Called to Power?

NOTE:  My friend and colleague, Jim Kerr, was to have been the guest preacher at a church in Grafton, WV, this morning, but because of illness, he called yesterday to ask if I were available.  I was, and hence this sermon.
 

Called to Power?

Isaiah 53; Hebrews 5:1-10; St. Mark 10:35-45

A Sermon Prepared and delivered by James E. Norton, Guest Pastor

Church of the Covenant, Grafton, West Virginia

Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost, October 21, 2012

This morning’s Gospel story is one that appears in three of the four Gospels.  The disciples quarrel over who should have the places of honor and power at Jesus’ right and left hands.  Perhaps we shouldn’t be too hard on the disciples.  Striving after power and status may be quite the human thing to do.

 

 

When reaching retirement, say some psychologists, it is natural to look back and reflect on the many of our working years.  I recall my father’s tendency for such reflection after 50 years as a handyman in a furniture store, and I find myself engaged in such ruminations after 46 years as an ordained pastor.  One very clear recollection for me involves the assumptions I had just after graduating from seminary and receiving the church’s stamp of approval: “Ordained.”  (Use ASL for “dumb” as if stamping my forehead with the word “ordained,” and play with that.)  There I was full of excitement about all that my education had taught me and my imagination even went so far as to believe that people back home in West Virginia were waiting with bated breath, so eager were they to absorb all that I could impart.  How powerful I was going to be!  Surely I would be promoted quickly to the office of District Superintendent, seated at the right or left hand of the Bishop!

Do I need to tell you how long it was before that delusion was done in?  Actually, it took about a year for my yuppie aspirations to be the pastor of the “church-of-what’s-happening-now”—with its walls bulging from increased attendance and membership, its growing budget, its new building programs, its higher salaries, its added perks, its upscale parsonage, its fancier office complete with a parson’s private privy, its power and prestige within the community and throughout the state—it took a year for those hallucinations to end up where they belonged (down one of the holes in the two-seater outhouse out back).  So much for private privies.

And so much for our power as pastors.  Yet, sometimes it seems that more than pastors assume that pastors possess power.  The message that often comes through from Superintendents, Bishops and other denominational executives, and sometimes even through church members, is that if the pastors were competent and their hearts were in the right place, churches would grow, mission giving would be overflowing, and operating budgets would always have surpluses, despite the declining population figures and the worsening economic conditions, especially for the middle class and working poor.  People have to pay their taxes, but there is no power to compel them to be faithful in their commitment to the church.  That kind of faithfulness is motivated either by the desire for power and control (the more I give and the more I do, the more I will be recognized and rewarded for my “faithfulness”), and/or it is motivated by genuine care and generosity.  But those are highly personal considerations, and it is unlikely that pastors have much power over what people do.  Adults (not children, of course) do what they want to do—that’s the privilege of being adult.  Pastors and other persons may be able to persuade others to do those things that are constructive and contribute to the common good, but the bottom line is that people do what they want to do.

Some individuals sometimes act as if that they are powerless and that they are not behaving the way they say they want because of being forced by others against their will.  “I really wish I could help out with that project, but you know how browbeating Brunhilda can be?”  How often I’ve heard individuals make such claims to powerlessness and yet how they really seemed to be doing what they really wanted to do or not doing what they didn’t want to do, and at the same time eliciting a pity-party for having to live in such oppressive conditions.  The reality is that being adult means doing what we want to do, and perhaps, that’s as it should be.

Some of us can remember a time when the institutional church was thought to be a powerful force, one that could dictate what people did and didn’t do.  There was a time when the church seemed to be the moral authority in the community, and it was respected and its voice had power.  The Blue Laws were enforced so that storeowners didn’t dare open their places of business on Sundays.  Prominent professional people and business leaders joined the church because it was good for business to be seen in church.

Those days are gone.  The voice of the church is divided and falls on deaf ears.  Those outside the church witness how in some congregations there is haggling over power and bickering within the family of faith, and they stay as far away as they can get.  The pews empty.  The younger generations are more and more skeptical of all institutions, including the Church, and according to research data, 85% of persons in their twenties through forties have never even darkened the doors of a church.  They have never learned the Lord’s Prayer, and about the only time they will ever see the inside of a church is when they attend a wedding or get married themselves.

One time a couple came to the church where I was pastor to look around the sanctuary as a possible place to get married.  The communion cup holders in this particular church were located along the kneeling rail in the front of the sanctuary.  The bride had read the wedding regulations of the church and saw where the church had “candelabras” for use at weddings.  Pointing to the communion cup holders along the kneeling rail, she asked if they were the candle holders we rented out for weddings.  The days when the majority of people have grown up in and been influenced by the church are probably gone and will never return.

Well, okay, the church isn’t as powerful as it used to be.  So what?  There are other very powerful entities in this world.  Corporations, nations and governments can and do wield enormous power, make no mistake about it!  Powerful nations can flex their muscles and use up hundreds of thousands of billions of dollars in an attempt to control the course of history, but do they have the power to escape the long-term political, economic and social consequences of such actions?  Is our country’s present financial failure in any way related to giant corporations and their CEOs condoning virtually any behavior that will net them and their shareholders greater wealth, no matter how unethical or illegal; or is our financial failure in any way related to the cost of combat operations and military actions overseas?  Hasn’t history demonstrated again and again that indiscriminate and miscalculated use of power usually leads to colossal outcomes that inflict greater harm and destruction than good?

When the disciples asked for positions of power and prestige, Jesus punctured their grand illusions of power by asking if they could drink the same cup that he would drink and be baptized with the same baptism with which he would be baptized.  He was referring, of course, to his own suffering and death.  How disappointing Jesus’ response must have been to the disciples!  How upsetting to be told that instead of positions of honor and public acclaim, the disciples would indeed share in Jesus’ suffering, drink that same cup and be baptized with that same baptism.  Not only so, but they would have to renounce their desire for greatness and power and become servants to people in need.

This morning’s passage for the epistle to the Hebrews says, “Jesus offered up prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears, to the one who was able to save him from death…(but like all of us) he learned obedience through what he suffered.”

The One we claim to be the Son of God was not exempt from suffering, anymore than we are.  None of us can escape suffering.  We can inflict suffering (to be sure) just as we can extend goodness, but we cannot escape suffering.  We cannot use faithfulness as a way of manipulating God into making our lives fair and fine.  We cannot give more to the church as a way of keeping turmoil and trouble at bay.  We cannot expect some special consideration in return for our obedience.

 
My friend for over thirty years, as decent and thoughtful and good a man as you could ever want to know, who died at age 58 after 15 months of agony battling pancreatic cancer, could tell you if he were alive.  Or talk with the mother whom I met some years ago whose son was one of our troops, a medic actually, in Iraq.  She could tell you.  She showed me a picture of him that appeared in the NY Times.  The photographer caught him sharing some of his day’s ration of water with an elderly Iraqi woman, her wrinkled hands smeared with fresh blood.  The picture also showed a gun strapped over the boy’s shoulder.  According to the Geneva Convention, medics are non-combatants and, as such, are not to carry weapons.  The mother’s obvious distress was for her son, to be sure, but she also expressed through her tears deep concern for all whose lives were in jeopardy as well as those families who had lost loved ones.


According to worldly standards, success is determined by political and economic power.  James and John request positions of power where they can lord it over others.  Jesus responds by saying, “No!”  Instead of the glory of exercising authority over others, Jesus offers the way of his own life.  Just as he faced his own struggles and prayed with loud cries and tears, so that way of cross-bearing is our lot in life as well.  The nation or the church that seeks to save its life by achieving status and power over others will lose it.  True disciples, said Jesus, are not those who lord it over others, but those who “deal gently,” who become servants of others.

Another Memorial Service

NOTE:  As I explained when beginning blogging, the hope in these pages is to reflect as honestly as possible on ideas, concerns and situations as they seem significant to this parson in his retirement years.  Recently realizing that even funeral services I'm sometimes asked to conduct may reflect how my thinking is or is not changing, it seems fitting to include such public communications here.  While few people will find this blog, let alone read it, and even though when I'm gone it likely will be shelved in the deepest recesses of cyberspace, it provides the illusory sense, at least, that dialog is possible.  Indeed, whenever I take time to write in this venue, I always imagine individuals, past and present, in my life who may be looking over my shoulder, and that is a very comfortable feeling.  So, whether you're there or not, thanks for the qualities in your lives that make me wish you were here.

 

The funeral service below was conducted on 8/21/12.

 

Jim N.

A Memorial Service for

SANDY BISH MARKLEY KERENS

SONG:                                     “Sissy Song”

OPENING SCRIPTURE SENTENCES

GREETING & PRAYER

PRAYER OF OUR SAVIOR

OLD TESTAMENT READINGS

Psalm 121

Selected portions of Proverbs 31

NEW TESTAMENT READINGS

Selected portions of Romans 8

St. John 14:1-3, 27

SONG:        “I’ll Fly Away” 

Sung by Sandy's Grandson, Craig DeBastiani

MEDITATION  (Printed below)

HYMN:           “Hymn of Promise”

PRAYER

SONG:      “Go Rest High on the Mountain”

 Sandra “Sandy” Bish Markley Kerens

            We gather this morning, our hearts heavy with grief,  but more importantly, our hearts full of love.  A woman who has touched the lives of so many people has died, and we are here because we want to commemorate, to pay profound respect, and to celebrate her life, for she was a good wife, a good mother, a good grandmother, a good sister, a good aunt, and a very good neighbor and friend.

            The days, weeks, months and years ahead will, no doubt, be filled with many wonderful stories about the times of happiness shared with Sandy: her deep devotion to her husband and family, how, even in the midst of life’s struggles, she knew honest delight and true affection in the moments she spent with the persons closest to her.  Those who knew Sandy as friend and neighbor will recall as well the many instances of faithfulness in friendship.  She was kind-hearted, good, and true, or as one of her neighbors put it, “That girl was all heart!”

            Many qualities come to mind when we think of Sandy.  I’ve been told that she was an organizer and detail person of the highest order.  As a youngster, not yet a teenager, she went to work babysitting for families in the neighborhood, and gained quite a reputation in that line of work.  Perhaps, her popularity as a babysitter had something to do with the fact after putting the kids to bed, she would clean the houses of those who employed her.  One member of the family called her a “neat freak.”

            Some in her family during the early years may not have always appreciated her attention to detail and neatness.  Her brother Buck as a young lad shared none of Sandy’s inclination to keep things in their place, and Sandy often in her endless attempt to restore order (perhaps partly in retaliation), would rearrange the furniture in the bedroom Buck and Jack shared.  Eventually, when coming home late, Buck learned to turn on the light and look before plopping into bed.

Sandy’s organizational skills learned early in life stayed with her throughout life, and most of the time Sandy used those skills to attend to and arrange for the welfare and joy of others.  As the obituary in the newspaper pointed out, when Sandy learned that an individual or family was going through some difficulty, invariably Sandy would show up, not with some store-bought meat or vegetable platter, but with an entire meal cooked completely from scratch and, as the paper put it, “she was a most welcome sight at those times.”  This was not something she did occasionally here and there, but as many of you are well aware, she did it hundreds of times.

That same practical concern for the needs of others, so much a part of Sandy’s personality, also came into play when she worked in the Assessor’s Office.  Sandy’s special concern for the elderly and the disabled led her to be sure that such persons received every consideration due them when determining property taxes.  If she learned of senior or handicapped citizens who were not taking advantage of the Homestead Exemption, she wouldn’t just call them to advise them of a way to lower their tax burden, she gathered up the papers they needed to fill-out, and went directly to their homes to get them signed up.  County Commissioners may not have appreciated her fervor in lowering the tax base, but from her perspective, the needs of individuals, particularly the less blessed among us, far outweighed the requirements of corporate structures.  (She probably would not have agreed that corporations are people.)  Many are the ways Sandy employed her organizational abilities for the sake of others helping to provide a safety net of care and protection.

 Sandy’s home was always a gathering place.  It was a popular hang-out for kids in the neighborhood when her children were young, and it was the same for everyone else who showed up.  Sandy’s grandchildren, Craig and Jamie, speak glowingly of the warmth and acceptance that they have always found at their grandparents’ home.  Craig, who played and sang one of Sandy’s favorite songs earlier in this service, attributes his beginning to take up the guitar at a very early age to Stanley’s influence, a grandfather whom he calls “Pappy.”  And Jamie indicates what a blessing it has been because of the many serious, heart-to-heart conversations with her grandmother around the kitchen counter.  How utterly important it is to know there is a place where you can go, and there will always be a loving embrace and a listening ear.  Sandy’s daughter-in-law, Becky, also reports deep gratitude for her adoptive mother by marriage, so much so that when it came time to find additional help as Sandy’s illness grew worse, Becky, without a moment’s hesitation, moved in and stayed with Sandy and Stanley to help out these last several months.

That really isn’t surprising, is it?  Just as Sandy used her abilities to do the best she could for others, in her time of declining health, she too was surrounded by love: a loving husband, son and daughter-in-law, grandchildren, brother and many others, not out of some sense of duty, but willingly out of love.  As she had been a gracious presence to others, her spirit was lifted by the touch of others.  It only makes sense that those who knew and loved Sandy would respond the same way she did.

It is not good that Sandy suffered; it is not good that she died.  But it is good that she lived, and we can be grateful even now, not only because her suffering over, but because our lives are so much richer for having known her, her deep compassion and joy, and also because she is now free to move on in whatever wonders of life await her.

Christians have always believed in life after life, but such faith up until lately has been difficult to square with our knowledge of the universe.  Some very fascinating discoveries in recent years, however, in science and medicine are tending to affirm what Christians have always believed, namely, that life does not end, but merely continues on into other dimensions.  Not only the evidence from the medical community reporting on persons who have had near death experiences, all of which have similar characteristics, but other fields of science having to do with sub-atomic particles, suggest that we are comprised of elements that never die.

Recall the three words that Steve Jobs spoke as he died, “Wow, wow, wow!”?  Might it just be that who each of us really is—the very essence of who we are, the kernel of our lives after the chaff has been blown away, the protons, neutrons and photons that are the building blocks of our bodies, that there are elements of our lives that continue, and that those already dead continue to be as close to us as we are to one another, maybe even closer?  How often we have heard people comment that in trying times they have felt the abiding nearness of their loved ones upholding them and giving them strength?  Might it be that Sandy is present right now and always will be, no longer living in pain, but urging us to move on toward the same spirit of kindness and compassion she herself lived?  Perhaps even now Sandy is calling to us and saying, “Don’t worry.  Everything is fine!”

PRAYER

            Gracious God of love, we offer thanks for the goodness we have witnessed in the life of Sandy Bish Markley Kerens.  The years slip through our minds like minutes when we think of her, and remembering the days we have had with her, we thank you for the many blessings we received because of knowing her as wife, mother, grandmother, sister, aunt, neighbor and friend.  For her love of her family, her faithfulness in relationships and her care for others; for the delight she derived from starting in September to bake cheese cakes to freeze and then give away at Christmastime; for her wonderful wit and sense of humor, for her avid interest in politics and her loyalty to the Pittsburgh Pirates; and for those times of trouble when her family and friends could share her burdens and ease her pain—these thoughts and memories are precious to us, O God, and we speak our gratitude for the life we have shared with Sandy.

            We would that she might still be with us on the earth, O God, but not if she could not be healthy.  We would that she might still be with us on the earth, O God, but not if she could not be happy.  We would that she might still be with us on the earth, O God, but not if she could not be free to do the things she liked to do and to walk the ways she loved to walk.  So we give her back to You, who gave her to us, in the confidence that she is safe in your eternal care and that her spirit is freed to continue to be “all heart.”  Amen.

When God Talks Back

 A friend passed on a book review of anthropologist Tanya Marie Luhrmann’s book When God Talks Back: Understanding the American Evangelical Relationship With God, a book I had not heard about until reading the review.[i]  Written by Jill Wolfson, a novelist and journalist of high standing, the review describes Luhrmann’s accounting of years of “deep hanging out” with two different groups of the Vineyard Christian Fellowship, an evangelical/Pentecostal segment of American Christianity.  This Christian branch is characterized by literal interpretation of the scriptures and worship experiences that include dancing, swaying and other deeply emotional expressions.  Wolfson’s portrayal of Luhrmann’s book, besides being well written, seems a fair representation, so much so that it nudges me in the direction of purchasing the book.  The only problem is that my books-to-read shelf is so over laden already that it is sagging in the middle, and adding another book on to a pile that will likely outlive me seems futile.  So many books, so little time!  So, for now, my thoughts about Luhrmann’s exhaustive study will necessarily rely on a second-hand source.

The focus of Luhrmann’s research is to ask how is it that intelligent, savvy, middle-class Americans come to the place where they carry on conversations with the invisible God in much the same way as friends talk over coffee, actually expecting two-way dialog.  Succinctly, while Luhrmann continues to question the existence of God, her in-depth engagement with the Vineyard brings her to an awareness that such prayer talk works.  The practices of the Vineyard and the support of its members enable participants to learn how to “hear what they determine to be God’s voice.”

So the Vineyard groups and other Pentecostal religious types can claim victory that their perspective has been validated by the scientific community.  God is good all the time, and is always available to talk with anyone who takes the time to sit down to carry on such conversations.  Evidently, Luhrmann in her post-publication sessions with the Vineyard groups did provide a kind of appreciative assessment of their way of prayer, even indicating that though she could not “believe in a God out ‘there’ as solid as a mailbox….in my own way, I have come to know God (through my time spent in the Vineyard).”

But, reviewer Wolfson also describes how Luhrmann has made similar discoveries in other forays into religious experiences and cultures.  Luhrmann, according to Wolfson, describes herself as a “spiritual mutt,” having familial and other close connections to a Baptist minister, Christian Scientist, Unitarian, and Orthodox Jew, and was herself for a time inclined toward atheism.  As an anthropologist she was struck by how most people seemingly choose to conduct their lives according to narratives and legends rather than listening to their logical, rational reasoning.

Consequently, she spent in-depth time with modern witches, followers of Zoroastrianism, a Black Catholic Church, and a Santeria group.  Moreover, Luhrmann conducted experiments among undergraduate students utilizing the same prayer methods employed by the Vineyard followers, which verify the same results about prayer as those found in the Vineyard groups.

When hanging out in depth with modern-day witches, learning their methods and following their rituals, she discovered that “witchcraft self-training worked,” and she even had a supernatural vision one night of “six druids” appearing outside her window.  Luhrmann reports that the techniques of witchcraft are the same as those she was taught in the Vineyard version of Christianity—and, indeed, all the groups that she studied.

Probably, the most fascinating implication in Luhrmann’s ventures into how prayer works stems from a research project developed and implemented among college students at Stanford.  Rather than having students meditate on some deity of a particular faith tradition, the students were instructed to meditate on Leland Stanford, Jr., who died as a child and for whom Stanford University was named.  These student “volunteers were invited to listen and use their inner attention to ‘experience’ Leland.”  The results as yet are unpublished, but some of the students reported visions of the “young Leland and feeling that he spoke back.”

Wolfson concludes her review indicating how Luhrmann, being asked to “weigh in” on the seeming heavy influence of Vineyard Christians and their ilk on politics, assesses such confluence of church and state.  Luhrmann’s observations are very interesting and can be read in the article, which can be found at the web site listed as an endnote.

My interest, however, lies elsewhere.  Is it significant that widely divergent paths to spirituality seem equally accessible through very similar prayer techniques?  What can we say about the ability of certain meditative techniques to bring a person into intimate connection with any entity?  Is this simply some kind of learned mind control?  Or are there other levels or planes of existence with which we can resonate through meditative practice?  Perhaps Quantum theorists have a point in arguing that there are “fields” beyond our ability to perceive, abounding with neutrons, protons, photons.  And who knows, maybe included in these sub-atomic dimensions are all that has ever been or will be.

One thing is certain.  Based on the results of Luhrmann’s research, the appreciation shown by Luhrmann toward the Vineyard, or any group espousing only one right way to “God,” does not mean it is the only way.  Indeed, her research indicates the very opposite.  If there is communication with realms beyond what we know in the present, Luhrmann’s research points more to the possibility that other dimensions of living, if they exist, are filled with every conceivable idea, personality, entity, or experience the cosmos can contain.  Perhaps we Christians would do well to exercise a little more humility in our assertions about the one right way to God.

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[i] The review can be found on-line at:  http://alumni.stanford.edu/get/page/magazine/article/?article_id=54818

When Power Permits Perversion

Well, this morning’s news tells of the NCAA’s penalties on Penn State for its role in the Jerry Sandusky debacle.  Penn State, wisely, seems appropriately repentant, and rightly compliant, to the NCAA’s rulings.  Joe Paterno’s formerly stellar record has been irreparably tarnished, and his statue, now a symbol of how winning as “the only thing” will go so far as to torture innocent children, is no longer visible in front of Beaver Stadium.  (Perhaps the bronze could be melted down and remolded into a depiction of the “Massacre of the Innocents” and then returned to the entrance of the stadium.)

How is it that competent, reasonable professionals can fall into such ignominy?  That question, which is probably on the minds of most of us following this reign of rape, has triggered a memory out of my own past.  One of the blessings of retirement is that matters, which formerly were submerged during the busy years of day-to-day career activity, make their way to conscious awareness again.  The developmental psychologist, Erik Erikson, argues that this is a normal process in the final stage of life, as if the individual psyche/soul is doing a review of all that has happened, asking which of one’s life experiences have been worth it and which have not.

The memory involves the son of a wealthy financier/industrialist who, unlike his father, became wealthy as well, the old-fashioned way: he inherited the largess his father had earned.  The father, Wheeler H. Bachman, of Wheeling, WV, fame, landed his wealth by investing in the dry goods market, later expanding his capital in the stock market as well as other industrial exploits, including the Carr China Company of Grafton, WV, not too far from where our family now resides.  (When in 1952 “WH” learned that the employees at Carr China were considering the possibility of unionizing, he promptly closed down the plant, and today there is no remnant left of its ever having existed.  Yes, “WH” was a staunch Republican.)

His son, Wheeler Carr Bachman, the recipient of the Bachman estate, was in his forties/fifties during my teenage years.  “WC” never worked a day in his life, and I doubt that he even served on boards of banks or charitable organizations, as had his father before him, but I’m not sure of that.  But he did find time to engage in other activities that shall become clear in a moment.

As a high school senior I was hired as a “Desk Clerk” at the Wheeling YMCA, a position that included checking-in “Y” members to the various athletic “clubs” housed in the facility, operating the switchboard, cashier responsibilities such as receiving rental income from the men who lived on the residential floors or collecting sales receipts from purchasers of “Y” t-shirts, shorts, jock-straps, candy, etc., and other clerical chores.  Also, when the night clerk was off or on vacation, I filled-in for him, and that included some additional chores, mostly custodial in the areas adjacent to the front desk.

“WC” had a reputation around the “Y” of spending inordinate amounts of time with high school boys, and as a member of the Business Men’s Club, the most exclusive area in the “Y,” which included such amenities as a sauna, tanning lamp and even a full-time masseur, I often checked him, along with his young “guests,” into the BMC.  It was just another part of the job that one performed automatically without giving it any thought.  Sure there were rumors, and some of his “regular” companions let it be known that “WC” was very generous toward them (Were they subtly soliciting other companions per his request?), but still, being naïve, any thought of something more than what appeared as a charitable interest in young lads quickly dispersed, and the routine carried on.

But, one time while on night duty, reality slapped me is if right in the face.  Evidently “WC” and his entourage entered the BMC while the clerk before I came on duty was working.  As it was way past closing time for the athletic side of the building, I assumed that those facilities were closed for the day.  All was quiet as I proceeded to mop and buff the lobby floor when, off to the right I noticed a bright light emanating from underneath the door to the BMC.  Hmmmm, someone forgot to turn out the lights.  I took out my master key and let myself in to the area just in time to see six or seven naked boys scattering in all directions.  The one young man who seemed to be “WC’s” regular bud, a rather cocky fellow, approached me in a threatening guise, his cocky manner not the only thing obviously standing out.  But before anything was spoken, WC followed right behind him, speaking words I can’t remember in uneasy tones I do remember.  “WC’s” face was covered with (how can I say this delicately) male reproductive fluids.  I walked out of the BMC, allowing the door to slam behind me.

The next day I made an appointment to talk with the “Y” General Secretary, the equivalent of the Executive Director or CEO of this purportedly “Christian” organization.  After all, its stated purpose was to put Christian principles into practice by developing a healthy “body, mind and spirit.”  The “Y” logo, a red triangle, is meant to symbolize these three sides of essential human development.

The General Secretary’s response to what I had witnessed and reported was as casual as his rosy-cheeked appearance as he leaned back in his overstuffed chair behind his desk smoking his pipe.  He mentioned ancient Greek culture in particular, and explained in words I do not remember that what I had witnessed has always gone on and there was no need pursue the matter.  To do so would be to bring disfavor on the “Y,” and we certainly would not want that to happen.  The twin facts that the high school boys were probably younger than the age of consent at the time (21 in those days) and that sexual favors were being elicited in exchange for money (legally a crime even today, I believe) hadn’t occurred to me when I spoke with the General Secretary, and he certainly seemed to be unaware of such considerations, or at least, he didn’t mention them.  So, that’s where the matter ended, and until this blog, it has so far as I know never been mentioned again.

This erection of an episode out of the deep niches of memory helps me understand something of what went on at Penn State, and chances are that if what happened there in the last (what? 20, 30 maybe even 40) years had come out back in the late fifties or early sixties, it still would have been brushed under the carpet, but the difference being that it would have stayed a secret.  And the Penn State football legends would have remained permanently imbedded in bronze for all time.

Please understand, this is not a condemnation of homosexuality.  Quite the contrary, I am absolutely in favor of consenting same-gendered adults who are in love being able to find fulfillment and the depth of wonder resident in their relationship.  Unfortunately, my denomination (The United Methodist Church) forbids its clergy from participating in marriage ceremonies of same-gendered individuals.  If that were not the case, I would delight in the opportunity to bless love wherever I could find it.

But that’s another issue.  What went on at Penn State involved corruption, and consequent violence against children, of inconceivable proportions.  It was rape and rape is not about love ever; rather, it’s raw hatred in all of its hideousness.  The actions condoned by top-level administrative officials were committed against mostly disadvantaged minors, reinforcing once again the notion that those less obviously favored among us are to be thought of as slaves.  It’s okay to “use” defenseless lower-class youth, even to ridicule and humiliate them, because their purpose in life is to gratify the needs of those whom God must love more—those with extraordinary power and wealth must be more deserving.  Even Joel Olsteen and his Gospel of Prosperity agrees.  Not!

The one hopeful prospect in this sad episode of human degradation is that, whereas in the fifties and sixties Penn State probably would have gotten away with it, as did Wheeler Carr Bachman, a new day of openness and the technological miracle of instant communication has made it less and less likely that such things will ever be swept under the rug again

Beware the One Meeting the Bus

Some church people may not realize that there is a secret code among pastors.  It is comprised of aphorisms whose meanings are readily understood by clerics, but not so much by parishioners.  One such saying is “Beware the person who meets the bus!”   This advice has been a big help in most of my transitions to new congregations.  As a pastor I have served nine congregations including two as a student pastor during college years and one as an interim post-retirement.  All but three of these pastoral charges have verified the truth of the maxim.

The person who meets the bus is the one who writes or phones you before your arrival in your new church, or meets you at the airport, or travels many miles to spend time with you in your former parish even before your new pastoral responsibilities have begun.  Usually such contacts are outside the usual protocol for a new pastoral start-up, or the result of over-zealous machinations in order to be first in line at the bus stop.

Most of the time these contacts are attempts to ingratiate oneself, to cunningly work oneself into a favorable position with the new pastor.  Most of the time such individuals prove to be power mongers who want an edge up on being sure that things in the congregation go their way.  So this initial meeting with the prospective new pastor is an attempt to work around the stated procedure for introducing the pastor to the church, and at the same time check him/her out to see how malleable the supposedly unsuspecting parson will be to the usurper’s own controlling agenda.

One such episode early in my pastoral career involved a gentleman who showed up at the parsonage right after we had moved in and before my first Sunday in the new church.  Often people show up unannounced bearing gifts of food and other expressions of welcome.  That is a very good thing and deeply appreciated!  But this particular individual bore no gifts, made some inquiry about my being the new pastor, and from there babbled on in a bumbling attempt to curry favor.  His illusions of having succeeded must have ended quickly when at the first Board Meeting after my arrival a scheme he devised that would have served his self-interest found no support from me and was handily voted down by the Board.  His interest in the church dwindled after that.  His effort lacked the cleverness of others I have encountered along the way.

Another person learned that my practice for many years was to take a long walk on Sundays prior to time for me to be at church for Sunday School and Worship.  These lone excursions were meant to provide an opportunity to prepare my mind and spirit for worship as well as review the intended sermon and liturgy for the day.  Also, they were timed so that I usually showed up at church ready to attend to unfinished details and enjoy the day’s interaction.

Learning quickly after the beginning of my pastorate in this church the route I usually followed on my pre-church walk, this gentleman waited for me near my starting point and joined me on the jaunt—not once, not twice, but many times.  He wasn’t as bumbling as the fellow mentioned above, but clearly his agenda was the same—to win over my support of his agenda for the church.  I should have explained to him how important these walks were for my preparation for church, but intuitively suspecting that his sensitivities might not be able to handle it, I simply endured his intrusions until he figured out that his “cozying up” didn’t make a difference in how I saw my administrative role.

Perhaps the occurrence that stands out the most in 46 years of ministerial memory involved a retired pastor (who ought to have known better) who as a retiree took on a number of leadership roles in the church where I was to be appointed, and who, unbeknownst to him, was being edged out of some of these roles by the Staff-Parish Relations Committee (the advisory committee to church staff).  The method of the SPRC was rather circuitous: I was not to give this person any responsibilities that would involve him in worship leadership (their estimation was that he had lost most of his fluency in such duties), but neither was I to let him know that his being “fired” from worship leadership was their doing.

So when a letter arrived from him a month before I moved to this new church, I had already heard of him.  The letter was a summons actually.  I was to meet him at 9 a.m. in front of Wesley Chapel on Wednesday of the week of Annual Conference (the state-wide legislative gathering of our denomination held at West Virginia Wesleyan College prior to pastors being moved to their new congregations).  The letter even included the fact that he would be wearing a green leisure suit at this “bus stop” meeting, so that I could easily spot him amid the crowd that usually gathered around the Chapel entrances.  I went as ordered on the appointed day, but because of the Conference schedule, there was no time for an extended conversation.  He may have envisioned that we would sit together at the Conference business session, giving him time to be sure I understood how important his role in the church was. (Possibly he sensed that some things were about to change.)  Outside of a few gratuitous remarks and an indication that we would talk more when I arrived at the church, we parted and went separate ways.

He did stop by the office several times during those early weeks of my tenure at this congregation.  Our conversations were casual, but he never broached the topic of worship leadership.  Since I was mandated to bar him from such participation, I took the easier step of not bringing it up either.  Today, I would handle the situation much more directly, putting the responsibility on the SPRC where it belonged.  But, alas, too often we grow smart too late.

The rejected retired pastor retaliated.  He began writing anonymous letters to me that catalogued all of my many faults as he perceived them, and he also sent letters to key leaders in the congregation complaining about my inadequacies as a pastor.  And he did manage to win over a few persons to sympathize with him and help keep the dissension going.  (I know he was the author of the letters sent to me because he used the same manual typewriter on which the letter I received from him months before had been typed.)  His interference along with other very complex problems at this church made for a very tumultuous pastorate, one I was relieved to leave.  After all, there is a fine line between loyalty and stupidity.

No doubt, other vocations experience the “bus stop” syndrome.  Children butter up their parents in order to get their way; parents suck up to teachers in an effort to get their children into the gifted program; fawning and flattering fops overwhelm politicians to obtain special favors; brownnosers go so far up their supervisors’ anatomies that hoped-for promotions reek of fertilizer.

But what these sycophants fail to understand is that, whereas other leaders (parents, teachers, politicians, supervisors, etc.) may wield power and the ability to control outcomes, pastors do not.  It’s true that some pastors haven’t learned this lesson and often behave as if their donning clerical garb makes what they say and do about twenty inches above human contradiction.  And, it may be true that pastors in an earlier time had power and authority conferred upon them simply because of their office, but that day is long gone.  And good riddance!  Any authority bestowed on pastors these days is mostly because they have earned it through mutual respect, listening skills, reasoned promptings, disciplined preparation, genuine commitment and other similar qualities.  In other words, pastors may have the ability to influence and persuade congregations to move in particular directions, but that largely depends on the confidence that has developed between pastor and parish.  That is not power and control.

As stated earlier, most people who reach out to the pastor’s family in the earliest days of the pastoral start-up are genuinely interested in extending a warm welcome.  That is gratifying and goes a long way toward bonding the pastor-parish connection.  But some meet the bus for their own cloaked reasons.  Any pastor with savvy will see right through them.  And other pastors will catch on soon enough.

Another Sermon

Divinity Is Diverse (Deal With It!)

St. Mark 3:1-6, 20-35

A Guest Sermon Prepared & Delivered by James E. Norton

First Presbyterian Church, Fairmont, WV 26554

June 10, 2012

            Some of you may recall that a similar passage to this morning’s Gospel lesson was read a month ago.  The scripture then was selected because of its fitting in with the theme of our Mother’s Day observance.  Today another version of the same passage appears in the Common Lectionary, that collection of prescribed scriptures designated to be read on each Sunday of the year.  The practice by Presbyterians, United Methodists, Lutherans, Episcopalians, Roman Catholics and other churches of reading the same scriptures on most Sundays is intended as a witness to our oneness in Christ.

            But coincidentally, reading and hearing essentially the same passage within the space of a month, brings us once again to a reconsideration of family.  Usually we think of family as a biological unit, the nuclear family, the germinal family, the family that consists of a mom and dad and their genetic offspring.

            But that description of family hardly seems the norm any more.  Roughly half of marriages end up in divorce, meaning among other things that families are more apt to be single parent families, or those where children are being raised by extended family members, adoptive or foster parents, or families comprised of adults and children who are blended into second and third marriages.  Consequently, more and more families live in situations where there is a mixture of different traditions and values, and sometimes that can lead to more complicated circumstances.

            Actually the situation today may be more similar to the earliest ideas of family, or at least as far as we know them from our Judaic-Christian heritage.  Our spiritual ancestors, the Hebrews, had a much more expansive view of family.  Family included not only immediate family members who were related by blood or marriages (there were many wives in such families, each having borne children to the head of the household), but that’s not all who were included in the family: there were also the slaves, concubines, strangers, aliens and poor people who came to the family seeking help.  All were adopted into the family, and for the males that meant circumcision as a sign of their covenant as a family member.  Covenant, coming from a Hebrew word meaning “to cut,” was a sign of one’s adoption into the family who was not family by birth.  Now that’s “blended” with a vengeance.

            Jesus, however, in this morning’s passage extends the idea of family even further.  Family is everyone who “does the will of my Father.”  Now, sometimes this saying of Jesus is interpreted in a disturbing way, disturbing because it can be taken to mean that family members are only those who are, say, Christian, those who share a common faith, a common world view, a common value orientation, common lifestyles, common traditions and beliefs.  Perhaps we can even take it to mean that the Family of God includes those who can “get along comfortably.”  That is, they always agree about what the will of God is, they are all either conservative or liberal, but never both.  They’d rather not entertain other perspectives, other ways of looking at the same thing.  They always follow the same ideas about everything, they love the safe womb of sameness, and in their congregation there never is heard a discouraging word, and the sky is not cloudy all day.  Jesus’ saying could be interpreted that way, if we are deaf, dumb and blind, and if we fail to pay attention to the context in which the passage occurs.  But when we look carefully at the whole story we come to a very different conclusion.

 

            A man with a withered hand requests healing.  The Pharisees object.  After all, it is the Sabbath.  Jesus asks whether it is better to heal or to kill.  Jesus heals the man with the withered hand.  Jesus certainly isn’t behaving like a conservative on this occasion.  The Pharisees who see Jesus’ action as an unforgivable infraction go off to plot how to kill him because he is being so radical.

 

            Jesus goes home.  He has created quite a stir.  His family hears about the controversy and tries to plead insanity on Jesus’ part.  “Please overlook his action because he’s out of his mind,” they explain.  “Ah, really,” reply the Pharisees, “If he’s out of his mind, then he must be healing by the power of Satan.”  Jesus learns what they are saying about him and he responds rather rationally, “A house divided against itself cannot stand.”  One cannot use the power of Satan to cast out Satan.

            And then comes Jesus’ astounding declaration: “All sins will be forgiven except blasphemy against the Holy Spirit.”  The Pharisees, who understand and know how to manipulate the law to suit their own self-interest, suddenly become hoisted with their own petard; now they are the victims of their machinations against Jesus.  Jesus moves the argument to that which is beyond the Law: the Holy Spirit, which they cannot know, understand or manipulate.  This is the context, coming out of conflict and controversy, in which Jesus claims as his family those who do the will of God, which is to say, who do God’s will as that is communicated to them through the Holy Spirit.  Jesus, in his response, takes power away from the very powerful, law-abiding Pharisees, revealing their ineptitude and causing yet again their public humiliation.  One does not do that to the powerful without grave consequences.

 

            But following the will of God through the guidance of the Holy Spirit seems rather nebulous, doesn’t it.  How do we do that?  Might that mean that responding to God’s will is to live out the sense of God’s purpose for one’s life?  Does it then also follow that one’s purpose or passion in life will be very different from another’s sense of calling, thereby bringing potential conflict?  Could the Divine come to and live through humans in diverse and manifold ways.  If so, differences might very well lead to misunderstanding and confusion, especially if we cannot learn to live in a world where there are “different strokes for different folks.”

            A movie, October Sky, based on a true story that took place in the Fifties in Coalwood, WV, tells the story of Homer Hickam, a high school student who was so fascinated with the launching of Sputnik 1 that he developed skill in building and launching rockets.  The problem was that his father, John Hickam, a coal miner, wanted his son to become a coal miner, like every other kid in town.  (The law in this family and town says, “Thou shalt become a coal miner.”)  Near the end of the movie, after having saved the mine and the lives of many miners, the father says to Homer, his son, “I was born for this”—for helping people in the coal mine.  In sharp contrast, Homer finally musters up the courage to tell his Dad that he was born to build rockets.

            It seems clear that Jesus is saying that blaspheming the Holy Spirit is denying or denigrating the essence of who and what a person is or is meant to be.  Jesus knew he was born to heal and to sacrifice for the well-being of others.  How important it is that we know what we were born for.  The diversity of Divinity means that two people can follow the will of God for their lives and move in opposite directions and still be members of the same family.  One can mow the lawn on Sunday, the other would never mow the lawn on Sunday.  One can go left, the other can go right.  One can endeavor to reduce the national deficit, the other can strive toward expanding human services. One can be disabled, the other can be temporarily able-bodied.  One can be a Buddhist or a Muslim, and the other can be Christian.  One can be straight, the other gay. 

 

            If we learn anything at all from this morning’s Gospel lesson, it is that to be mother, brother, sister to Jesus means being true to the essential calling, the divine spark, the passion within each of us whereby we know what we are meant to be.  Denying that is blasphemy. Jesus’ sharp warning about the unforgivable sin is about condemning others, discarding them as if they were of the devil, insisting that others have to agree with us and our ways, actually, denying the very creativity and handiwork of God.  All are God’s children, and our concern must be to find out how we embrace everybody.  We are all equal, of equal worth in the sight of our Father.  Divinity is diverse (deal with it)!

PRAYERS

 That the ancient differences that have led to enmity may be bridged by mutual respect and understanding, God hear our prayer: AND IN YOUR LOVE ANSWER.

            That we may be freed from narrow affections and partisan considerations, that our hopes will be inclusive rather than exclusive, and that your Holy Spirit will lead us away from hatred, prejudice, and contempt for those who are not our own race or color, class or creed, to the end that we may be brought by You into unity of the Holy Spirit in the bond of peace, God hear our prayer: AND IN YOUR LOVE ANSWER.

            That those listed in this morning’s bulletin in need of special prayer as well as others we name silently in our hearts, those who suffer from diseases that destroy the body, or disrupt the mind, or assault the soul, will receive the help and support they need and restoration to health and wholeness, God hear our prayer: AND IN YOUR LOVE ANSWER.

            That as your purposes were achieved through such persons as buck-passing Adam and Eve, conniving Jacob, egotistical Joseph, stammering Moses, boisterous David, diligent Ruth, charming Esther, courageous Deborah, promiscuous Rahab, weeping Jeremiah, and hosts of other diverse persons, we, as well, may see how your purposes are being worked out in our lives and work, God hear our prayer: AND IN YOUR LOVE ANSWER.

             We offer these our prayers this day, O God, in the name of the One who came to give us life, Jesus, your Son, our brother who taught us the prayer we now say together:

An Experience in Funeral Preparation

Rationale for this funeral meditation:  As is often the case, this celebration of a grand family matriarch required swift preparation.  My colleague in ministry for many years at Valley Chapel (Elizabeth Shaver Smith (now) Wycoff) is also the deceased’s sister-in-law.  Elizabeth and I were asked to plan and conduct this service.  Meeting the evening before, we worked out an order for the service and divided the various portions.  Elizabeth would lead the part where she and other family members shared stories about Peg (eulogize), and I was asked to conclude that segment with a meditation.

When the service was over, I was impressed at how beautifully it flowed together.  That was mostly because of a truly cohesive spirit among all the family members, which were numerous.   There were many touching moments during the service; one that “got to me” occurred when a grandson, perhaps 11 or 12 years old, tried to read a statement he had written about his grandmother, but broke down.  His mother came to his side and held on to him as she finished reading the statement.

Three considerations were uppermost in my thinking as, later that night after Elizabeth and I had met to plan, the task of framing a meditation began.  The first was easy: since various family members gladly accepted responsibility for recalling stories about Peg, there would be little need for me in the meditation to echo what they were far more able to say.  The second was equally easy: since several family members would be taking part, thereby extending the time the service would take, I probably needed to be as brief as possible in my meditation.  The third, however, was more difficult: since this is a family of wide divergence, especially in their various careers, some in medicine, others in business, etc., it might be well to veer away from traditional heaven-talk.  No doubt, they would have been okay with the expression of traditional “heavenly” language, but I couldn’t ignore my own inward nagging intuitions about doing so.  As preachers, we often rely on what “preachers are supposed to say at funerals,” rather than work toward what might be more authentic expressions of what we believe.  Probably most people could care less.  But I just couldn’t bring myself to head in the traditional direction.  So the meditation below is the result of my internal struggle.  It would be nice to receive your feedback.  

Peg Shaver

               We are brought together this afternoon by those elemental forces that touch human life.  Though we come from many walks of life and some of us from far-away places, we assemble here willingly out of love, because of one who has touched our lives, and because she died and left us.  We come to commemorate, to pay profound respect, and to celebrate this woman, Peg Shaver, for she was a good wife, mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, sister-in-law, aunt, neighbor and friend.

               We have heard and our hearts have been stirred by the kinds of recollections communicated by Elizabeth, Mark and other family members, as well as many other stories about Peg we have shared with one another in the last few days.  We are unanimous in our appreciation of Peg’s deep devotion to her family, the delight she experienced with you, her family, and how, no matter what, she knew unparalleled joy in the moments she spent with each of you.   We are also well aware of her loyalty to her friends and the camaraderie she derived from companionship with others.  She was a kind-hearted, good person, and what better epitaph can be inscribed about anyone than that?

               Her more recent years, sadly, were filled with suffering.  If memory serves, it began with a surgical procedure that was followed by an extended period of unrelenting pain, and despite the finest medical help available, things seemed to continue on a downward spiral.  With advancing age comes increasing inability of our bodies to heal.  And that can lead to emotions ranging from discouragement to outright exasperation and despair.  Life can be very hard, indeed.

               But even in the midst of such harsh realities, Peg was never without continual signs of care and love.  Her husband, Otis, was her constant companion and helper through it all; family members and friends regularly checked on her and did what they could to help.  She was surrounded by many signs of gracious presence, and many are the moments her spirit was lifted by the touch of others.

               So there is ample reason to celebrate: the compassion and joy we have known in Peg and the happiness she experienced with her family members and friends.  Our lives are so much richer for having known her.  We can even rejoice because finally her suffering is over and Peg’s spirit is set free to move on in whatever wonders of life await her.

               The author of the reading from Revelation speaks of a realm where there will be no more tears, no more mourning and crying and pain and death.  Sometimes, in a world where science and traditional Christian understandings seem to come into conflict, it’s difficult to have faith in anything beyond what we can see, hear, touch, smell, or taste.  But some very fascinating scientific discoveries in recent years tend to affirm what Christians have always believed, namely, that life does not end, but merely continues on into other dimensions.  Not only the evidence gathered from the medical community reporting on persons who have had near death experiences, all of which have similar features, but other fields of science having to do with sub-atomic particles, suggest that we are comprised of elements that never die.

               Science is discovering ways in which who we are may simply move on to other levels of existence.  It may be that who each of us really is—the very essence of who we are, the kernel of our lives after the chaff has been blown away—continues, and that those already dead continue to be as close to us as we are to one another, maybe even closer.  How often have we heard people comment that in trying times they have felt the abiding nearness of their loved ones upholding them and giving them strength?  Might it be that Peg is present right now and always will be, no longer living in pain, but urging us to move on toward the same spirit of kindness and compassion she herself lived?

               Several times while our family lived in Pleasant Valley, we were invited to Otis and Peg’s house for a swimming party and picnic.  When we’d arrive and make our way to the back yard, Peg would already be in the pool waving us on, saying something like “Come on in, the water’s fine.”  Peg loved that pool in the back yard, and no doubt, she had some of the best times of her life playing with many of you in the water.  The scriptures speak of being led beside the still waters and springs of the water of life.  Could it be that even now, Peg is calling to us and saying, “Come on in, the water’s fine?”

PRAYER

               Gracious God of love, we offer thanks for the goodness we have witnessed in the life of Peggy Ann Shaver.  The years slip through our minds like minutes when we think of her, and remembering the days we have had with her, we thank you for the many blessings we received because of knowing her as wife, mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, sister-in-law, aunt, neighbor and friend.  For her love of her family, her faithfulness in relationships and her care for others; for the delight she derived from simple pleasures; for the times when her family and friends could share her burdens and ease her pain in times of troubled waters—these thoughts and memories are precious to us, O God, and we speak our gratitude for all that we have shared with Peg.

               Help us, O God, to know that Peg is safe now in your eternal care, that the waters no longer rage but are forever calm and still in your loving embrace, and that her spirit is freed for moving on swimmingly.  Amen.