to close the new facility in the valley, cram more portable classrooms onto the already overcrowded campus, and bus the few children from the valley to the prestigious school on top of the hill.
By the way, the hilltop school proudly claimed at the time that 93% of its students were “gifted.” I knew some of those children, and if they were gifted, then when I was their age, I was the equivalent of an Einstein. (Believe me, I was not!) Perhaps their giftedness was more an indication of the political pressure their parents could bring to bear on such decisions.
So egregious was the reversal of the BOE’s plan that yours truly couldn’t resist speaking to the issue from the pulpit. That along with other perceived judgmental attitudes and failures on my part may have helped to lead to my being “fired” from that assignment, the only time I have ever received such distinction in my years as a pastor.
Please don’t think that I am saying the people on the hilltop were bad or vicious or conniving or mean-spirited. While I may have harbored such suspicions at one time, I have long ago let such thoughts go. In fact, most of that congregation was comprised of very intelligent, skilled and compassionate individuals, some of whom I continue to hold in deep respect and appreciation, with a fondness that brings delight when remembering them.
So how do I understand the kinds of prejudicial behavior that seemed to manifest itself during those years in that place? My thinking now is that these eruptions were more the result of values coming up against one another. If ethics or morality is inherent in the universe’s creation, then it seems that humanity is at its best when it aligns itself with whatever the ethical principles are. As Christians, we profess that the highest ethical value is found in the love of God, neighbor and self, which suggests a kind of mutual behavior toward all of life (including oneself) in constructive ways, ways that build up and help all of life become what, by God, it is meant to be.
But reality often presents conflicts between what is best for one part of life over another. The good parents of the exclusive neighborhood decided, rightly or wrongly, that the good of their own children was preferable to any consideration given to possible benefits for all children. That is understandable; we all want what we perceive is best for our own children.
Yet, as one who grew up in a government housing project (a “creeker” of sorts), and at the same time, as one who grew up in a very prestigious downtown church, I’m led to the conclusion that the aforementioned hilltop community where I served for a short while was honestly mistaken. My growing up in a congregation of movers and shakers, being friends with children of all economic strata, being invited to the homes of the very affluent and included in their family activities, being treated as worthy along with the children of the “pikers,” (the wealthier people who lived “out the pike”) has made a dramatic difference in my own life. When did it happen that the more affluent lost sight of how their abundance placed upon them greater responsibility for the community’s well-being? What led to their building fences and gates around their neighborhoods rather than reaching down into the valleys to lift others up? As Jesus is purported to have put it: “From everyone to whom much has been given, much will be required; and from the one to whom much has been entrusted, even more will be demanded.” (St. Luke 12:48 NRSV)
The first thing our family noticed when we moved into a parsonage located in a neighborhood that was considered the most “up-scale” place to live in the state was a swimming pool a stone’s throw down the hill from our residence. That was in June, 1986. As our son was 14 years old at the time, we immediately imagined that he would be able to go to the pool and maybe even make some friends before school began in the fall. That was faulty assuming, and you know what they say about those who assume.
On further investigation, we discovered that it was a private swim club, and that to become a member cost $300 plus an annual maintenance assessment, the amount of which was variable according to the expenses incurred. We couldn’t afford to join. Later we learned that the family living in the parsonage before us had convinced the church to pay for a blanket club membership for any family occupying the parsonage, but that idea was soundly rejected by the swim club association because “there was no way of knowing ‘who’ might move into the parsonage.”
As I said above, this neighborhood was considered the crème de la crème of places to live. Once when standing in a lunch line with friends at a meeting being held at the other end of the state, a stranger standing in front of me heard me say something about where I lived and, turning around she exclaimed, “You live in _____ _____, oooooohhhhhh how wonderful for you! I was not complimented. It’s a wonder the neighborhood wasn’t “gated,” because that seems to be the trend for residential areas where the inhabitants are corporate executives, lawyers, doctors, politicians, educators as well as the few families, like ours, that manage to worm their way in.
Another episode while living there may help to make the point. The elementary school in the neighborhood was overcrowded. Portable classrooms were placed on the school’s small campus to provide additional instructional space, nearly using up all the available land. The Board of Education, wisely, they assumed, (remember what they say about assuming) devised a plan where some of the children from this neighborhood would be bussed to the fairly new school building just down the hill in the valley below.
Problem: Even though that modern building was built to accommodate 90 students and was being under used, it had the unfortunate malady of being located in the community where the “creekers” lived, the name given to the less obviously advantaged families living along the creek. When the “up-scale” families on top of the hill caught wind of what the BOE was devising, those movers and shakers did what they know how to do best, and the plan to alleviate the over-crowded conditions were scuttled. Not only so, but the BOE, for economic reasons, was forced to close the new facility in the valley, cram more portable classrooms onto the already overcrowded campus, and bus the few children from the valley to the prestigious school on top of the hill.
By the way, the hilltop school proudly claimed at the time that 93% of its students were “gifted.” I knew some of those children, and if they were gifted, then when I was their age, I was the equivalent of an Einstein. (Believe me, I was not!) Perhaps their giftedness was more an indication of the political pressure their parents could bring to bear on such decisions.
So egregious was the reversal of the BOE’s plan that yours truly couldn’t resist speaking to the issue from the pulpit. That along with other perceived judgmental attitudes and failures on my part may have helped to lead to my being “fired” from that assignment, the only time I have ever received such distinction in my years as a pastor.
Please don’t think that I am saying the people on the hilltop were bad or vicious or conniving or mean-spirited. While I may have harbored such suspicions at one time, I have long ago let such thoughts go. In fact, most of that congregation was comprised of very intelligent, skilled and compassionate individuals, some of whom I continue to hold in deep respect and appreciation, with a fondness that brings delight when remembering them.
So how do I understand the kinds of prejudicial behavior that seemed to manifest itself during those years in that place? My thinking now is that these eruptions were more the result of values coming up against one another. If ethics or morality is inherent in the universe’s creation, then it seems that humanity is at its best when it aligns itself with whatever the ethical principles are. As Christians, we profess that the highest ethical value is found in the love of God, neighbor and self, which suggests a kind of mutual behavior toward all of life (including oneself) in constructive ways, ways that build up and help all of life become what, by God, it is meant to be.
But reality often presents conflicts between what is best for one part of life over another. The good parents of the exclusive neighborhood decided, rightly or wrongly, that the good of their own children was preferable to any consideration given to possible benefits for all children. That is understandable; we all want what we perceive is best for our own children.
Yet, as one who grew up in a government housing project (a “creeker” of sorts), and at the same time, as one who grew up in a very prestigious downtown church, I’m led to the conclusion that the aforementioned hilltop community where I served for a short while was honestly mistaken. My growing up in a congregation of movers and shakers, being friends with children of all economic strata, being invited to the homes of the very affluent and included in their family activities, being treated as worthy along with the children of the “pikers,” (the wealthier people who lived “out the pike”) has made a dramatic difference in my own life. When did it happen that the more affluent lost sight of how their abundance placed upon them greater responsibility for the community’s well-being? What led to their building fences and gates around their neighborhoods rather than reaching down into the valleys to lift others up? As Jesus is purported to have put it: “From everyone to whom much has been given, much will be required; and from the one to whom much has been entrusted, even more will be demanded.” (St. Luke 12:48 NRSV)
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Pastoral Identity
Pastor Josh (Joshua Patty of Central Christian Church, Fairmont) revealed a clue to his identity as a preacher in his sermon this past Sunday. He said something about standing in the tradition of preachers who were biblical scholars. That is certainly true! Josh has a thorough grasp of biblical languages as well as an excellent grasp of the history and culture of biblical times. Moreover, he possesses the kind of sensitivity and creativity that is able to translate complex historical realities in ways that make them come alive today. What a thrill it is every week to hear good preaching!
Interestingly, no sooner did the phrase “biblical scholars” leave Josh’s lips than another preacher came to mind, actually the preacher who resides as the “first preacher” in my memory: Dr. William Knox. He was pastor at the UM church where I grew up, having served there from the time I was eight to twelve. While any kid of elementary age could not be expected to have precise memories of the content of a preacher’s words, let alone his character, for some reason he immediately came to mind at the mention of “biblical scholars.” Born in England in 1888, Dr. Knox was educated there, and began serving congregations there as well. Then he immigrated to the U.S. and spent the rest of his years as a pastor and District Superintendent in West Virginia Methodism.
So why was he the first to surface at the suggestion of biblical competence? Was it because of memories of his working with us as children, helping us to construct such things as magazine racks as a part of our summer Vacation Bible School experience? Perhaps. Was it because when as a college student years later, I received a complete set of the Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible, which had just come off the presses, a gift out of the blue from Dr. Knox who somehow learned that I was preparing to enter the ministry? Perhaps. Was it because of that time I bumped into him at the book display at Annual Conference (back in the Sixties when Conference sessions actually were the legislative sessions they are supposed to be, where honest and lively debate for the good of church and community was allowed), and he pointed me to the writings of Paul Tillich, strongly urging me in the direction of Tillich’s bridge-building understandings? Perhaps.
Most of all, however, Dr. Knox readily emerged from memory because he was looked up to and respected as a biblical scholar. This memory of childhood may be more anecdotal than objective, but it does seem that preachers of that time who possessed skill and care had an easier time earning the admiration of both congregants and the larger community.
A related memory, this time from high school days, involves the time the principal invited another of the pastors of the church in which I was raised to deliver a talk that same pastor had given to the Rotary Club the week before. So impressed was the principal with the speech, which revolved around an Easter theme, that he cancelled classes for a school-wide assembly, just so the school’s faculty and students would get to hear it. No principal in his right mind would have the slightest inclination to host such an event today.
Indeed, things are different today. Two days before this past Christmas, another retired UM pastor and I bumped into each other at a local mall, coincidentally doing the same thing: waiting for our wives to emerge from one of the stores in those last minutes of Christmas craziness. The other pastor is highly recognized for his stellar record, both in pastoral and “superintending” roles. His service includes appointment to some of West Virginia’s most prestigious churches as well as election to both state and national high offices. The longer the two of us stood there talking, the more our “shop-talk” focused on the frustration we both admitted to over the way things seem to be going in the church today. He commented that he shutters to think what the church will be like in 20 years and was happy that he wouldn’t be around to see it. I concurred. I offered that the ministry would not be among my choices if I had to decide on a vocation today. He concurred.
Our dismay seemed to revolve around lower standards for preachers and perceived congregational (consumerist) pressure to never ruffle feathers, but to advocate always a Gospel message that is pleasingly positive and entertaining to everyone. Yeah, right! Pastors who attempt to meet such unreal expectations usually go around all the time wearing shitty grins. What’s worse, the Christian Gospel becomes something that is not Christ, nor anything like him!
One more story to underline the point: Getting ready to move from a congregation I was serving to accept new responsibilities elsewhere, I learned from a member of the PPRC (basically, the new pastor search committee) that the group instructed the District Superintendent as to what they were looking for in their new pastor. Their stated preferences were for a pastor who would be “less intellectual, less experienced, and cheaper.” How different that is from the time when congregations worked to attract the most skilled and caring ministers for their pulpits and parishes.
Forging ahead…..
Interestingly, no sooner did the phrase “biblical scholars” leave Josh’s lips than another preacher came to mind, actually the preacher who resides as the “first preacher” in my memory: Dr. William Knox. He was pastor at the UM church where I grew up, having served there from the time I was eight to twelve. While any kid of elementary age could not be expected to have precise memories of the content of a preacher’s words, let alone his character, for some reason he immediately came to mind at the mention of “biblical scholars.” Born in England in 1888, Dr. Knox was educated there, and began serving congregations there as well. Then he immigrated to the U.S. and spent the rest of his years as a pastor and District Superintendent in West Virginia Methodism.
So why was he the first to surface at the suggestion of biblical competence? Was it because of memories of his working with us as children, helping us to construct such things as magazine racks as a part of our summer Vacation Bible School experience? Perhaps. Was it because when as a college student years later, I received a complete set of the Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible, which had just come off the presses, a gift out of the blue from Dr. Knox who somehow learned that I was preparing to enter the ministry? Perhaps. Was it because of that time I bumped into him at the book display at Annual Conference (back in the Sixties when Conference sessions actually were the legislative sessions they are supposed to be, where honest and lively debate for the good of church and community was allowed), and he pointed me to the writings of Paul Tillich, strongly urging me in the direction of Tillich’s bridge-building understandings? Perhaps.
Most of all, however, Dr. Knox readily emerged from memory because he was looked up to and respected as a biblical scholar. This memory of childhood may be more anecdotal than objective, but it does seem that preachers of that time who possessed skill and care had an easier time earning the admiration of both congregants and the larger community.
A related memory, this time from high school days, involves the time the principal invited another of the pastors of the church in which I was raised to deliver a talk that same pastor had given to the Rotary Club the week before. So impressed was the principal with the speech, which revolved around an Easter theme, that he cancelled classes for a school-wide assembly, just so the school’s faculty and students would get to hear it. No principal in his right mind would have the slightest inclination to host such an event today.
Indeed, things are different today. Two days before this past Christmas, another retired UM pastor and I bumped into each other at a local mall, coincidentally doing the same thing: waiting for our wives to emerge from one of the stores in those last minutes of Christmas craziness. The other pastor is highly recognized for his stellar record, both in pastoral and “superintending” roles. His service includes appointment to some of West Virginia’s most prestigious churches as well as election to both state and national high offices. The longer the two of us stood there talking, the more our “shop-talk” focused on the frustration we both admitted to over the way things seem to be going in the church today. He commented that he shutters to think what the church will be like in 20 years and was happy that he wouldn’t be around to see it. I concurred. I offered that the ministry would not be among my choices if I had to decide on a vocation today. He concurred.
Our dismay seemed to revolve around lower standards for preachers and perceived congregational (consumerist) pressure to never ruffle feathers, but to advocate always a Gospel message that is pleasingly positive and entertaining to everyone. Yeah, right! Pastors who attempt to meet such unreal expectations usually go around all the time wearing shitty grins. What’s worse, the Christian Gospel becomes something that is not Christ, nor anything like him!
One more story to underline the point: Getting ready to move from a congregation I was serving to accept new responsibilities elsewhere, I learned from a member of the PPRC (basically, the new pastor search committee) that the group instructed the District Superintendent as to what they were looking for in their new pastor. Their stated preferences were for a pastor who would be “less intellectual, less experienced, and cheaper.” How different that is from the time when congregations worked to attract the most skilled and caring ministers for their pulpits and parishes.
Forging ahead…..
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Statement of Purpose
Well, being dragged kicking and screaming into the cybernetic age is taking another turn. Now I’m a blogger. Yikes! Some who go to the bother to view this page used to receive manuscripts every week of sermons I preached in their e-mail inboxes, and now that I am retired, they no longer have to be bothered by such unsolicited spam. So if they find themselves viewing this page, they have only themselves to blame. One advantage of this method is that it adapts more readily to feedback, dialog, two-way communication, should the reader wish to reciprocate. Another advantage is that such conversation promises to keep the brain’s synaptic functions stimulated, perhaps promoting mental health in the “mature” years.
Drawbacks to this method of communicating, it seems, are the possibility that it is more impersonal, a distasteful prospect from my perspective, and the impossibility posed by information overload. If everyone blogged, no one could possibly keep up with all the quadrillions of tidbits of chatter available in pages like this.
So, it seems a statement of purpose is in order: one discovery in retirement has to do with how memories, both good and bad, continuously return. Often seemingly out of the blue, there comes to mind the memory of particular individuals or events, sometimes long forgotten, and then I find myself asking such things as “Why is that episode resurfacing?” or “Why did I do that?” or “What is the source of such hostility?” or “How is that different from today?” Had I been more attentive in Pastoral Psychology classes when we were studying Erik Erickson’s “Stages of the Life Cycle,” I would not have been as surprised by this sorting-out process in the ending period of life. Now the issues have to do with being grateful for accomplishments as well as the contributions of others, and coming to terms with the residual sense of failure and reasons for guilt, embarrassment and roads not taken. So my attempt in these offerings is to be as honest as I know how about the past, and at the same time to explore (with you, I hope) possible implications for today and tomorrow.
My next blog may provide an example of the purported statement of purpose.
Forging on….
Jim N.
Drawbacks to this method of communicating, it seems, are the possibility that it is more impersonal, a distasteful prospect from my perspective, and the impossibility posed by information overload. If everyone blogged, no one could possibly keep up with all the quadrillions of tidbits of chatter available in pages like this.
So, it seems a statement of purpose is in order: one discovery in retirement has to do with how memories, both good and bad, continuously return. Often seemingly out of the blue, there comes to mind the memory of particular individuals or events, sometimes long forgotten, and then I find myself asking such things as “Why is that episode resurfacing?” or “Why did I do that?” or “What is the source of such hostility?” or “How is that different from today?” Had I been more attentive in Pastoral Psychology classes when we were studying Erik Erickson’s “Stages of the Life Cycle,” I would not have been as surprised by this sorting-out process in the ending period of life. Now the issues have to do with being grateful for accomplishments as well as the contributions of others, and coming to terms with the residual sense of failure and reasons for guilt, embarrassment and roads not taken. So my attempt in these offerings is to be as honest as I know how about the past, and at the same time to explore (with you, I hope) possible implications for today and tomorrow.
My next blog may provide an example of the purported statement of purpose.
Forging on….
Jim N.
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