Some of you may know I used to work in television. (I know, you’re thinking: With that face? But it’s true.) I was a TV news reporter for channel 8 in Grand Rapids for several years. I remember many years ago, on Christmas day, watching our 6 o’clock news. The anchor, who was Catholic, and who I believe had gone to Catholic schools all his life – grade school, high school and college – began the newscast by saying something like: Today is Christmas, the day the birth of Jesus is celebrated by Protestants and Christians. What?
Now we might laugh at that today, but when you think about it, it’s kind of sad. Remember, this was many years ago, so perhaps that anchor, who is no longer in Grand Rapids, has changed his perspective during that time. But obviously he learned, presumably in church and in school, that Catholics are the only true Christians. Protestants? Well, they used to be Christians, but then, in the 1500s, they left the one true church. That kind of thinking apparently happens the other way around as well.
Last Sunday morning about 7:30 I turned on the TV. I wanted to see what religious programs are on at that hour. I came across one with, I assume, a protestant preacher. He said that Jerusalem was the spiritual home of four faith traditions. Four? I’d always heard it was three – people who call themselves Jewish, Muslim and Christian. Who was the fourth one? I wondered. He said it was people who call themselves Jewish, Muslim, Protestant and Catholic. What?
He was dividing up Christians into Protestants and Catholics, presumably because he figured it was all right to lump all Protestants together into the Christian church, even though many Protestants seem to believe that only their particular denomination, and maybe only their individual church congregation is truly Christian. And Catholics? Why, everybody knows they’re just a cult, right? (Yeah right.) A 2,000 year old “cult” that traces its roots back to Jesus’ disciple, Peter. Maybe the best thing to do when we see these theological disputes is just to laugh them off. Sometimes that's easy to do.
A year or so ago a Protestant church and a Catholic church in Kentucky had dueling church signs. Maybe you saw this. The sign in front of the Catholic church said: All dogs go to heaven. Then the Protestant church across the street put up a sign that said: Only humans go to heaven – read the Bible. The Catholics responded with: God loves all his creations – dogs included. The Protestants fired back: Dogs don’t have souls – this is not open for debate. The Catholics shot back: Catholic dogs go to heaven – Protestant dogs can talk to their pastor. The Protestants countered: Converting to Catholicism does not magically grant your dog a soul. The Catholics replied: Free dog souls with conversion. The Protestants reacted: Dogs are animals – there aren’t any rocks in heaven either. The debate ended when the Catholics put up a sign that said: All rocks go to heaven.
Now that would be even funnier if it wasn’t so sad. Forget about negotiating a peace agreement between Israel and Egypt. Maybe Jimmy Carter should go to Kentucky and see if he can achieve peace between two churches, one Protestant and the other Catholic. If so, maybe he’d win another Nobel Peace prize. If only religious people could learn from a couple of comedians.
Did you see the Super Bowl a couple weeks ago? The Indianapolis Colts were heavily favored to win against the New Orleans Saints. But as you probably know the Saints beat the Colts. Perhaps some people saw that as a miracle. Maybe. But I think an even greater miracle that night was when David Letterman and Jay Leno appeared together in a TV commercial. The commercial was actually a promo for David Letterman’s The Late Show. If you didn’t see it, David Letterman was at one end of a couch, Jay Leno was at the other end and Oprah Winfrey was in the middle. It wasn’t special effects; it really happened. Dave says, “This is the worst Super Bowl party ever.” Oprah says, “Now Dave, be nice.” Jay says, “Oh he’s just saying that ‘cause I’m here.” Then Dave mocks Jay in a high-pitched voice, “Oh he’s just saying that ‘cause I’m here.” Jay sighs. Oprah throws up her hands in exasperation.
It was brilliant. It had comedy. It had tragedy. It had Oprah Winfrey. What more could you ask for? And all this happened within a 15 second promo.
After the Super Bowl promo aired, Jay said of Dave, “He was very gracious. We talked about the old days. We told some jokes. It was really good to see him.” He added, “whatever happened [between us] in the last 18 years disappeared.” I watched Dave the night after the Super Bowl. He downplayed the whole thing for comedic effect. He said, “Weren’t the actors who played Oprah and Jay great?”
I read an interview with Rob Burnett, David Letterman’s Executive Producer, about the promo shoot. David Letterman was given 15 seconds during the Super Bowl, which aired on CBS, to do a promo for his show, which also airs on CBS. Dave wrote it himself. Then Dave’s people got a hold of Oprah and Jay’s people and asked if they would be willing to do it. Oprah said yes and Jay jumped at the chance.
Let’s examine what happened to bring Jay and Dave together, to bring about, apparently, reconciliation. Maybe other people can follow the same steps and bring about reconciliation in their lives if they’re estranged from a co-worker, a friend or a relative. Maybe you and I can follow the same steps and bring about reconciliation in our lives if we need to.
The first thing Dave did apparently was to forgive Jay. As you probably know, Dave had been angry with Jay for almost 20 years, because Jay had been chosen by NBC to take the place of Johnny Carson on The Tonight Show. Dave wanted that job, thought he’d earned that job for hosting Late Night for many years. But of course it went to Jay. So step one was forgiveness. (And I suppose Jay had to forgive Dave for all the nasty comments he’s made about Jay on the air over the years.) Step two was reaching out. Dave invited Jay to come to his studio to record the promo. Step three was the friendliness that Dave showed toward Jay while they were together. As I mentioned, Jay said Dave was very gracious. It really wouldn’t have worked if Dave had just berated Jay from the moment he walked in till the moment he left.
We probably shouldn’t read too much into all this, of course, but it seems to me that if Jay and Dave could get together, maybe there’s hope for the rest of the world. President Obama on one end of a couch and Dick Cheney on the other. Bill O’Reilly on one end of a couch and Keith Olberman on the other. Glenn Beck on one end of a couch and Rachel Maddow on the other. And it all begins with forgiveness.
According to the Christian New Testament, when Jesus was hanging from the cross, dying, he looked at those who put him there and said to God, “Forgive them for they don’t know what they’re doing.” How could that be? How could they not know what they’re doing? Didn’t they yell, “Crucify him! Crucify him!”? Didn't they hammer nails into his body? Jesus knew all that, but he apparently knew something else as well.
I heard someplace once that if we really knew what we were doing, if we really understood what the ramifications were of what we were doing, we wouldn’t do anything to hurt someone else. If a murderer really knew and understood the impact he would have, not just on the person he killed, but on the person’s family and friends, on the murderer’s own family and friends if he’s caught and sent to prison, and the impact on his own soul, he’d never kill. But he does kill. And you can almost hear Jesus saying to God, “Forgive him, for he doesn’t know what he’s doing.” Other religious figures and faith traditions talk about forgiveness, too, of course.
Gandhi says, “An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.” In other words, vengeance doesn’t work. It just ends up hurting the vengeful person. Mother Teresa says, “If we really want to love, we must learn how to forgive.” I heard once that when we refuse to forgive, when we’re bitter and angry and seek revenge, it’s like taking a dose of poison everyday and expecting the other person to die. It just doesn’t work.
My wife dragged me to the movies the other night. The reason I say it that way is because we went to see the movie, “Avatar.” Avatar is a science fiction film. I don’t like science fiction films. Avatar had war scenes in it. I don’t like movies with war scenes in them. Avatar morphed real human actors into animated figures. I don’t like movies that morph real human actors into animated figures. After saying all that let me quickly add: I loved Avatar. I loved Avatar, because it was a great story. I love great stories. I also love movies with a political message (that’s why I like Michael Moore movies so much). And Avatar definitely had a political message.
It seems clear to me and others that Avatar was all about America’s mistreatment of American Indians. Ignoring or degrading the richness of their spiritual lives. Stealing their land. Killing men, women and children, just because they weren’t white. Will American Indians ever be able to reconcile with America? I don’t know, but I think it’ll take more than being granted the right to make money off casinos.
Back when Bill Clinton was president, I visited Washington DC with my daughter. We were standing outside the White House about 6:30 at night when Helen Thomas, the longtime White House correspondent, came out, presumably going home for the night. My daughter got Helen Thomas’ autograph. As she was signing her name, Helen Thomas said, “I think President Clinton just solved the conflict in Northern Ireland.” I said, “And I’ll bet he won’t get credit for it either.” She stopped writing, looked right at me and said, “No. The armchair quarterbacks in this town don’t give him credit for anything.”
Now, I tell you that story, not to demonstrate that Helen Thomas and I are both a couple of liberals. (Although when I told that story to her niece, my then colleague, channel 8 anchor Suzanne Geha, she said of her aunt Helen and me, “You two are two peas in a pod.”) I tell you that story to get us to think of the possibilities. If Protestants and Catholics can get together in Northern Ireland (with President Clinton’s help, even if he doesn’t get credit for it), could Jews and Muslims get together in the Middle East? Could Christians and Muslims get together in America? Could Reformed and Christian Reformed churches get together in West Michigan? We started Interfaith Congregation in hopes of bringing people together – Protestants and Catholics, Christians and Jews, Muslims and Hindus, Buddhists and Baha’is.
I’m reminded of John Lennon’s song, “Imagine.” “Imagine all the people, living life in peace.” Yes, imagine that. It’s easy if you try. Well, almost easy.
Tiger Woods apologized Friday morning for his serial adulteries with women across the country. Did you see that? Some say he did it just to try to repair his tarnished image with the public and to make sure the endorsements keep coming, the ones that make him the richest athlete in the world. Perhaps. But he looked serious and sincere to me, especially when he sought forgiveness from his wife, Elin.
Presumably he’s looking for reconciliation with Elin. I’d say he doesn’t stand a chance. But then again, I saw David Letterman reconcile with Jay Leno. Right there on national television. So, maybe anything’s possible.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Monday, February 15, 2010
Wooden Shoe Be My Valentine?
When I was in first or second grade, I remember looking for my first Valentine’s Day card. I still remember the one I found. It had a Dutch clog on the cover. You opened up the card and inside it said, “Wooden shoe be my Valentine?” I cracked up! I thought that was a hoot! (Now, remember I was only about 6 or 7 years old. Of course, I still think it’s funny, so, unfortunately, I don’t think my sense of humor has progressed much over the years. I still enjoy bad puns.) Did you give someone a Valentine’s Day card? Did someone give you a Valentine’s Day card? I hope so.
I remember a Peanuts TV Special, where Charlie Brown didn’t get any Valentine’s Day cards. Even Snoopy got a bunch of Valentine cards. But not Charlie Brown. Not even from the little red-haired girl he had a crush on. People can be so cruel, so thoughtless, sometimes, maybe without even knowing it.
But I remember back when we were kids, or at least when I was a kid, early in elementary school, you gave Valentine’s Day cards to everybody. Or at least to all the girls or all the boys in your class. You didn’t discriminate. You loved everybody. Or you didn’t want anybody to feel left out, like Charlie Brown. And you didn’t want to feel left out yourself, like Charlie Brown, so you hoped people gave you Valentine’s Day cards, too. It’s too bad we’re not still that way now, where we give Valentine cards to everybody. But by the time we’re an adult, many people have settled on one love in their life, on one Valentine, on one beloved.
Kathleen and I recently celebrated our one-year wedding anniversary. When we got married, I helped plan the wedding, wrote a bunch of what we said. Because of my support for same-sex marriage, I wanted to use words that were gender-neutral, not use terms like husband and wife. So I suggested calling her, “my significant other.” That didn’t go over well at all. Sounded too lawyerly. I redeemed myself, I think, when I called her, “my beloved.” Who is our beloved? Is our beloved only our spouse, our partner, our significant other, if you will? Who is our beloved?
My daughter was born 18 years ago this coming June. (Wait a minute. That can’t be right, can it? 18 years ago? Oy!) Anyway, when my daughter was born, the first thing she heard, at least from me was, “Hi Erin. Daddy loves you.” She was, and still is, and will always be, my beloved. So, our children are our beloveds, too, aren’t they? And if we have grandchildren, they’re our beloveds, too, don’t you think? Heck, some people treat their pets like their children, so I would imagine for them (and often times, for me, too, I must confess) our pets are our beloveds, too.
This past Thursday night, a couple friends and I went to the grand re-opening of the Little Mexico restaurant in Grand Rapids. We were there the night it burned down a year-and-a-half ago or so. (In fact, I think I might have even started the fire. That night, I had the hottest pepper I’ve ever had in my life. My mouth was on fire! I’m thinking that an ember fell from my mouth onto the carpet. Hopefully I’m wrong about that.) Anyway, we thought it was only fitting, since we were there the night it closed, that we should be there when it reopened. We waited an hour to get in, but it was worth it. And we had a good time, my friends and I. Our friends are our beloveds, too, aren’t they? For some people, complete strangers are their beloveds. Think of the people helping out in Haiti. I would think they see the people in Haiti as their beloveds. A couple weeks ago, this congregation gave money to help out in Haiti, I would imagine because people here see the people in Haiti as their beloveds. So, spouses, partners, children, grandchildren, pets, friends and complete strangers – many people would call them their beloveds. Think about God, God must have a ton of beloveds, don’t you think?
According to the Christian New Testament, Jesus takes Peter and John and James up to a mountain to pray. As Jesus prayed, his countenance changed and his clothes became a dazzling white. Then Moses and Elijah appeared with Jesus. They talked about his upcoming death. Peter and John and James apparently were sleeping while this went on and then woke up. When Moses and Elijah were leaving, Peter says to Jesus, “Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah.” Then a cloud came and overshadowed them; and Peter and John and James were scared half to death. Then a voice came from the cloud, presumably God, “This is my Son, my Beloved, listen to him!” Then Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent and didn’t tell anybody about all this until later.
In the New Revised Standard Version and in the New International Version, Jesus is called “My chosen.” But in the King James Version he is called, “My beloved.” I like that better. (Besides, as one preacher was heard to proclaim: If the King James Version was good enough for Jesus, it’s good enough for me!) We heard Jesus called beloved when he was baptized.
In the Gospel of Matthew, when Jesus came up out of the waters, the heavens opened up and Jesus saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove on him; then he heard a voice from heaven saying, “This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.”
Is Jesus God’s only beloved? In the Christian New Testament, God does not refer to anyone else as God’s beloved. I checked the Hebrew scriptures; no one else is referred to as God’s beloved there either. Does God have only one beloved, Jesus? What about you? What about me? What about everyone else?
On Friday night, a bunch of us went to the Alliance for Cultural and Ethnic Harmony. They showed a biography of the late Thurgood Marshall. Before he was appointed as the first African-American to sit on the U.S. Supreme Court by President Johnson in 1967, Thurgood Marshall was a long-time civil rights lawyer for the NAACP. He was the lawyer, as you may know, who argued and won the Brown v. Board of Education case in 1954, ending Separate and Unequal education for our nation’s black children. If God exists, I have to believe that Thurgood Marshall is one of God’s beloveds.
A couple weeks ago, our Spiritual Cinema group watched the movie, “Gandhi.” Gandhi was a lawyer, also. He fought for equal rights in South Africa. He successfully ended British rule in his native India. He was called Mahatma, which means great soul. Many of us find guidance and inspiration in the way he lived. If God exists, I have to believe that Gandhi is one of God’s beloveds.
Kathleen and I are reading a book called, “The Faith Club.” It’s by three women, a Christian, a Muslim and a Jew. They came together hoping to write a children’s book explaining their three faiths. But then they became friends, curious about each other’s religion. It’s a wonderful book. I imagine it is helping spread the Interfaith message. If God exists, I have to believe that those women, a Christian, a Muslim and a Jew, are three of God’s beloveds.
As I look around this room I think: If God exists, I have to believe that all of you are God’s beloveds too.
A couple weeks ago, Kathleen, who is a church secretary, sent me the latest church bulletin bloopers. You may have heard about these. They’re the things hurried and harried church secretaries put in church bulletins without really thinking about how funny they sound. “The Fasting and Prayer Conference includes meals.” “The sermon this morning: Jesus Walks on the Water. The sermon tonight: Searching for Jesus.” “Don’t let worry kill you – let the church help.”
People give many reasons for going to church or a house of worship, like this one. Not just for the sermons (sad to say – I’m kidding!). Often times they go for the friendships, the relationships, to see the ones they’ve come to like, and maybe even love. They go to see their beloveds, if you will. Of course some people get that without even going to church.
The Dalai Lama says, “I believe that the practice of compassion and love – a genuine sense of brotherhood and sisterhood – is the universal religion. It does not matter whether you are Buddhist or Christian, Moslem or Hindu, or whether you practice religion at all.” It’s all about compassion and love. Who could argue with that?
One of my New Year’s Resolutions this year is to preach sermons, or give talks, where I don’t tell people – you all - what to do. Instead, I’m going to say what I’m going to do as a result of what I’ve just said. You’re welcome to do it, too, if you want. But this is what I need to hear, what I need to do. And what I need to do, what I want to do, on Valentine’s Day and everyday, is to treat everybody like we did back in elementary school, when we gave everyone a Valentine’s Day card: love everybody, love everybody, love everybody.
Happy Valentine’s Day! (And here’s a Valentine’s Day card for each one of you. Sorry, I’m not Oprah; I can’t afford to give you a car, only a card.) Now don’t take this the wrong way, but each one of you is my beloved.
I remember a Peanuts TV Special, where Charlie Brown didn’t get any Valentine’s Day cards. Even Snoopy got a bunch of Valentine cards. But not Charlie Brown. Not even from the little red-haired girl he had a crush on. People can be so cruel, so thoughtless, sometimes, maybe without even knowing it.
But I remember back when we were kids, or at least when I was a kid, early in elementary school, you gave Valentine’s Day cards to everybody. Or at least to all the girls or all the boys in your class. You didn’t discriminate. You loved everybody. Or you didn’t want anybody to feel left out, like Charlie Brown. And you didn’t want to feel left out yourself, like Charlie Brown, so you hoped people gave you Valentine’s Day cards, too. It’s too bad we’re not still that way now, where we give Valentine cards to everybody. But by the time we’re an adult, many people have settled on one love in their life, on one Valentine, on one beloved.
Kathleen and I recently celebrated our one-year wedding anniversary. When we got married, I helped plan the wedding, wrote a bunch of what we said. Because of my support for same-sex marriage, I wanted to use words that were gender-neutral, not use terms like husband and wife. So I suggested calling her, “my significant other.” That didn’t go over well at all. Sounded too lawyerly. I redeemed myself, I think, when I called her, “my beloved.” Who is our beloved? Is our beloved only our spouse, our partner, our significant other, if you will? Who is our beloved?
My daughter was born 18 years ago this coming June. (Wait a minute. That can’t be right, can it? 18 years ago? Oy!) Anyway, when my daughter was born, the first thing she heard, at least from me was, “Hi Erin. Daddy loves you.” She was, and still is, and will always be, my beloved. So, our children are our beloveds, too, aren’t they? And if we have grandchildren, they’re our beloveds, too, don’t you think? Heck, some people treat their pets like their children, so I would imagine for them (and often times, for me, too, I must confess) our pets are our beloveds, too.
This past Thursday night, a couple friends and I went to the grand re-opening of the Little Mexico restaurant in Grand Rapids. We were there the night it burned down a year-and-a-half ago or so. (In fact, I think I might have even started the fire. That night, I had the hottest pepper I’ve ever had in my life. My mouth was on fire! I’m thinking that an ember fell from my mouth onto the carpet. Hopefully I’m wrong about that.) Anyway, we thought it was only fitting, since we were there the night it closed, that we should be there when it reopened. We waited an hour to get in, but it was worth it. And we had a good time, my friends and I. Our friends are our beloveds, too, aren’t they? For some people, complete strangers are their beloveds. Think of the people helping out in Haiti. I would think they see the people in Haiti as their beloveds. A couple weeks ago, this congregation gave money to help out in Haiti, I would imagine because people here see the people in Haiti as their beloveds. So, spouses, partners, children, grandchildren, pets, friends and complete strangers – many people would call them their beloveds. Think about God, God must have a ton of beloveds, don’t you think?
According to the Christian New Testament, Jesus takes Peter and John and James up to a mountain to pray. As Jesus prayed, his countenance changed and his clothes became a dazzling white. Then Moses and Elijah appeared with Jesus. They talked about his upcoming death. Peter and John and James apparently were sleeping while this went on and then woke up. When Moses and Elijah were leaving, Peter says to Jesus, “Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah.” Then a cloud came and overshadowed them; and Peter and John and James were scared half to death. Then a voice came from the cloud, presumably God, “This is my Son, my Beloved, listen to him!” Then Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent and didn’t tell anybody about all this until later.
In the New Revised Standard Version and in the New International Version, Jesus is called “My chosen.” But in the King James Version he is called, “My beloved.” I like that better. (Besides, as one preacher was heard to proclaim: If the King James Version was good enough for Jesus, it’s good enough for me!) We heard Jesus called beloved when he was baptized.
In the Gospel of Matthew, when Jesus came up out of the waters, the heavens opened up and Jesus saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove on him; then he heard a voice from heaven saying, “This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.”
Is Jesus God’s only beloved? In the Christian New Testament, God does not refer to anyone else as God’s beloved. I checked the Hebrew scriptures; no one else is referred to as God’s beloved there either. Does God have only one beloved, Jesus? What about you? What about me? What about everyone else?
On Friday night, a bunch of us went to the Alliance for Cultural and Ethnic Harmony. They showed a biography of the late Thurgood Marshall. Before he was appointed as the first African-American to sit on the U.S. Supreme Court by President Johnson in 1967, Thurgood Marshall was a long-time civil rights lawyer for the NAACP. He was the lawyer, as you may know, who argued and won the Brown v. Board of Education case in 1954, ending Separate and Unequal education for our nation’s black children. If God exists, I have to believe that Thurgood Marshall is one of God’s beloveds.
A couple weeks ago, our Spiritual Cinema group watched the movie, “Gandhi.” Gandhi was a lawyer, also. He fought for equal rights in South Africa. He successfully ended British rule in his native India. He was called Mahatma, which means great soul. Many of us find guidance and inspiration in the way he lived. If God exists, I have to believe that Gandhi is one of God’s beloveds.
Kathleen and I are reading a book called, “The Faith Club.” It’s by three women, a Christian, a Muslim and a Jew. They came together hoping to write a children’s book explaining their three faiths. But then they became friends, curious about each other’s religion. It’s a wonderful book. I imagine it is helping spread the Interfaith message. If God exists, I have to believe that those women, a Christian, a Muslim and a Jew, are three of God’s beloveds.
As I look around this room I think: If God exists, I have to believe that all of you are God’s beloveds too.
A couple weeks ago, Kathleen, who is a church secretary, sent me the latest church bulletin bloopers. You may have heard about these. They’re the things hurried and harried church secretaries put in church bulletins without really thinking about how funny they sound. “The Fasting and Prayer Conference includes meals.” “The sermon this morning: Jesus Walks on the Water. The sermon tonight: Searching for Jesus.” “Don’t let worry kill you – let the church help.”
People give many reasons for going to church or a house of worship, like this one. Not just for the sermons (sad to say – I’m kidding!). Often times they go for the friendships, the relationships, to see the ones they’ve come to like, and maybe even love. They go to see their beloveds, if you will. Of course some people get that without even going to church.
The Dalai Lama says, “I believe that the practice of compassion and love – a genuine sense of brotherhood and sisterhood – is the universal religion. It does not matter whether you are Buddhist or Christian, Moslem or Hindu, or whether you practice religion at all.” It’s all about compassion and love. Who could argue with that?
One of my New Year’s Resolutions this year is to preach sermons, or give talks, where I don’t tell people – you all - what to do. Instead, I’m going to say what I’m going to do as a result of what I’ve just said. You’re welcome to do it, too, if you want. But this is what I need to hear, what I need to do. And what I need to do, what I want to do, on Valentine’s Day and everyday, is to treat everybody like we did back in elementary school, when we gave everyone a Valentine’s Day card: love everybody, love everybody, love everybody.
Happy Valentine’s Day! (And here’s a Valentine’s Day card for each one of you. Sorry, I’m not Oprah; I can’t afford to give you a car, only a card.) Now don’t take this the wrong way, but each one of you is my beloved.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Confessions Of A Secular Humorist
I was coming out of JP’s coffee shop a couple weeks ago and I was thinking about this new group we were starting called Interfaith Congregation. I said to myself, “You know, Willy, if you do this, people are going to accuse you of being a Secular Humorist. No, wait a minute! I mean a Secular Humanist!” Then I thought, “Oh, I’ve got to use that as the title for a talk: Confessions of a Secular Humorist.”
Actually I have two confessions to make. I’m not really secular and I’m not really a humorist. When I say I’m not really secular, what I mean is, I see all things as sacred. I know some people divide up the world between the secular and the sacred. I don’t do that. I see the secular as sacred. So, I suppose if you do that, you’re not really secular. And I’m definitely not a humorist. Mark Twain is a humorist. Dave Barry is a humorist. Garrison Keillor is a humorist. I enjoy humor. I’m a reader of humorists and a watcher of humorists, but I'm not a humorst.
I did dabble in standup comedy many years ago. I took part for a couple years in something called “The Grand Rapids Joke-Off.” It was a competition between media people. I came in second one year. Wow. The second funniest media person in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Whoopee! It was probably good that I didn’t come in first or I would’ve convinced myself that I was a humorist. Although I did MC at a comedy club for a couple weekends. I told a few jokes, did a few impressions. “This is Casey Kasem. Time now for our long distance dedication.” “I’m Andy Rooney. Why is it I can never open a child proof cap? I wonder about that.” “This is Walter Cronkite and that’s the way it is.” I’ve been working on a new impression lately. Susan Boyle. “I dreamed a dream in time gone by.” Maybe I need to keep working on it. We need laughter in our lives. I don’t think you can live your life fully alive without a sense of humor, what the religious call a sense of joy. I think I’ve always had a sense of joy or a sense of humor in my life.
One of my favorite comedians as a kid was Flip Wilson. He told funny stories, as opposed to telling jokes. He told one story about a kid who sold lemonade on his front lawn. His sign said, “Lemonade. All you can drink for a dime.” A guy drives by, stops. He buys a glass of lemonade. He finishes it. He says, “That was very good. I’ll have another glass.” The kid says, “That’ll be another dime.” The guy says, “What do you mean? Your sign says, ‘Lemonade. All you can drink for a dime.’” The kid says, “That’s right, but you had a glass, didn’t you?” The guy says, “Yeah.” The kid says, “Well, that’s all you can drink for a dime.”
I was talking the other night with a guy who likes comedian Emo Phillips. I do, too. We were trading Emo Phillips jokes. I saw Emo Phillips in Grand Rapids many years ago. He told us, “My brother says, ‘Hello,’ so hurray for speech therapy!” He said, “I’ll leave you with the last words of my Grandfather. ‘Oh, a truck.’” He said when he was a kid his parents always told him, “Don’t go near the cellar door.” They told him that for years. “Don’t go near the cellar door.” He said that one day the cellar door was open just a crack, so he pushed it open and walked through. He said, “It was wonderful. I saw things I’d never seen before. Green grass! Blue sky! The sun!”
Jim Gaffigan is one of my favorite comedians today. He’s also an actor and he’s in commercials. But I really like his standup comedy. I saw him on Comedy Central a few months ago. He said, “I’m a vegetarian. But I’m not a strict vegetarian. I also eat chicken. And beef. And pork. But not fish. That’s disgusting!” He said, “I talked with a vegetarian once. He said, ‘I haven’t eaten meat in 5 years.’ Well, I haven’t eaten a banana in a month, but you don’t hear me bragging about it.” We need to laugh. They say it’s good for your health. I think it’s also good for your soul. But not all religious people seem to be able to laugh.
A waiter who knew I was a minister said to me once that a group of Christian men come in for lunch once a week. He said every week they were so serious. They never laughed. They never even cracked a smile. He said, “I thought Christians were supposed to be all about ‘The Good News.’” I said, “I know. But some Christians seem to think that God frowns on laughter. I’m not sure where they get that idea from, but it seems to be what it is that keeps them humorless.”
Before I went to seminary, a friend of mine, who grew up in the Christian Reformed Church, said to me, “Just don’t take the class where they suck all the humor out of you.” I told him that I’d try to avoid that class. I know what he meant. Religious people, like that Christian men’s group, seem extremely depressed. Now, don’t get me wrong, the ministry is sometimes a serious business. You visit people who are dying. You counsel women who've been abused. You do funerals of 16-year-olds who commit suicide. It’s a serious business. But it’s not always serious. You can laugh sometimes.
I gave a talk the other night at the Alliance For Cultural and Ethnic Harmony. Somebody said, “You must have a funny story or two as a liberal guy who attended Western Theological Seminary here in Holland.” I said, I do. I told of the time we were in class and our very serious professor was talking about how the Bible speaks against homosexuality. I raised my hand and pointed out that the Bible also speaks against women preaching in church, but we just ignore those passages today. He basically just ignored me. He continued on about how the Bible speaks against homosexuality. I raised my hand again and pointed out that the Bible speaks in favor of slavery, but we just ignore those passages today. He basically just ignored me again. He then changed subjects and started talking about the environment and how we need to control our population or the world will be severely overcrowded. I raised my hand again and said, “Maybe homosexuality is God’s way of keeping the population down.” Stunned silence. His jaw dropped open for about 10 seconds. Then he started laughing. “Oh, that’s a good one, Mr. Freeman. Ha, ha, ha.” We all need to laugh, even if what someone has said wasn’t totally meant to be funny. But hey, at least I got a very serious professor to laugh.
I googled humor in the Bible. Maybe it’s just me, or maybe some religious people try too hard to find humor where there isn’t any. But one site mentioned that in the Psalms it says, “God laughed.” I looked it up. It says: God laughed at them in derision. Really? That’s humor? Laughing at someone in derision? Sounds more like cruelty to me. They say that what separates humans from animals is that humans have a sense of humor and animals don’t. I’m not so sure. I think the lowest form of humor is laughing at someone in trouble, in pain, suffering. Humans do that. I wonder if animals do that, too. Someone in the south told me they were watching a fawn drinking out of a pond one day. (You probably know what’s coming next. The squeamish might want to cover their ears for the next 15 seconds.) All of a sudden an alligator came up out of the water and bit off one of the fawn’s legs. The fawn struggled for a minute or two, then the alligator came back and pulled it under the water. I wonder if, in that minute or two, the alligator wasn’t chuckling to himself, enjoying the fawn’s suffering. It would make evolutionary sense, I suppose, if what I think is the lowest form of humor in humans is perhaps the highest form of humor in the animal world.
I do believe humor exists among the religious. There are sculptures of a laughing Buddha. And people have paintings of a laughing Jesus. I do believe Jesus laughed. He enjoyed telling stories about parties and attending wedding receptions too much not to have laughed.
I don’t want to get stereotypical here, but Jews are known for their sense of humor. I remember an episode of Seinfeld where a comedian converted to Judaism. Jerry Seinfeld suspected that the guy converted to Judaism just for the jokes. I think some people need more than just converting to Judaism. They have to have a humor implant. Thankfully, though, many people do have a sense of humor.
I think most people know it’s important to laugh. That’s why we have so many options for laughter at the end of the day. Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert. David Letterman, Craig Ferguson, Conan O’Brien, Jimmy Fallon, Jimmy Kimmel. They all make me laugh.
I read someplace that Jay Leno may move back into late night. Not enough people are watching his show at 10 o’clock. Maybe people have to watch the 11 o’clock news before they watch comedy, to have a reason to laugh after facing reality. And there’s a lot of reality that we all have to face.
The underwear bomber. The shoe bomber. Wars and rumors of wars. Loved ones die in a war. Loved ones die in a car accident. Loved ones die in a cancer ward. Life’s too short. Life’s too tragic sometimes. That’s why we have to hold on to humor whenever we can. That’s why we have to laugh whenever we can. That’s why we have to chuckle whenever we can. That’s why we have to giggle whenever we can. There is one exception to that.
To get back to the underwear bomber for a second. To thwart terrorists, they’re thinking of putting Full Body Scanners in airports. The scanners allow screeners to see you naked. I assume the scanners will be staffed by both women and men, which is fine. I wouldn’t have a problem going through a Full Body Scanner. I just hope they train the women sufficiently enough so that when I go through and they see me naked they don’t point and giggle.
We all have to laugh sometime. Many people make New Year’s Resolutions. If you’re still looking for one, how about this: Take every opportunity in 2010 to laugh, to chuckle, to giggle - with others, and at yourself sometimes. Who knows? They say laughter is the best medicine, so if there are health benefits to laughter, maybe it’ll help you live longer. Happy New Year!
Actually I have two confessions to make. I’m not really secular and I’m not really a humorist. When I say I’m not really secular, what I mean is, I see all things as sacred. I know some people divide up the world between the secular and the sacred. I don’t do that. I see the secular as sacred. So, I suppose if you do that, you’re not really secular. And I’m definitely not a humorist. Mark Twain is a humorist. Dave Barry is a humorist. Garrison Keillor is a humorist. I enjoy humor. I’m a reader of humorists and a watcher of humorists, but I'm not a humorst.
I did dabble in standup comedy many years ago. I took part for a couple years in something called “The Grand Rapids Joke-Off.” It was a competition between media people. I came in second one year. Wow. The second funniest media person in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Whoopee! It was probably good that I didn’t come in first or I would’ve convinced myself that I was a humorist. Although I did MC at a comedy club for a couple weekends. I told a few jokes, did a few impressions. “This is Casey Kasem. Time now for our long distance dedication.” “I’m Andy Rooney. Why is it I can never open a child proof cap? I wonder about that.” “This is Walter Cronkite and that’s the way it is.” I’ve been working on a new impression lately. Susan Boyle. “I dreamed a dream in time gone by.” Maybe I need to keep working on it. We need laughter in our lives. I don’t think you can live your life fully alive without a sense of humor, what the religious call a sense of joy. I think I’ve always had a sense of joy or a sense of humor in my life.
One of my favorite comedians as a kid was Flip Wilson. He told funny stories, as opposed to telling jokes. He told one story about a kid who sold lemonade on his front lawn. His sign said, “Lemonade. All you can drink for a dime.” A guy drives by, stops. He buys a glass of lemonade. He finishes it. He says, “That was very good. I’ll have another glass.” The kid says, “That’ll be another dime.” The guy says, “What do you mean? Your sign says, ‘Lemonade. All you can drink for a dime.’” The kid says, “That’s right, but you had a glass, didn’t you?” The guy says, “Yeah.” The kid says, “Well, that’s all you can drink for a dime.”
I was talking the other night with a guy who likes comedian Emo Phillips. I do, too. We were trading Emo Phillips jokes. I saw Emo Phillips in Grand Rapids many years ago. He told us, “My brother says, ‘Hello,’ so hurray for speech therapy!” He said, “I’ll leave you with the last words of my Grandfather. ‘Oh, a truck.’” He said when he was a kid his parents always told him, “Don’t go near the cellar door.” They told him that for years. “Don’t go near the cellar door.” He said that one day the cellar door was open just a crack, so he pushed it open and walked through. He said, “It was wonderful. I saw things I’d never seen before. Green grass! Blue sky! The sun!”
Jim Gaffigan is one of my favorite comedians today. He’s also an actor and he’s in commercials. But I really like his standup comedy. I saw him on Comedy Central a few months ago. He said, “I’m a vegetarian. But I’m not a strict vegetarian. I also eat chicken. And beef. And pork. But not fish. That’s disgusting!” He said, “I talked with a vegetarian once. He said, ‘I haven’t eaten meat in 5 years.’ Well, I haven’t eaten a banana in a month, but you don’t hear me bragging about it.” We need to laugh. They say it’s good for your health. I think it’s also good for your soul. But not all religious people seem to be able to laugh.
A waiter who knew I was a minister said to me once that a group of Christian men come in for lunch once a week. He said every week they were so serious. They never laughed. They never even cracked a smile. He said, “I thought Christians were supposed to be all about ‘The Good News.’” I said, “I know. But some Christians seem to think that God frowns on laughter. I’m not sure where they get that idea from, but it seems to be what it is that keeps them humorless.”
Before I went to seminary, a friend of mine, who grew up in the Christian Reformed Church, said to me, “Just don’t take the class where they suck all the humor out of you.” I told him that I’d try to avoid that class. I know what he meant. Religious people, like that Christian men’s group, seem extremely depressed. Now, don’t get me wrong, the ministry is sometimes a serious business. You visit people who are dying. You counsel women who've been abused. You do funerals of 16-year-olds who commit suicide. It’s a serious business. But it’s not always serious. You can laugh sometimes.
I gave a talk the other night at the Alliance For Cultural and Ethnic Harmony. Somebody said, “You must have a funny story or two as a liberal guy who attended Western Theological Seminary here in Holland.” I said, I do. I told of the time we were in class and our very serious professor was talking about how the Bible speaks against homosexuality. I raised my hand and pointed out that the Bible also speaks against women preaching in church, but we just ignore those passages today. He basically just ignored me. He continued on about how the Bible speaks against homosexuality. I raised my hand again and pointed out that the Bible speaks in favor of slavery, but we just ignore those passages today. He basically just ignored me again. He then changed subjects and started talking about the environment and how we need to control our population or the world will be severely overcrowded. I raised my hand again and said, “Maybe homosexuality is God’s way of keeping the population down.” Stunned silence. His jaw dropped open for about 10 seconds. Then he started laughing. “Oh, that’s a good one, Mr. Freeman. Ha, ha, ha.” We all need to laugh, even if what someone has said wasn’t totally meant to be funny. But hey, at least I got a very serious professor to laugh.
I googled humor in the Bible. Maybe it’s just me, or maybe some religious people try too hard to find humor where there isn’t any. But one site mentioned that in the Psalms it says, “God laughed.” I looked it up. It says: God laughed at them in derision. Really? That’s humor? Laughing at someone in derision? Sounds more like cruelty to me. They say that what separates humans from animals is that humans have a sense of humor and animals don’t. I’m not so sure. I think the lowest form of humor is laughing at someone in trouble, in pain, suffering. Humans do that. I wonder if animals do that, too. Someone in the south told me they were watching a fawn drinking out of a pond one day. (You probably know what’s coming next. The squeamish might want to cover their ears for the next 15 seconds.) All of a sudden an alligator came up out of the water and bit off one of the fawn’s legs. The fawn struggled for a minute or two, then the alligator came back and pulled it under the water. I wonder if, in that minute or two, the alligator wasn’t chuckling to himself, enjoying the fawn’s suffering. It would make evolutionary sense, I suppose, if what I think is the lowest form of humor in humans is perhaps the highest form of humor in the animal world.
I do believe humor exists among the religious. There are sculptures of a laughing Buddha. And people have paintings of a laughing Jesus. I do believe Jesus laughed. He enjoyed telling stories about parties and attending wedding receptions too much not to have laughed.
I don’t want to get stereotypical here, but Jews are known for their sense of humor. I remember an episode of Seinfeld where a comedian converted to Judaism. Jerry Seinfeld suspected that the guy converted to Judaism just for the jokes. I think some people need more than just converting to Judaism. They have to have a humor implant. Thankfully, though, many people do have a sense of humor.
I think most people know it’s important to laugh. That’s why we have so many options for laughter at the end of the day. Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert. David Letterman, Craig Ferguson, Conan O’Brien, Jimmy Fallon, Jimmy Kimmel. They all make me laugh.
I read someplace that Jay Leno may move back into late night. Not enough people are watching his show at 10 o’clock. Maybe people have to watch the 11 o’clock news before they watch comedy, to have a reason to laugh after facing reality. And there’s a lot of reality that we all have to face.
The underwear bomber. The shoe bomber. Wars and rumors of wars. Loved ones die in a war. Loved ones die in a car accident. Loved ones die in a cancer ward. Life’s too short. Life’s too tragic sometimes. That’s why we have to hold on to humor whenever we can. That’s why we have to laugh whenever we can. That’s why we have to chuckle whenever we can. That’s why we have to giggle whenever we can. There is one exception to that.
To get back to the underwear bomber for a second. To thwart terrorists, they’re thinking of putting Full Body Scanners in airports. The scanners allow screeners to see you naked. I assume the scanners will be staffed by both women and men, which is fine. I wouldn’t have a problem going through a Full Body Scanner. I just hope they train the women sufficiently enough so that when I go through and they see me naked they don’t point and giggle.
We all have to laugh sometime. Many people make New Year’s Resolutions. If you’re still looking for one, how about this: Take every opportunity in 2010 to laugh, to chuckle, to giggle - with others, and at yourself sometimes. Who knows? They say laughter is the best medicine, so if there are health benefits to laughter, maybe it’ll help you live longer. Happy New Year!
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
"The Journey To Interfaith"
When I was in the third grade, back in the early ‘60s, my public school classroom had a Christmas party. At one point I looked around and noticed one of my classmates wasn’t there. I asked my teacher where she was. When I remember what she said it sounds an awful lot like an adult in a Charlie Brown TV special. Wah, wah. Wah wah, wah wah. But I know that what she basically said was: The girl was Jewish and Jews don’t believe in Christmas so she didn’t come to school that day. I was shocked. I knew something wasn’t right, but I didn’t know what to say at the time. I think I’ve always been sensitive to those who feel left out.
Fast forward to a few years ago. I’m a minister living in a parsonage in a small town. On one side of the parsonage was the church and on the other side of the parsonage was a public school. I was invited by the school to come to their Thanksgiving lunch, the day before Thanksgiving. Great! Before we ate, a school official turns to me and says, “Pastor would you like to say a prayer?” And I’m thinking: No, I would not like to say a prayer; not in a public school; I’m a card-carrying member of the ACLU for crying out loud. Why would I want to say a prayer? But what was I going to do? So I said, “Let us bow our heads. We give thanks for this food and we give thanks for the hands that prepared it. Amen.” Now, I never mentioned God and I certainly never mentioned Jesus. I hoped that would pass muster with the ACLU (if not with God and Jesus). I think I’ve always wanted to include everyone.
I went to high school in Germany. (Not because I was smart, but because my father was a civilian in the military.) We went to church on an Air Force base. At the end of a road, the Protestant church was on one side of the street and the Catholic church was on the other. One day, I’m sitting in the Protestant church and a guy comes in, goes up to about the 5th row, drops down on one knee, crosses himself and sits down. About 30 seconds later he realizes he’s in the Protestant church and not the Catholic church and he quietly leaves. Then, many years later, I would wonder what we can do to bring Protestant and Catholics and all Christians, as well as Buddhists and Hindus and all faiths together. Maybe I’ve believed that since I felt called to the ministry.
I felt called to the ministry on my birthday in 2001. My birthday is 9-11. After seeing those planes crash into the World Trade Center, the Pentagon and a field in Pennsylvania, I decided to pursue a path to pastoring, to one day preach love in a sometimes hateful world. I think even then I had hopes of bringing people together.
Then I went to seminary, Western Theological Seminary here in Holland. I took a sacraments class, where we learned about Communion and Baptism. One night, I called my Mom and said, “Have I ever been baptized?” She said, “Well, when you were a kid, we went to a church that didn’t believe in infant baptism. So, unless you were baptized as an adult, no, you’ve never been baptized.” So I went to my teaching church, where I was doing an internship and I said to my teaching church pastor, “I don’t think I’ve ever been baptized. If I’m going to be a Christian minister, I suppose I should be baptized.” He said, “Well, duh,” or something like that. So that Sunday we scheduled my baptism. I woke up that Sunday morning, looked at the calendar and said, “Oh my goodness. It’s December 7th, Pearl Harbor Day.” The church wanted me to say something before I was baptized. I said that I hoped my birthday, 9-11, and my baptism day, December 7th, would mean that my ministry would be about justice and peace. Again, I think even then I had hopes of bringing people of all faiths together.
Then this past October, I wrote a column for the Holland Sentinel about a vision I had of bringing all people of faith together. The column came out on a Saturday. I read it when it appeared and said to myself, “Okay, Willy, what are you going to do to bring all people of faith together?” I didn’t know. The next day, I preached about it and said: What are we going to do about it? We should start an interfaith group or something. That afternoon, I went to the home of some Baha’is. They said: Nice column yesterday. I said: Thanks, but what can we do about it? They said: Well, after 9-11, we had an interfaith group for a while, but then it fizzled out. I said: Let’s start it again and I invited people over to our house that week. We’ve been meeting every week since. The Sunday that I preached about interfaith togetherness and we planned our first meeting was October 25, 2009, Reformation Sunday, the day protestants celebrate Martin Luther deciding that the church needed to reform. I feel the same way. Now, I hope that those three dates: my birthday, 9-11, my baptism day, December 7th, and now the day I preached about interfaith togetherness, Reformation Sunday, mean that my ministry will be devoted to justice and peace and being welcoming to all people of faith. I think Jesus felt the same way. Eventually.
Jesus is approached by a Canaanite woman, a Gentile, a non-Jew. She wants him to cure her daughter. Jesus tells her, "I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel." But she pleads with him, "Lord, help me." He answers her, "It is not fair to take the children's food and throw it to the dogs." She says, "Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters' table." Then Jesus tells her, "Woman, great is your faith!” And her daughter is healed. Christian preachers go through all kinds of contortions trying to explain away what seems to be a fairly heartless indifference from Jesus to the woman’s plea for help. "Oh, he didn’t really compare her to a dog; it was more like a puppy." Oh, that’s much better. I think what happened that day was that that woman helped Jesus to realize his message wasn’t just for one group of people; his message was for all people. I think that day Jesus became an interfaith minister.
You can find other examples of interfaith ideas in the Bible. The Psalmist says, “Praise the Lord, all you nations! Extol God, all you peoples! For great is God’s steadfast love toward us, and the faithfulness of the Lord endures forever. Praise the Lord!” The Psalmist doesn’t say: For great is God’s steadfast love toward some of us. He says: For great is God’s steadfast love toward us. All of us. Each and everyone of us. Jews and Gentiles. Everybody.
Martin Luther King, Jr. spoke about interfaith ideas, too. In his “I have a Dream” speech in Washington, DC, in 1963, Dr. King said, “I have a dream…when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands.” I have that same dream. So did Gandhi.
Gandhi says, “I am a Muslim and a Hindu and a Christian and a Jew.” That’s how I feel, too. I am a Christian and a Jew and a Muslim and a Hindu and a Buddhist and a Baha’i and a Unitarian Universalist and an agnostic and an atheist. I am one with every one. We are all one.
The Dalai Lama, a Buddhist, says, “My religion is simple. My religion is kindness.” If only all religions were about kindness. Too many religious people, unfortunately including many Christians, seem to be more about meanness than kindness. I think that they think it’s okay to be about meanness as long as they worship God or Jesus or whoever. I think they’re woefully misguided.
One of my favorite quotes of all time is by St. Irenaeus. St. Irenaeus says, “The glory of God is a human being fully alive.” I think one way to be fully alive is to be open-minded, to respect all people’s religious or non-religious journey. To be in a place that sees religion as cooperative, not competitive. We’re not talking about a rivalry between Michigan and Michigan State. We’re talking about our brothers and sisters, children of God, all on a path to God or the Divine or Love.
Here you are, sitting in the first service of Interfaith Congregation. Why? How did your spiritual journey lead you here today? And how does all this interfaith stuff apply to your life? Do you see yourself as part of a Divine Mosaic? Do you see yourself as a star in a heavenly constellation? Do you see yourself as a grain of sand on a sacred beach?
I want to encourage you to see this as the first step (or the 400th step) in your interfaith spiritual journey. Engage in conversation with people of other faiths. What do you have in common? Where do you differ? Invite them to come here if you’d like. Maybe they can take part in an interfaith discussion. Because, let’s be honest, we can’t keep doing what we’ve been doing, where different religions, heck, even different denominations within Christianity, can’t get along. That’s crazy. And dangerous. It can lead to conflicts, terror and even war. We can’t afford to have that anymore.
Earlier I said I didn’t know what to say back when I was in the third grade and a classmate of mine felt excluded from a Christmas party because she was Jewish. But I know what to say now. It wasn’t right for my public school to have a party that made my classmate feel excluded. (The Supreme Court would eventually agree with me.) I wouldn’t belong to any club that excluded Jews or Muslims or Hindus or Buddhists or any other religious group. But I did belong to such a club. It’s a club called the Christian church. And while I know in a lot of ways I’m comparing apples and oranges, am I really? I didn’t feel right back then being part of an exclusive group. And I don’t want to be part of an exclusive group now. That’s why I’ve started Interfaith Congregation. Perhaps it’s ironic (or maybe providential) that the seed for Interfaith Congregation was planted in a little boy at a third-grade party to celebrate Christmas. But then again, isn’t that what they say Christmas is all about? The phrase isn’t: Peace on earth, good will toward some. The phrase is: Peace on earth, good will toward all.
Fast forward to a few years ago. I’m a minister living in a parsonage in a small town. On one side of the parsonage was the church and on the other side of the parsonage was a public school. I was invited by the school to come to their Thanksgiving lunch, the day before Thanksgiving. Great! Before we ate, a school official turns to me and says, “Pastor would you like to say a prayer?” And I’m thinking: No, I would not like to say a prayer; not in a public school; I’m a card-carrying member of the ACLU for crying out loud. Why would I want to say a prayer? But what was I going to do? So I said, “Let us bow our heads. We give thanks for this food and we give thanks for the hands that prepared it. Amen.” Now, I never mentioned God and I certainly never mentioned Jesus. I hoped that would pass muster with the ACLU (if not with God and Jesus). I think I’ve always wanted to include everyone.
I went to high school in Germany. (Not because I was smart, but because my father was a civilian in the military.) We went to church on an Air Force base. At the end of a road, the Protestant church was on one side of the street and the Catholic church was on the other. One day, I’m sitting in the Protestant church and a guy comes in, goes up to about the 5th row, drops down on one knee, crosses himself and sits down. About 30 seconds later he realizes he’s in the Protestant church and not the Catholic church and he quietly leaves. Then, many years later, I would wonder what we can do to bring Protestant and Catholics and all Christians, as well as Buddhists and Hindus and all faiths together. Maybe I’ve believed that since I felt called to the ministry.
I felt called to the ministry on my birthday in 2001. My birthday is 9-11. After seeing those planes crash into the World Trade Center, the Pentagon and a field in Pennsylvania, I decided to pursue a path to pastoring, to one day preach love in a sometimes hateful world. I think even then I had hopes of bringing people together.
Then I went to seminary, Western Theological Seminary here in Holland. I took a sacraments class, where we learned about Communion and Baptism. One night, I called my Mom and said, “Have I ever been baptized?” She said, “Well, when you were a kid, we went to a church that didn’t believe in infant baptism. So, unless you were baptized as an adult, no, you’ve never been baptized.” So I went to my teaching church, where I was doing an internship and I said to my teaching church pastor, “I don’t think I’ve ever been baptized. If I’m going to be a Christian minister, I suppose I should be baptized.” He said, “Well, duh,” or something like that. So that Sunday we scheduled my baptism. I woke up that Sunday morning, looked at the calendar and said, “Oh my goodness. It’s December 7th, Pearl Harbor Day.” The church wanted me to say something before I was baptized. I said that I hoped my birthday, 9-11, and my baptism day, December 7th, would mean that my ministry would be about justice and peace. Again, I think even then I had hopes of bringing people of all faiths together.
Then this past October, I wrote a column for the Holland Sentinel about a vision I had of bringing all people of faith together. The column came out on a Saturday. I read it when it appeared and said to myself, “Okay, Willy, what are you going to do to bring all people of faith together?” I didn’t know. The next day, I preached about it and said: What are we going to do about it? We should start an interfaith group or something. That afternoon, I went to the home of some Baha’is. They said: Nice column yesterday. I said: Thanks, but what can we do about it? They said: Well, after 9-11, we had an interfaith group for a while, but then it fizzled out. I said: Let’s start it again and I invited people over to our house that week. We’ve been meeting every week since. The Sunday that I preached about interfaith togetherness and we planned our first meeting was October 25, 2009, Reformation Sunday, the day protestants celebrate Martin Luther deciding that the church needed to reform. I feel the same way. Now, I hope that those three dates: my birthday, 9-11, my baptism day, December 7th, and now the day I preached about interfaith togetherness, Reformation Sunday, mean that my ministry will be devoted to justice and peace and being welcoming to all people of faith. I think Jesus felt the same way. Eventually.
Jesus is approached by a Canaanite woman, a Gentile, a non-Jew. She wants him to cure her daughter. Jesus tells her, "I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel." But she pleads with him, "Lord, help me." He answers her, "It is not fair to take the children's food and throw it to the dogs." She says, "Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters' table." Then Jesus tells her, "Woman, great is your faith!” And her daughter is healed. Christian preachers go through all kinds of contortions trying to explain away what seems to be a fairly heartless indifference from Jesus to the woman’s plea for help. "Oh, he didn’t really compare her to a dog; it was more like a puppy." Oh, that’s much better. I think what happened that day was that that woman helped Jesus to realize his message wasn’t just for one group of people; his message was for all people. I think that day Jesus became an interfaith minister.
You can find other examples of interfaith ideas in the Bible. The Psalmist says, “Praise the Lord, all you nations! Extol God, all you peoples! For great is God’s steadfast love toward us, and the faithfulness of the Lord endures forever. Praise the Lord!” The Psalmist doesn’t say: For great is God’s steadfast love toward some of us. He says: For great is God’s steadfast love toward us. All of us. Each and everyone of us. Jews and Gentiles. Everybody.
Martin Luther King, Jr. spoke about interfaith ideas, too. In his “I have a Dream” speech in Washington, DC, in 1963, Dr. King said, “I have a dream…when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands.” I have that same dream. So did Gandhi.
Gandhi says, “I am a Muslim and a Hindu and a Christian and a Jew.” That’s how I feel, too. I am a Christian and a Jew and a Muslim and a Hindu and a Buddhist and a Baha’i and a Unitarian Universalist and an agnostic and an atheist. I am one with every one. We are all one.
The Dalai Lama, a Buddhist, says, “My religion is simple. My religion is kindness.” If only all religions were about kindness. Too many religious people, unfortunately including many Christians, seem to be more about meanness than kindness. I think that they think it’s okay to be about meanness as long as they worship God or Jesus or whoever. I think they’re woefully misguided.
One of my favorite quotes of all time is by St. Irenaeus. St. Irenaeus says, “The glory of God is a human being fully alive.” I think one way to be fully alive is to be open-minded, to respect all people’s religious or non-religious journey. To be in a place that sees religion as cooperative, not competitive. We’re not talking about a rivalry between Michigan and Michigan State. We’re talking about our brothers and sisters, children of God, all on a path to God or the Divine or Love.
Here you are, sitting in the first service of Interfaith Congregation. Why? How did your spiritual journey lead you here today? And how does all this interfaith stuff apply to your life? Do you see yourself as part of a Divine Mosaic? Do you see yourself as a star in a heavenly constellation? Do you see yourself as a grain of sand on a sacred beach?
I want to encourage you to see this as the first step (or the 400th step) in your interfaith spiritual journey. Engage in conversation with people of other faiths. What do you have in common? Where do you differ? Invite them to come here if you’d like. Maybe they can take part in an interfaith discussion. Because, let’s be honest, we can’t keep doing what we’ve been doing, where different religions, heck, even different denominations within Christianity, can’t get along. That’s crazy. And dangerous. It can lead to conflicts, terror and even war. We can’t afford to have that anymore.
Earlier I said I didn’t know what to say back when I was in the third grade and a classmate of mine felt excluded from a Christmas party because she was Jewish. But I know what to say now. It wasn’t right for my public school to have a party that made my classmate feel excluded. (The Supreme Court would eventually agree with me.) I wouldn’t belong to any club that excluded Jews or Muslims or Hindus or Buddhists or any other religious group. But I did belong to such a club. It’s a club called the Christian church. And while I know in a lot of ways I’m comparing apples and oranges, am I really? I didn’t feel right back then being part of an exclusive group. And I don’t want to be part of an exclusive group now. That’s why I’ve started Interfaith Congregation. Perhaps it’s ironic (or maybe providential) that the seed for Interfaith Congregation was planted in a little boy at a third-grade party to celebrate Christmas. But then again, isn’t that what they say Christmas is all about? The phrase isn’t: Peace on earth, good will toward some. The phrase is: Peace on earth, good will toward all.
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