I heard a standup comic once commenting on those “Baby On Board” signs. (I just saw one of those signs the other day.) The comic said, “What’s the purpose of those signs? If my car’s careening out of control and I see one of those signs on the car I’m about to crash into, am I supposed to say, “Oh, I can’t hit that car. I better smash into this van full of nuns!”
I always look upon those “Baby On Board” signs as something like a birth announcement: Hey everybody! I’ve just had a baby! And I’m so happy! I want you to share in my joy!
There used to be a bumper sticker that was very popular years ago: Have you hugged your child today?
My question is: Have you hugged your (inner) child today? Psychologists tell us that your inner child can mean one of two things. On the one hand, your inner child is your playful side. So hugging your inner child is embracing your child-like qualities. On the other hand, hugging your inner child is when you look back on the child you were many years ago and you hug that child, particularly if you had a traumatic childhood and that child needs to be hugged and healed.
I overheard a young teenage girl the other day at JP’s coffee house. She told her friends that her mom used to call her a brat, but now her mom refers to her as a different B-word, a B-word that rhymes with witch. My jaw dropped. Yikes!
Now, maybe her mom was just “kidding around” – we can only hope. But who says that about their own teenage daughter, even in jest? In 10 years, when that girl is walking on South Division in Grand Rapids, looking for “customers,” I wonder if mom will have “absolutely no idea” what made her daughter do that. (Hopefully, that’s not where that girl will end up.)
I read a book a few months ago called, “Severe Attachment Disorder in Childhood,” by Niels Peter Rygaard. According to the book, Severe Attachment Disorder, or SAD, affects perhaps 1 in 20 children. It’s seen in Russian children raised in orphanages, who aren’t touched much at all, but it’s also seen in children in America who lack a loving touch, appropriate affection and encouraging words from their parents. SAD can result in personality disorder, addiction, depression, suicide and other problems.
Hopefully, one day all parents will understand the importance of hugging their children. And all children will be hugged. Failing that, or in addition to that, perhaps we all have to take it upon ourselves to hug our own inner child, our own hurt side, but also our own playful side. Jesus seemed to understand something like that.
“At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, ‘Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?’ Jesus called a child, whom he put among them, and said, ‘Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.’”
In that passage, Matthew 18:1-3, I don’t think Jesus is talking just about heaven in the hereafter; I think Jesus is talking about heaven in the here-and-now. Jesus seems to be encouraging people to be more child-like: innocent, playful perhaps, full of wonder maybe. Jesus appears to be telling us not to take ourselves too seriously; to enjoy life; to have a little fun. That’s the way to reach heaven on earth. Now compare Jesus’ words with those of the Apostle Paul in 1 Corinthians 13:11.
“When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways.”
What a contrast! Jesus is saying, “Become like children.” Paul is saying, “Put an end to childish ways.” (I think that, in a nutshell, is why I like Jesus a little more than I like Paul: Jesus is more playful; Paul is too serious.) Now, don’t get me wrong; many of Paul’s writings are profound. 1 Corinthians 13:1 is simply amazing. “If I speak in the tongues of humans and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal.” Paul understands love, but I’m not sure he understands children as much as Jesus did; or that Paul understands our own need or necessity to be playful, to be childlike, to not completely grow up. In a similar way, Jim Trelease understands that, too.
Jim Trelease wrote several books about the importance of reading aloud to children. Jim Trelease says, “The prime purpose of being four is to enjoy being four - of secondary importance is to prepare for being five.”
I would amend what Jim Trelease is saying just a little bit. I would say that the prime purpose of being any age is to enjoy being that age – whether you’re 4, 24, 44, 64, 84 or 104. What Jim Trelease is saying, though, is let children be children. Don’t look upon children as little adults. Let them enjoy childhood. Help them enjoy childhood. Who knows, maybe it will even help us to enjoy our (hopefully) never-ending childhood.
The other day I saw live TV coverage of Barack Obama giving the commencement address at the graduation ceremony of Kalamazoo Central High School students. It was an historic event. It’s the first time a president has ever given a commencement address at a high school. President Obama told the students, “Together as a community, you’ve embraced the motto of this school district: ‘Every child, every opportunity, every time,’ because you believe, like I do, that every child – regardless of what they look like, where they come from, or how much money their parents have – every child who walks through your schoolhouse doors deserves a quality education.“ I liked his speech, but I liked what happened after his speech even more.
I noticed that several students, after they received their diploma, when they got the opportunity to shake hands with the president, that many of them did, but some of them did not. Instead they gave him a hug. It was interesting to see how much closer a hug seemed to bring the president and the students than just a handshake. Touching someone is more meaningful to them. At least with most people.
Many years ago, I worked for Channel 8 news in Grand Rapids, the NBC affiliate. At that time, “St. Elsewhere” was a popular drama on NBC. One of the stars of that show was Howie Mandel. One day, Howie Mandel visited our station. One of our news producers shouted, “Howie Mandel is in our newsroom!” More recently, Howie Mandel was the host of “Deal or No Deal” and a judge on “America’s Got Talent.” I saw him a month ago being a judge on “Marriage Ref.” A couple of his fellow judges touched him, as a joke, because apparently he hates being touched.
Howie Mandel is what’s called a germaphobe. He doesn’t want to be touched for fear of coming into contact with germs. He hates it when people touch him. I had a seminary classmate like that.
She wasn’t a germaphobe, she just didn’t like being touched. In seminary, during chapel, she didn’t want to take part in the passing of the peace. She didn’t want to shake hands; she certainly didn’t want to be hugged. At least not back then.
At our recent 5-year reunion, she was there. I said “Hi” to her, but hesitated even shaking hands with her, because I knew she didn’t like to be touched. She chuckled and told me she’s been a pastor for 5 years (where shaking hands, hugging and being hugged is almost a job requirement), so now she said hugging is okay with her. So I joyfully hugged her.
I interned at a church once where the pastor told me that they don’t do a passing of the peace, because many of the people there didn’t want to even acknowledge the existence of the person sitting next to them, let alone shake hands with them or – God forbid – hug them.
I call churches like that Elliott Ness churches, because they’re filled with: The Untouchables. I never want Interfaith Congregation to become like that; that’s why we do a passing of the peace. I never thought of this before, but maybe we also do it because in these days of Facebook “friends,” where you communicate with many people, but rarely if ever come in contact with them, we’re in need of human touch. Maybe we don’t need to just hug our own inner child, maybe we need to hug the inner child of the people sitting next to us.
During this past school year, I read to my wife’s grandsons’ Kindergarten and 2nd Grade classes, or they read to me. I’m called Opa, which I think means grandpa in Dutch. A month or so ago, after school, we picked up her grandsons. As we were walking up to the school, all the students were outside. I kept hearing, “It’s Opa!” “There’s Opa!” “Hi Opa!” That was neat. On the last day that I visited their classes a couple weeks ago, I had all the kids give me a group hug, which turned into individual hugs. That was neat too.
I got to thinking. It seems to me that the job of parents, grandparents and great-grandparents, the job of schools, the job of churches and the job of each one of us is surprisingly similar. The job of parents, grandparents and great-grandparents is to nurture their children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren in body, mind and spirit. (If body, mind and spirit sounds a little too new-agey for you, then how about: physically, mentally and emotionally.) The job of schools is to nurture students in body, mind and spirit. The job of churches is to nurture people – inside and outside their walls, as much as possible - in body, mind and spirit. The job of each one of us is to nurture others (to the extent that we can) and to nurture ourselves in body, mind and spirit. Perhaps the easiest way to begin doing that (respecting people’s boundaries, of course) is by giving them - and ourselves – a hug. Have you hugged somebody today? Have you hugged your (inner) child today? If so, will you do it again tomorrow and the next day and the next?
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Christianity, Judaism, Buddhism, Etc., Are Verbs
A couple of weeks ago I was at Skiles downtown, enjoying pizza with a friend and I noticed over his shoulder a TV screen. The sound was off, but the picture was there. They were showing a “sporting event.” I use that term loosely. I think it was called extreme fighting or ultimate fighting, something like that. It was basically just two guys kicking and hitting each other. They were whaling on each other. Until they ran out of energy and then they were just sort of flailing their arms and eventually one of them was declared the winner. When he was declared the winner, he pointed up to heaven and did a little dance, I’m assuming to thank God for his wonderful victory. Now I’m not sure what that guy’s concept of God is, heck I’m not even sure what my concept of God is, but at that moment my idea of God was: As that guy was pointing up to heaven, apparently giving God credit, God was looking down and saying, “Ummm, no thanks, buddy; I don’t want the credit for that.”
When I was in seminary a few years ago, I learned a new idea, well I learned several new ideas, but one in particular. It was the doctrine I’ll call “You don’t get the credit; you just get the blame.” It goes something like this: If you do something right, then that’s not really you doing that, that’s God working through you or the Spirit working through you or Jesus working through you or something; it’s not you. But, if you do something wrong, then that’s all you, buddy, that’s your fault. That didn’t make any sense to me. I can understand saying, “If you do something right, then that’s not really you, that’s God or the Spirit working through you.” I’ve had times, believe it or not, when I’ve done things, like write a sermon and I’d get to the end of it and read through it and think: my goodness, I didn’t have any idea that this was what this was going to end up as; it’s better than I could have imagined. It felt like it wasn’t me doing that, it was the Spirit or God, or the Source or whatever you want to call it, working through me. So I can go along with that. But why doesn’t it go the other way? If you do something wrong, why not say: that’s not your fault, that was the devil or the evil spirits or whatever working through you. But that’s not how the doctrine of “You get all the blame, but none of the credit” works. I just don’t think that’s right.
Also, when I first started going to Western Theological Seminary, apparently my reputation preceded me, because one of the professors that I met immediately called me the “high priest of heresy.” I think he meant it jokingly, but I thought, “I’m not that heretical, am I?” I’m in the mainstream of at least liberal theology. Come to think of it, that was probably why I was called the “high priest of heresy.” I wasn’t orthodox enough. Now “orthodoxy,” as you probably know, means “right belief,” believing the things the church or the religious tradition says to believe. “Orthopraxy” means “right action.” I think it means doing justice and loving kindness and acting compassionately.
I’m reading a book, “God Is Not One.” It’s by Stephen Prothero, who is a religion professor at Boston University. The basic premise of his book is that everybody says, “God is one” and “we’re all one big happy family” and all that, but how can that be if the major religions of the world are so different? How can you reconcile Buddhism, that doesn’t believe in a god and Hinduism that believes in many gods? In that book, he talks about orthodoxy and orthopraxy, but what he is talking about is “right belief,” the doctrine and dogma of religions and about the rituals and routines of religion, like lighting a candle during the service. He doesn’t talk much at all about what I consider orthopraxy, which is doing justice, loving kindness, acting compassionately. I think religion without justice is impotent.
Jesus goes to the temple, sits down and begins teaching, while the people gather around him. Up walk several men and they bring a woman with them. They tell Jesus that this woman has committed adultery. They caught her in the act of adultery. They say to Jesus. “What should we do? Because Moses says she should be stoned to death. What say you, Jesus?” They did this, according to the story in the Bible, to test him, to see if he would say, “Yes, Moses was correct, stone her.” But he writes on the ground, scribbling in the dirt, basically ignoring them. But they keep pestering him saying, “What should we do?” He looks up and says, “Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.” Then he goes back to writing in the dirt. He looks up again and they’ve all dispersed; all but the woman. He says to her, “What happened to them?” She says, “They left.” Jesus says, “Well they did not condemn you, neither do I; go and sin no more.”
Jesus, I think many Christians would assume, was the first Christian. Let’s go with that, probably all of us here know he was Jewish, but for this story let’s say Jesus was the first Christian. It seems to me that Jesus was a Christian who didn’t just believe things … he was not just a noun “Christian,” he was a verb “Christian.” He took action. He saved the life of this adulterous woman. He shamed the men who brought her to him.
Many of us probably know the story of Moses from the Hebrew scriptures or from Charlton Heston’s portrayal of him in the movie, “The Ten Commandments.” One of the stories of Moses is that he led the Jews out of Egypt. He went to Pharoah and said, “Let my people go!” And Pharoah eventually said, “Okay.” And so they went. Assuming that story is true, Moses was a Jew who believed things, but he also did things. He was a noun “Jew,” but he was also a verb “Jew.” He took action. He led the Jewish people out of slavery to freedom.
The Dalai Lama has written many books. I think my favorite book that the Dalai Lama has written is “The Four Noble Truths.” If you haven’t read that book and you get the chance, I would highly recommend it. It explains, I think very well, suffering, and talks about how it can be alleviated from others and ourselves by acting compassionately toward others and toward ourselves. The Dalai Lama is a Buddhist. He believes things, but he also does things. He’s not just a noun “Buddhist,” he’s a verb “Buddhist.” He takes action. He writes a book that some of us find helpful.
Varion Fry lived in France. He was a frail man, an intellectual, not religious. He was apparently a humanist. You might not expect that Varian Fry would have stood up to the Gestapo, but he did. He helped 1500 people escape from Nazi occupied France in 1940 and ‘41. Varian Fry was a humanist who did things, he didn’t just believe things (or not believe things). He was a noun “humanist,” but he was also a verb “humanist.” He took action. He helped 1500 people escape from Nazi occupied France.
At this point in the sermon, I was going to quote the beginning of the Hippocratic Oath, the oath that doctors take, that says, “First do no harm.” But I looked it up online and it’s a common misconception that the Hippocratic Oath begins, “First do no harm.” That’s not true. In spite of that, I would still say that religious people who want to be verb religious people and not just noun religious people, should first do no harm.
The first church I pastored was a small church in a small town. The first summer I was there, the only summer I was there, I put together a little flier, not unlike the flier we have on our back table. It was about what I saw that church as or what I wanted that church to be, I think. I knocked on a hundred doors in that little town, and handed out fliers to a hundred people, or stuck fliers between the door handle and the doorframe. A week or two later, no one had come to church as a result. Then one Sunday, I saw a new person sitting in church. She was about five rows back. So, about ten minutes into the service, during our passing of the peace, I walked up to her and I said, “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.” She said, “No, this is the first time I’ve come here.” I said, “Oh, great.” She said, “I came because of the flier you left at my door.” I said, “Oh, wonderful,” She said, “But I won’t be back.” What? She said, “I don’t feel welcome here.” How could that be? She walked maybe 5 steps into the building, up some stairs and then ten more steps into the sanctuary and sat down. She was there for 10 minutes. Yet she didn’t feel welcome. Now I know why she didn’t feel welcome. She wasn’t one of the family or friends of the powers that be. They made her feel unwelcome. Immediately. I look back on that and I think: That wasn’t really a church; that was a social club. That was a place that just cared about the people inside the four walls. They didn’t care about opening the doors of the church and welcoming new people in. But I opened the doors and welcomed new people in (or at least one new person in) and they didn’t like that at all, because that’s not who they were. Anytime a church only cares about the people inside the four walls, and doesn’t care about welcoming people in or helping people who don’t go there, it isn’t a church, it’s a social club.
If Interfaith Congregation is only about going to Denny’s after the service, or having a potluck on Wednesday night, or going bowling or playing miniature golf, then we wouldn’t be a church or a house of worship, we’d be a social club. We become a church or a religious institution or a house of worship when we feed the poor on Saturday morning, when a couple of us walk for peace in downtown Holland on Thursday afternoon, when some of us go to the city council and ask the council to pass an anti-discrimination ordinance in Holland to protect gays and lesbians and bisexual and transgender people. That’s when this place becomes a religious institution or a house of worship and not just a social club. If it were just a social club, I wouldn’t want to be here.
My daughter graduated from high school the other day. They had a wonderful graduation ceremony, held at Fountain Street Church in downtown Grand Rapids. The commencement speaker was a guy from Africa, about 30 years old, who when he was 13 was forced into the military; he was forced to kill or be killed. Thankfully he escaped from that and fled to the United States and now works for the United Nations. He told the students that they could overcome any obstacle, if he could escape from that situation. He concluded his remarks by reading the poem “Invictus,” by William Ernest Henley. The poem concludes with these two lines. “I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul.” Each one of us, regardless of the faith tradition we come from, is responsible for our own actions, for doing justice and loving kindness and acting compassionately, because each and every one of us is the master of our fate, each and every one of us is the captain of our soul.
When I was in seminary a few years ago, I learned a new idea, well I learned several new ideas, but one in particular. It was the doctrine I’ll call “You don’t get the credit; you just get the blame.” It goes something like this: If you do something right, then that’s not really you doing that, that’s God working through you or the Spirit working through you or Jesus working through you or something; it’s not you. But, if you do something wrong, then that’s all you, buddy, that’s your fault. That didn’t make any sense to me. I can understand saying, “If you do something right, then that’s not really you, that’s God or the Spirit working through you.” I’ve had times, believe it or not, when I’ve done things, like write a sermon and I’d get to the end of it and read through it and think: my goodness, I didn’t have any idea that this was what this was going to end up as; it’s better than I could have imagined. It felt like it wasn’t me doing that, it was the Spirit or God, or the Source or whatever you want to call it, working through me. So I can go along with that. But why doesn’t it go the other way? If you do something wrong, why not say: that’s not your fault, that was the devil or the evil spirits or whatever working through you. But that’s not how the doctrine of “You get all the blame, but none of the credit” works. I just don’t think that’s right.
Also, when I first started going to Western Theological Seminary, apparently my reputation preceded me, because one of the professors that I met immediately called me the “high priest of heresy.” I think he meant it jokingly, but I thought, “I’m not that heretical, am I?” I’m in the mainstream of at least liberal theology. Come to think of it, that was probably why I was called the “high priest of heresy.” I wasn’t orthodox enough. Now “orthodoxy,” as you probably know, means “right belief,” believing the things the church or the religious tradition says to believe. “Orthopraxy” means “right action.” I think it means doing justice and loving kindness and acting compassionately.
I’m reading a book, “God Is Not One.” It’s by Stephen Prothero, who is a religion professor at Boston University. The basic premise of his book is that everybody says, “God is one” and “we’re all one big happy family” and all that, but how can that be if the major religions of the world are so different? How can you reconcile Buddhism, that doesn’t believe in a god and Hinduism that believes in many gods? In that book, he talks about orthodoxy and orthopraxy, but what he is talking about is “right belief,” the doctrine and dogma of religions and about the rituals and routines of religion, like lighting a candle during the service. He doesn’t talk much at all about what I consider orthopraxy, which is doing justice, loving kindness, acting compassionately. I think religion without justice is impotent.
Jesus goes to the temple, sits down and begins teaching, while the people gather around him. Up walk several men and they bring a woman with them. They tell Jesus that this woman has committed adultery. They caught her in the act of adultery. They say to Jesus. “What should we do? Because Moses says she should be stoned to death. What say you, Jesus?” They did this, according to the story in the Bible, to test him, to see if he would say, “Yes, Moses was correct, stone her.” But he writes on the ground, scribbling in the dirt, basically ignoring them. But they keep pestering him saying, “What should we do?” He looks up and says, “Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.” Then he goes back to writing in the dirt. He looks up again and they’ve all dispersed; all but the woman. He says to her, “What happened to them?” She says, “They left.” Jesus says, “Well they did not condemn you, neither do I; go and sin no more.”
Jesus, I think many Christians would assume, was the first Christian. Let’s go with that, probably all of us here know he was Jewish, but for this story let’s say Jesus was the first Christian. It seems to me that Jesus was a Christian who didn’t just believe things … he was not just a noun “Christian,” he was a verb “Christian.” He took action. He saved the life of this adulterous woman. He shamed the men who brought her to him.
Many of us probably know the story of Moses from the Hebrew scriptures or from Charlton Heston’s portrayal of him in the movie, “The Ten Commandments.” One of the stories of Moses is that he led the Jews out of Egypt. He went to Pharoah and said, “Let my people go!” And Pharoah eventually said, “Okay.” And so they went. Assuming that story is true, Moses was a Jew who believed things, but he also did things. He was a noun “Jew,” but he was also a verb “Jew.” He took action. He led the Jewish people out of slavery to freedom.
The Dalai Lama has written many books. I think my favorite book that the Dalai Lama has written is “The Four Noble Truths.” If you haven’t read that book and you get the chance, I would highly recommend it. It explains, I think very well, suffering, and talks about how it can be alleviated from others and ourselves by acting compassionately toward others and toward ourselves. The Dalai Lama is a Buddhist. He believes things, but he also does things. He’s not just a noun “Buddhist,” he’s a verb “Buddhist.” He takes action. He writes a book that some of us find helpful.
Varion Fry lived in France. He was a frail man, an intellectual, not religious. He was apparently a humanist. You might not expect that Varian Fry would have stood up to the Gestapo, but he did. He helped 1500 people escape from Nazi occupied France in 1940 and ‘41. Varian Fry was a humanist who did things, he didn’t just believe things (or not believe things). He was a noun “humanist,” but he was also a verb “humanist.” He took action. He helped 1500 people escape from Nazi occupied France.
At this point in the sermon, I was going to quote the beginning of the Hippocratic Oath, the oath that doctors take, that says, “First do no harm.” But I looked it up online and it’s a common misconception that the Hippocratic Oath begins, “First do no harm.” That’s not true. In spite of that, I would still say that religious people who want to be verb religious people and not just noun religious people, should first do no harm.
The first church I pastored was a small church in a small town. The first summer I was there, the only summer I was there, I put together a little flier, not unlike the flier we have on our back table. It was about what I saw that church as or what I wanted that church to be, I think. I knocked on a hundred doors in that little town, and handed out fliers to a hundred people, or stuck fliers between the door handle and the doorframe. A week or two later, no one had come to church as a result. Then one Sunday, I saw a new person sitting in church. She was about five rows back. So, about ten minutes into the service, during our passing of the peace, I walked up to her and I said, “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.” She said, “No, this is the first time I’ve come here.” I said, “Oh, great.” She said, “I came because of the flier you left at my door.” I said, “Oh, wonderful,” She said, “But I won’t be back.” What? She said, “I don’t feel welcome here.” How could that be? She walked maybe 5 steps into the building, up some stairs and then ten more steps into the sanctuary and sat down. She was there for 10 minutes. Yet she didn’t feel welcome. Now I know why she didn’t feel welcome. She wasn’t one of the family or friends of the powers that be. They made her feel unwelcome. Immediately. I look back on that and I think: That wasn’t really a church; that was a social club. That was a place that just cared about the people inside the four walls. They didn’t care about opening the doors of the church and welcoming new people in. But I opened the doors and welcomed new people in (or at least one new person in) and they didn’t like that at all, because that’s not who they were. Anytime a church only cares about the people inside the four walls, and doesn’t care about welcoming people in or helping people who don’t go there, it isn’t a church, it’s a social club.
If Interfaith Congregation is only about going to Denny’s after the service, or having a potluck on Wednesday night, or going bowling or playing miniature golf, then we wouldn’t be a church or a house of worship, we’d be a social club. We become a church or a religious institution or a house of worship when we feed the poor on Saturday morning, when a couple of us walk for peace in downtown Holland on Thursday afternoon, when some of us go to the city council and ask the council to pass an anti-discrimination ordinance in Holland to protect gays and lesbians and bisexual and transgender people. That’s when this place becomes a religious institution or a house of worship and not just a social club. If it were just a social club, I wouldn’t want to be here.
My daughter graduated from high school the other day. They had a wonderful graduation ceremony, held at Fountain Street Church in downtown Grand Rapids. The commencement speaker was a guy from Africa, about 30 years old, who when he was 13 was forced into the military; he was forced to kill or be killed. Thankfully he escaped from that and fled to the United States and now works for the United Nations. He told the students that they could overcome any obstacle, if he could escape from that situation. He concluded his remarks by reading the poem “Invictus,” by William Ernest Henley. The poem concludes with these two lines. “I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul.” Each one of us, regardless of the faith tradition we come from, is responsible for our own actions, for doing justice and loving kindness and acting compassionately, because each and every one of us is the master of our fate, each and every one of us is the captain of our soul.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
The Forgiveness Of Conan
Many years ago, I was a feature reporter for a local TV news program. One day I was doing a story about a guy who was repairing the ceiling of a big Catholic church. We’ll call him John Smith. John Smith was on this rickety old platform, several stories up, repairing the ceiling. I tell you that story to tell you this story. A couple weeks ago I was at the Holland Tulip Time Festival, eating dinner that I bought at one of the vendors; something healthy, like a big old bratwurst sandwich with all the trimmings. A guy comes up to me and says, “Are you Bill Freeman?” Now, I hesitated to answer that, because sometimes I take controversial stands, preach about controversial topics, so I took a quick glance at his hands. He wasn’t carrying a gun or a knife, so I slowly said, “Yes.” He said, “Well I’m John Smith. You did a story about me years ago, repairing the ceiling of a Catholic church.” He said, “You began the story by saying ‘John Smith gets high at work.’” I said, “I’m sorry.” He said, “No, that was fine; I loved it!” Still, I felt like I should seek forgiveness from the god of bad puns.
What does it mean to forgive? How often do we forgive? How often don’t we forgive? When do we or don’t we forgive? I want to talk with you about forgiveness. Human to human forgiveness; not divine forgiveness of humans (for being – what? – human?). I want to talk with you about forgiveness, of others and of ourselves.
On Friday mornings some of you may know I co-host a radio show with Fred Wooden from Fountain Street Church in Grand Rapids. The program is called, “Faith and Reason.” It’s on from 10 till Noon. This past Friday, Fred was all upset. He was angry because Grand Rapids city workers had torn up the street in front of his house to work on some water pipes. Since the water to his house was shutoff, he couldn’t take a shower before he came to the radio station, which would be fine, but he had a funeral to do at 1 o’clock. So he had to leave the radio show early, to go home and take a shower before the funeral, and he was angry about that. He wasn’t sure who to be angry at. He thought the city workers, who put out signs the day before, saying, “No Parking,” could have put notes on people’s doors telling them there water would be shutoff. But he wasn’t sure who to be angry at. He was just angry.
I think the first step toward not forgiving is anger. I think unforgiveness takes three steps: anger and then hatred and then unforgiveness.
Tony Campolo is an evangelical Christian, a preacher, a retired sociology professor at Eastern University in Philadelphia. He spoke this past week in Holland at the Summit on Racism at Hope College. He told of a time years ago when he got two groups together, Buddhists and Christians. He divided them up into theologians and mystics. He put the Buddhist and Christian theologians in one group and the Buddhist and Christian mystics in another group, for four days. At the end of that time, the Christian and Buddhist theologians were arguing with each other, as they had the whole time they were together. “We believe this.” “You believe that! How could you believe that!?” They hated each other. The mystics, who prayed and meditated together for four days, loved each other. They hated to see each other go. Perhaps the moral of the story is that when two or more faith traditions get together, they shouldn’t talk about theology, they should just pray and meditate.
I think the Christian and Buddhist theological types went through the three stages of unforgiveness. There seemed to be some anger between the two groups; perhaps also some hatred; and finally, maybe they even reached the point of unforgiveness. That’s not a good thing. Conan O’Brian seems to know this.
Conan O’Brian was promoted to host The Tonight Show. Jay Leno was promoted to his own prime time program. But the ratings for The Jay Leno Show weren’t very good and the ratings for The Tonight Show with Conan O’Brian weren’t very good, so NBC came up with a compromise. They would pull Jay Leno off the prime time schedule and put him at 11:35 and they would put Conan O’Brian at 12:05. But Conan didn’t want to do The Tonight Show…tomorrow, so he left NBC and he was forbidden from talking about leaving until a couple of weeks ago when he was on 60 Minutes. He talked about his feelings towards Jay Leno and NBC. Surprisingly he said, “You’re going to think this is crazy, but I wish them well.” In other words he, in some form or fashion, forgave the folks at NBC. Now maybe the fact that he walked away with 32 million dollars helped his forgiveness. There is that possibility. But I think he also knew about the importance of forgiveness, something that religious leaders have preached about for millennia.
Peter asked Jesus, “Lord, how many times must we forgive? Seven times?” Jesus said, “Seventy-seven times,” or depending on the translation, “Seventy times seven,” which, if my math is correct, is 490 times. Now who can blame Peter for asking the question of Jesus? You’ve got Jesus there. Perhaps you have somebody you have a hard time forgiving. So why not ask Jesus how many times you have to forgive this person? Perhaps he was thinking that Jesus would say, “Well, I said, ‘Turn the other cheek,’ but you only do that once, so you only have to forgive one time.” So maybe Peter thought he was being generous by suggesting seven times. Jesus instead said 490 times. Always and forever essentially, we must forgive. Maybe forgiving somebody is good for us.
The Dalai Lama says, “One’s enemy is the best teacher.” I think that’s true. Now, granted, I could have used fewer teachers over the years, but maybe the Dalai Lama has a point. At the very least, our enemy, if we do it right, will teach us to forgive, if we follow the precepts of Jesus, the Dalai Lama, and others.
Ram Dass, who used to be known as Richard Alpert, was a professor at Harvard, but then he got into Buddhism and Hinduism and became Ram Dass. Many years ago he wrote a book, “Be Here Now.” A very simple title, a very easy to understand point. How can you “be” anyplace other than right here, right now? And yet, when we refuse to forgive, we’re living in some previous time. When we’re not forgiving somebody, we’re living in the past, living in anger. The only way to “be here now” is to forgive back then.
Erich Segal wrote a very popular book a few years ago entitled, “Love Story.” The tag line from “Love Story,” the movie and the book, was, “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.” I don’t think that’s true. I think love means always having to say you’re sorry. At least, that’s what I have to do in my marriage. “Sorry, honey, I forgot to mow the lawn.” “Sorry, honey, I ate the rest of the chocolate ice cream.” I think love means always having to say you’re sorry, whenever you do something wrong and hope to be forgiven.
I remember two things from my tenth grade art class. One, our art teacher was rather pretty. Two, she had a painting on the wall of two people sinking in quicksand. You could see that there were some vines or something they could grab onto. Instead, they were each clutching clubs, and they were beating each other as they were sinking in the quicksand. How angry must we be with somebody, how much hatred must we have for somebody, how much unforgiveness must be in our heart, not to be able to save ourself at the very least? And to keep beating your opponent to death, literally, as he continues to beat you to death?
One of my favorite actors of all time is James Garner. I loved him when I was a kid and saw him in “Maverick,” I loved him as a young person, when he was in “The Rockford Files.” I loved him in, “The Americanization of Emily,” “Victor Victoria” and others. Many years ago James Garner was interviewed (in Playboy magazine, oh my). He was asked, since he was born in Norman, Oklahoma, whether he was prejudiced against people of color. He said, “No,” which you’d expect him to say. But he also said, “I can’t hate a group of people for any reason. But I can hate individuals real well.” I think I’m the same way.
I don’t want to burst anybody’s bubble if they think the chaplain of Interfaith Congregation should be perfectly pious and love everybody all the time. Sometimes, I admit, I don’t. I’m certainly better than I was years ago before I went into the ministry, but I haven’t yet reached perfection. (And I probably never will.) Sometimes the person I have the hardest time forgiving is myself.
Yesterday my daughter danced her last dance recital. She’s been dancing since she was three years old, for fourteen years. Yesterday watching her up onstage, doing a ballet, tears came to my eyes, because I pictured her at the age of three, when the teacher was off to the side, telling her what steps to take and what moves to make. Now here she was, fourteen years later, grace, beauty and, dare I say it as an “impartial” dad, perfection: Poetry in motion.
I got to thinking about her journey from three to seventeen and how back then she made all kinds of mistakes. But everybody laughed at them, just like we did yesterday when the three year olds were dancing, and it was no big deal. How similar is that to our own spiritual lives, when years ago we made mistakes, we committed what the religious call sins? Sin is just a word for missing the mark. Yet over the years we’ve stopped, hopefully, making those same mistakes. (Maybe we make new mistakes, but we’ve stopped making those same old mistakes.) Just like my daughter wouldn’t hold it against herself, and I certainly wouldn’t hold it against her -how she danced at the age of three, compared to how she danced at the age of seventeen - I don’t think we should hold it against ourselves, the way we were years ago in our spiritual life, compared to how we are now. We still aren't perfect, but hopefully we're better than we were.
The other day I was working on my sermon at JPs coffee shop. Somebody walked into JPs who I thought in the past had treated me unfairly. In a split second, I took those three steps: from anger to hatred to unforgiveness. I sat there thinking: What can I say or do to this person so that I’ll feel superior to him? Should I make some unkind remark? Should I make some nasty hand gesture? But then it dawned on me: I’M WRITING A SERMON ABOUT FORGIVENESS! So as he walked by, I said, “Hello.” Of course, an hour or two later I thought of all kinds of nicer things I could have also said, but maybe the first step on the road to forgiveness is sometimes simply saying, “Hello.”
What does it mean to forgive? How often do we forgive? How often don’t we forgive? When do we or don’t we forgive? I want to talk with you about forgiveness. Human to human forgiveness; not divine forgiveness of humans (for being – what? – human?). I want to talk with you about forgiveness, of others and of ourselves.
On Friday mornings some of you may know I co-host a radio show with Fred Wooden from Fountain Street Church in Grand Rapids. The program is called, “Faith and Reason.” It’s on from 10 till Noon. This past Friday, Fred was all upset. He was angry because Grand Rapids city workers had torn up the street in front of his house to work on some water pipes. Since the water to his house was shutoff, he couldn’t take a shower before he came to the radio station, which would be fine, but he had a funeral to do at 1 o’clock. So he had to leave the radio show early, to go home and take a shower before the funeral, and he was angry about that. He wasn’t sure who to be angry at. He thought the city workers, who put out signs the day before, saying, “No Parking,” could have put notes on people’s doors telling them there water would be shutoff. But he wasn’t sure who to be angry at. He was just angry.
I think the first step toward not forgiving is anger. I think unforgiveness takes three steps: anger and then hatred and then unforgiveness.
Tony Campolo is an evangelical Christian, a preacher, a retired sociology professor at Eastern University in Philadelphia. He spoke this past week in Holland at the Summit on Racism at Hope College. He told of a time years ago when he got two groups together, Buddhists and Christians. He divided them up into theologians and mystics. He put the Buddhist and Christian theologians in one group and the Buddhist and Christian mystics in another group, for four days. At the end of that time, the Christian and Buddhist theologians were arguing with each other, as they had the whole time they were together. “We believe this.” “You believe that! How could you believe that!?” They hated each other. The mystics, who prayed and meditated together for four days, loved each other. They hated to see each other go. Perhaps the moral of the story is that when two or more faith traditions get together, they shouldn’t talk about theology, they should just pray and meditate.
I think the Christian and Buddhist theological types went through the three stages of unforgiveness. There seemed to be some anger between the two groups; perhaps also some hatred; and finally, maybe they even reached the point of unforgiveness. That’s not a good thing. Conan O’Brian seems to know this.
Conan O’Brian was promoted to host The Tonight Show. Jay Leno was promoted to his own prime time program. But the ratings for The Jay Leno Show weren’t very good and the ratings for The Tonight Show with Conan O’Brian weren’t very good, so NBC came up with a compromise. They would pull Jay Leno off the prime time schedule and put him at 11:35 and they would put Conan O’Brian at 12:05. But Conan didn’t want to do The Tonight Show…tomorrow, so he left NBC and he was forbidden from talking about leaving until a couple of weeks ago when he was on 60 Minutes. He talked about his feelings towards Jay Leno and NBC. Surprisingly he said, “You’re going to think this is crazy, but I wish them well.” In other words he, in some form or fashion, forgave the folks at NBC. Now maybe the fact that he walked away with 32 million dollars helped his forgiveness. There is that possibility. But I think he also knew about the importance of forgiveness, something that religious leaders have preached about for millennia.
Peter asked Jesus, “Lord, how many times must we forgive? Seven times?” Jesus said, “Seventy-seven times,” or depending on the translation, “Seventy times seven,” which, if my math is correct, is 490 times. Now who can blame Peter for asking the question of Jesus? You’ve got Jesus there. Perhaps you have somebody you have a hard time forgiving. So why not ask Jesus how many times you have to forgive this person? Perhaps he was thinking that Jesus would say, “Well, I said, ‘Turn the other cheek,’ but you only do that once, so you only have to forgive one time.” So maybe Peter thought he was being generous by suggesting seven times. Jesus instead said 490 times. Always and forever essentially, we must forgive. Maybe forgiving somebody is good for us.
The Dalai Lama says, “One’s enemy is the best teacher.” I think that’s true. Now, granted, I could have used fewer teachers over the years, but maybe the Dalai Lama has a point. At the very least, our enemy, if we do it right, will teach us to forgive, if we follow the precepts of Jesus, the Dalai Lama, and others.
Ram Dass, who used to be known as Richard Alpert, was a professor at Harvard, but then he got into Buddhism and Hinduism and became Ram Dass. Many years ago he wrote a book, “Be Here Now.” A very simple title, a very easy to understand point. How can you “be” anyplace other than right here, right now? And yet, when we refuse to forgive, we’re living in some previous time. When we’re not forgiving somebody, we’re living in the past, living in anger. The only way to “be here now” is to forgive back then.
Erich Segal wrote a very popular book a few years ago entitled, “Love Story.” The tag line from “Love Story,” the movie and the book, was, “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.” I don’t think that’s true. I think love means always having to say you’re sorry. At least, that’s what I have to do in my marriage. “Sorry, honey, I forgot to mow the lawn.” “Sorry, honey, I ate the rest of the chocolate ice cream.” I think love means always having to say you’re sorry, whenever you do something wrong and hope to be forgiven.
I remember two things from my tenth grade art class. One, our art teacher was rather pretty. Two, she had a painting on the wall of two people sinking in quicksand. You could see that there were some vines or something they could grab onto. Instead, they were each clutching clubs, and they were beating each other as they were sinking in the quicksand. How angry must we be with somebody, how much hatred must we have for somebody, how much unforgiveness must be in our heart, not to be able to save ourself at the very least? And to keep beating your opponent to death, literally, as he continues to beat you to death?
One of my favorite actors of all time is James Garner. I loved him when I was a kid and saw him in “Maverick,” I loved him as a young person, when he was in “The Rockford Files.” I loved him in, “The Americanization of Emily,” “Victor Victoria” and others. Many years ago James Garner was interviewed (in Playboy magazine, oh my). He was asked, since he was born in Norman, Oklahoma, whether he was prejudiced against people of color. He said, “No,” which you’d expect him to say. But he also said, “I can’t hate a group of people for any reason. But I can hate individuals real well.” I think I’m the same way.
I don’t want to burst anybody’s bubble if they think the chaplain of Interfaith Congregation should be perfectly pious and love everybody all the time. Sometimes, I admit, I don’t. I’m certainly better than I was years ago before I went into the ministry, but I haven’t yet reached perfection. (And I probably never will.) Sometimes the person I have the hardest time forgiving is myself.
Yesterday my daughter danced her last dance recital. She’s been dancing since she was three years old, for fourteen years. Yesterday watching her up onstage, doing a ballet, tears came to my eyes, because I pictured her at the age of three, when the teacher was off to the side, telling her what steps to take and what moves to make. Now here she was, fourteen years later, grace, beauty and, dare I say it as an “impartial” dad, perfection: Poetry in motion.
I got to thinking about her journey from three to seventeen and how back then she made all kinds of mistakes. But everybody laughed at them, just like we did yesterday when the three year olds were dancing, and it was no big deal. How similar is that to our own spiritual lives, when years ago we made mistakes, we committed what the religious call sins? Sin is just a word for missing the mark. Yet over the years we’ve stopped, hopefully, making those same mistakes. (Maybe we make new mistakes, but we’ve stopped making those same old mistakes.) Just like my daughter wouldn’t hold it against herself, and I certainly wouldn’t hold it against her -how she danced at the age of three, compared to how she danced at the age of seventeen - I don’t think we should hold it against ourselves, the way we were years ago in our spiritual life, compared to how we are now. We still aren't perfect, but hopefully we're better than we were.
The other day I was working on my sermon at JPs coffee shop. Somebody walked into JPs who I thought in the past had treated me unfairly. In a split second, I took those three steps: from anger to hatred to unforgiveness. I sat there thinking: What can I say or do to this person so that I’ll feel superior to him? Should I make some unkind remark? Should I make some nasty hand gesture? But then it dawned on me: I’M WRITING A SERMON ABOUT FORGIVENESS! So as he walked by, I said, “Hello.” Of course, an hour or two later I thought of all kinds of nicer things I could have also said, but maybe the first step on the road to forgiveness is sometimes simply saying, “Hello.”
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Jesus And Other Noisy Leftists
Some of you may know that a few days ago I went before the Holland City Council. I asked the council to pass an ordinance barring discrimination of people because of sexual orientation or gender identity. And I was shocked by a couple of things that happened that night.
First I was shocked that the Holland City Council didn’t laugh me out of the room. Then I was shocked to walk out of the chambers and have a TV reporter, a radio reporter and two newspaper reporters all wanting to talk to me. Perhaps I was most shocked when several of our parishioners who were there that night - who heard me apologize to the council for not knowing exactly how to get an ordinance passed, because I’m a pastor not a politician – and those members of our congregation later were laughing at me for saying that. They said something along the lines of: You might be a pastor, but you’re also a politician. I was shocked, shocked.
Back in 2004 on election night I was at the Wealthy Street Theater in Grand Rapids, along with other Democrats, watching the election returns. I was there till about 2 in the morning and was devastated by the results. So I went home to my apartment, devastated. I got my mail and I opened up a letter. It was from the AARP congratulating me for being eligible to becoming a member of their organization. So it was a double devastation for me: not only did my candidate lose, but I was now old enough to join the AARP.
Okay, maybe I am a politician, but I would rather refer to myself more as a political animal. I love politics. I love watching Keith Olbermann and Chris Matthews. I love watching President Obama give a speech. I love the fact that he graduated from Harvard Law School, that he taught constitutional law and that he’s the one who gets to nominate the next Supreme Court justice. So I love politics. I talk about politics on the radio show I do with Fred Wooden from Fountain Street Church. (By the way, the program is called “Faith and Reason” and it’s on Friday mornings from 10 till Noon on 1680-AM, 95.3-FM and online at publicrealityradio.org – a little plug!) Although, rather than say we talk about politics, I prefer to say we talk about justice. Some people might have seen politics in what happened a few weeks ago.
As you may know, Erik Prince was invited to speak at the Holland Tulip Time Festival luncheon. Many people were upset about that, because Erik Prince founded Blackwater, a mercenary army, accused of killing innocent men, women and children in Iraq. So I invited Jeremy Scahill, author of the book “Blackwater," to come to Holland to speak on the same day as Erik Prince. Jeremy accepted, didn’t charge a speaking fee and even paid for his own plane ticket – bless his heart.
In his speech, Erik Prince said he has three main enemies: al-Qaida, the Taliban and noisy leftists. Now I realize what Erik Prince was doing. He was trying to make a joke. Ha, ha, ha – it’s not just al-Qaida and the Taliban that are my enemies, it’s also those noisy leftists – ha, ha, ha! I imagine that Erik Prince would count Jeremy Scahill as one of those noisy leftists and perhaps even me. I’m not sure, though, if I’m a noisy leftist. On some issues, I’m a libertarian. On some issues, I’m a conservative. And on some issues, I’m a Republican.
When it comes to the issue of abortion, I’m a libertarian – I don’t think the government should be involved in a woman’s decision. When it comes to the issue of the environment, I’m a conservative – I want to conserve our streams and rivers and lakes and oceans and earth and air. When it comes to the issue of the budget, I’m a Republican – I believe the government should live within its means, and not just when a Democrat is in the White House, but also when a Republican is in the White House. So I guess on that issue I’m more Republican than some Republicans. But I suppose on most issues I am a noisy leftist. But I think I’m in pretty good company.
Jesus goes up to a mountain, sits down and begins to talk to his disciples and the thousands of people who gathered around. Jesus says, "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.” Jesus says, “You have heard that it was said, "An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.' But I say to you, Do not resist an evildoer.” Jesus says, "You have heard that it was said, "You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I say to you, Love your enemies.”
Blessed are the peacemakers? Do not resist an evildoer? Love your enemies? My goodness. Jesus sounds like a noisy leftist. I bet he’d be on Erik Prince’s enemies list. So would Martin Luther King, Jr.
Dr. King says, “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” My goodness. Dr. King sounds like a noisy leftist. I bet he’d be on Erik Prince’s enemies list. So would Gandhi.
Gandhi says, “An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.” My goodness. Gandhi sounds like a noisy leftist. I bet he’d be on Erik Prince’s enemies list.
Is it such a bad thing to be called a noisy leftist, to be on Erik Prince’s enemies list? Or is it a badge of honor? I wonder how many people in Holland would be considered noisy leftists. I wonder how many people in Holland would be on Erik Prince’s enemies list.
The other day I was channel surfing and came across a program on the History Channel. It was called The History of the Earth. The program said that for hundreds of millions of years, the earth has been shifting. Tectonic plates under the earth move. The program said that at one time all the continents of the earth were one. You can sort of see that when you look at how the continent of South America fits into the continent of Africa. The program said that all continents were like that, all continents fit together as one, hundreds of millions of years ago, but because of the shifting of the tectonic plates the continents separated. They say the continents shift like that whenever there is an earthquake or a volcano erupts. So when a volcano erupts in Iceland or an earthquake hits in Haiti, that’s not God expressing anger, that’s the earth shifting.
I got to thinking: Holland is shifting; Holland is becoming more progressive. Now you wouldn’t have known that a couple weeks ago, when the Board of Trustees at Hope College refused to rescind their rules condemning homosexuality. That would not be an example of Holland shifting. But there are several other examples of Holland shifting, of Holland becoming more progressive.
In 2008, Barack Obama won Holland by 200 votes. That’s the first time a Democratic presidential candidate won in Holland since 1964, when President Lyndon Johnson, who took office after the assassination of President Kennedy, won here, probably getting some sympathy votes. So, in 2008, for the first time in 44 years, a Democratic presidential candidate won in Holland. Holland is shifting. Holland is becoming more progressive.
I have an anecdotal example of that from a few months ago. One day I was grocery shopping at Meijer, just down the street. I got to the checkout aisle and saw the usual assortment of supermarket tabloids. One of the tabloids said something like: President Obama is gay. I was laughing. And, the guy in front of me was laughing, too. He said, “Yeah, who would have guessed it? Obama is gay.” I think that 10 or 20 years ago, the guy in front of me wouldn’t have been laughing, he would’ve been looking stern and saying, “Oh, you think homosexuality is funny, do you?” But in 2010, the guy in front of me was laughing. Holland is shifting. Holland is becoming more progressive.
A couple months ago, several of us visited a Buddhist temple, one of two Buddhist temples in the Holland area. Who would have thought that there would be two Buddhist temples in the Holland area? I hear tell that there’s even an Interfaith Congregation that meets in a theater in the Holland area. Holland is shifting. Holland is becoming more progressive.
I mentioned Jeremy Scahill. When he came to town, as you may know, we reserved a theater here at the Holland 7 that seats 175 people. He filled that theater and an overflow theater, because 322 people came here to hear Jeremy Scahill. Now some of those folks came from Chicago and Ann Arbor and Traverse City, but I think most of those people came from Holland and the Holland area. Holland is shifting. Holland is becoming more progressive.
A survey was released a couple months ago that said Holland is the second happiest city in the country. Now I know some people found that amusing, but I think it’s great. And I think maybe one of the reasons people are happy in Holland is because Holland is shifting, Holland is becoming more progressive.
Now, will the city council of Holland pass an ordinance banning discrimination of people because of sexual orientation or gender identity in housing, employment and education? I don’t know. Time will tell. I’ve been asked by a group called “Holland Is Ready” to meet with them and strategize about how to get such an ordinance passed. And, of course, I’ll be happy to do that. The group “Holland Is Ready” is another indication that Holland is shifting, Holland is becoming more progressive.
My apologies if this Talk has sounded pretty political. But I felt I should talk about Erik Prince’s enemies list and calling people like me, and maybe some of you, noisy leftists. Whether you consider yourself a noisy leftist or a mumbling moderate or a quiet conservative, that’s fine with me. I’ll love you no matter what. (And I hope the reverse is true.)
I was reading a book the other day and I came across a quote by a Spanish philosopher, Ibn Arabi. Ibn Arabi says, “Love alone is my religion.” I like that. “Love alone is my religion.” Let us not worship MSNBC or the Fox News Channel, let us make love alone our religion. Let us not worship the Democratic Party or the Republican Party, let us make love alone our religion. Let us not worship President Obama or Rush Limbaugh, let us make love alone our religion. If we do that, if we make love alone our religion, then Holland and Michigan and America and the World will all be the better for it.
First I was shocked that the Holland City Council didn’t laugh me out of the room. Then I was shocked to walk out of the chambers and have a TV reporter, a radio reporter and two newspaper reporters all wanting to talk to me. Perhaps I was most shocked when several of our parishioners who were there that night - who heard me apologize to the council for not knowing exactly how to get an ordinance passed, because I’m a pastor not a politician – and those members of our congregation later were laughing at me for saying that. They said something along the lines of: You might be a pastor, but you’re also a politician. I was shocked, shocked.
Back in 2004 on election night I was at the Wealthy Street Theater in Grand Rapids, along with other Democrats, watching the election returns. I was there till about 2 in the morning and was devastated by the results. So I went home to my apartment, devastated. I got my mail and I opened up a letter. It was from the AARP congratulating me for being eligible to becoming a member of their organization. So it was a double devastation for me: not only did my candidate lose, but I was now old enough to join the AARP.
Okay, maybe I am a politician, but I would rather refer to myself more as a political animal. I love politics. I love watching Keith Olbermann and Chris Matthews. I love watching President Obama give a speech. I love the fact that he graduated from Harvard Law School, that he taught constitutional law and that he’s the one who gets to nominate the next Supreme Court justice. So I love politics. I talk about politics on the radio show I do with Fred Wooden from Fountain Street Church. (By the way, the program is called “Faith and Reason” and it’s on Friday mornings from 10 till Noon on 1680-AM, 95.3-FM and online at publicrealityradio.org – a little plug!) Although, rather than say we talk about politics, I prefer to say we talk about justice. Some people might have seen politics in what happened a few weeks ago.
As you may know, Erik Prince was invited to speak at the Holland Tulip Time Festival luncheon. Many people were upset about that, because Erik Prince founded Blackwater, a mercenary army, accused of killing innocent men, women and children in Iraq. So I invited Jeremy Scahill, author of the book “Blackwater," to come to Holland to speak on the same day as Erik Prince. Jeremy accepted, didn’t charge a speaking fee and even paid for his own plane ticket – bless his heart.
In his speech, Erik Prince said he has three main enemies: al-Qaida, the Taliban and noisy leftists. Now I realize what Erik Prince was doing. He was trying to make a joke. Ha, ha, ha – it’s not just al-Qaida and the Taliban that are my enemies, it’s also those noisy leftists – ha, ha, ha! I imagine that Erik Prince would count Jeremy Scahill as one of those noisy leftists and perhaps even me. I’m not sure, though, if I’m a noisy leftist. On some issues, I’m a libertarian. On some issues, I’m a conservative. And on some issues, I’m a Republican.
When it comes to the issue of abortion, I’m a libertarian – I don’t think the government should be involved in a woman’s decision. When it comes to the issue of the environment, I’m a conservative – I want to conserve our streams and rivers and lakes and oceans and earth and air. When it comes to the issue of the budget, I’m a Republican – I believe the government should live within its means, and not just when a Democrat is in the White House, but also when a Republican is in the White House. So I guess on that issue I’m more Republican than some Republicans. But I suppose on most issues I am a noisy leftist. But I think I’m in pretty good company.
Jesus goes up to a mountain, sits down and begins to talk to his disciples and the thousands of people who gathered around. Jesus says, "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.” Jesus says, “You have heard that it was said, "An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.' But I say to you, Do not resist an evildoer.” Jesus says, "You have heard that it was said, "You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I say to you, Love your enemies.”
Blessed are the peacemakers? Do not resist an evildoer? Love your enemies? My goodness. Jesus sounds like a noisy leftist. I bet he’d be on Erik Prince’s enemies list. So would Martin Luther King, Jr.
Dr. King says, “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” My goodness. Dr. King sounds like a noisy leftist. I bet he’d be on Erik Prince’s enemies list. So would Gandhi.
Gandhi says, “An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.” My goodness. Gandhi sounds like a noisy leftist. I bet he’d be on Erik Prince’s enemies list.
Is it such a bad thing to be called a noisy leftist, to be on Erik Prince’s enemies list? Or is it a badge of honor? I wonder how many people in Holland would be considered noisy leftists. I wonder how many people in Holland would be on Erik Prince’s enemies list.
The other day I was channel surfing and came across a program on the History Channel. It was called The History of the Earth. The program said that for hundreds of millions of years, the earth has been shifting. Tectonic plates under the earth move. The program said that at one time all the continents of the earth were one. You can sort of see that when you look at how the continent of South America fits into the continent of Africa. The program said that all continents were like that, all continents fit together as one, hundreds of millions of years ago, but because of the shifting of the tectonic plates the continents separated. They say the continents shift like that whenever there is an earthquake or a volcano erupts. So when a volcano erupts in Iceland or an earthquake hits in Haiti, that’s not God expressing anger, that’s the earth shifting.
I got to thinking: Holland is shifting; Holland is becoming more progressive. Now you wouldn’t have known that a couple weeks ago, when the Board of Trustees at Hope College refused to rescind their rules condemning homosexuality. That would not be an example of Holland shifting. But there are several other examples of Holland shifting, of Holland becoming more progressive.
In 2008, Barack Obama won Holland by 200 votes. That’s the first time a Democratic presidential candidate won in Holland since 1964, when President Lyndon Johnson, who took office after the assassination of President Kennedy, won here, probably getting some sympathy votes. So, in 2008, for the first time in 44 years, a Democratic presidential candidate won in Holland. Holland is shifting. Holland is becoming more progressive.
I have an anecdotal example of that from a few months ago. One day I was grocery shopping at Meijer, just down the street. I got to the checkout aisle and saw the usual assortment of supermarket tabloids. One of the tabloids said something like: President Obama is gay. I was laughing. And, the guy in front of me was laughing, too. He said, “Yeah, who would have guessed it? Obama is gay.” I think that 10 or 20 years ago, the guy in front of me wouldn’t have been laughing, he would’ve been looking stern and saying, “Oh, you think homosexuality is funny, do you?” But in 2010, the guy in front of me was laughing. Holland is shifting. Holland is becoming more progressive.
A couple months ago, several of us visited a Buddhist temple, one of two Buddhist temples in the Holland area. Who would have thought that there would be two Buddhist temples in the Holland area? I hear tell that there’s even an Interfaith Congregation that meets in a theater in the Holland area. Holland is shifting. Holland is becoming more progressive.
I mentioned Jeremy Scahill. When he came to town, as you may know, we reserved a theater here at the Holland 7 that seats 175 people. He filled that theater and an overflow theater, because 322 people came here to hear Jeremy Scahill. Now some of those folks came from Chicago and Ann Arbor and Traverse City, but I think most of those people came from Holland and the Holland area. Holland is shifting. Holland is becoming more progressive.
A survey was released a couple months ago that said Holland is the second happiest city in the country. Now I know some people found that amusing, but I think it’s great. And I think maybe one of the reasons people are happy in Holland is because Holland is shifting, Holland is becoming more progressive.
Now, will the city council of Holland pass an ordinance banning discrimination of people because of sexual orientation or gender identity in housing, employment and education? I don’t know. Time will tell. I’ve been asked by a group called “Holland Is Ready” to meet with them and strategize about how to get such an ordinance passed. And, of course, I’ll be happy to do that. The group “Holland Is Ready” is another indication that Holland is shifting, Holland is becoming more progressive.
My apologies if this Talk has sounded pretty political. But I felt I should talk about Erik Prince’s enemies list and calling people like me, and maybe some of you, noisy leftists. Whether you consider yourself a noisy leftist or a mumbling moderate or a quiet conservative, that’s fine with me. I’ll love you no matter what. (And I hope the reverse is true.)
I was reading a book the other day and I came across a quote by a Spanish philosopher, Ibn Arabi. Ibn Arabi says, “Love alone is my religion.” I like that. “Love alone is my religion.” Let us not worship MSNBC or the Fox News Channel, let us make love alone our religion. Let us not worship the Democratic Party or the Republican Party, let us make love alone our religion. Let us not worship President Obama or Rush Limbaugh, let us make love alone our religion. If we do that, if we make love alone our religion, then Holland and Michigan and America and the World will all be the better for it.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Love Is The Hokey Pokey Of Life
[The following was delivered at an Interfaith Civility Service we held on April 15.]
When I was a kid many years ago, I think in the basement of my childhood church, we learned the Hokey Pokey. Maybe you learned it as a kid too. You put your (I can never remember if you go right or left): “You put your right foot in, you put your right foot out, you put your right foot in and you shake it all about. You do the Hokey Pokey and you turn yourself around. That’s what it’s all about.” It’s too bad all of life isn’t as simple as the Hokey Pokey, isn’t it? My friend Fred Wooden from Fountain Street Church in Grand Rapids has a t-shirt that says: What if the Hokey Pokey is what it’s all about? Unfortunately, we know it’s not.
Lately it seems like incivility – and worse - is what it’s all about. A Congressperson is spat upon. African American Congress people are called the N-word. A gay Congressperson is called the F-word. Those victims were all Democrats. But incivility, or worse, is not restricted to one political party. A Republican Congressperson has a bullet shot through a window of his office building. Threats upon the life of President Obama increased 300 percent compared to the number of threats made against President Bush. Barack Obama is a Democrat, of course. But again, that kind of thing is not restricted to one political party. We remember that an assassination attempt was made many years ago on the life of President Reagan, a Republican. Incivility – and worse – covers the political spectrum. Just as terrorism covers the religious spectrum.
9-11, which happened nearly 9 years ago, involved Muslim terrorists. The Oklahoma City Federal Building bombing, which happened 15 years ago next week, involved a Christian terrorist, Timothy McVeigh. So incivility and terrorism span the political and spiritual spectrum. Are incivility and terrorism what it’s all about?
Not according to many religious leaders down through the ages. 2,000 years ago Jesus said, “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another.” More recently, the Dalai Lama, the leader of Tibetan Buddhism, said, “My religion is very simple. My religion is kindness.” Every religion that I know of – Baha’i, Buddhism, Christianity, Hinduism, Islam, Judaism, and more – everyone of them says, follow the Golden Rule. “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” “Love your neighbor as you love yourself.”
Incivility isn’t what it’s all about. Terrorism certainly isn’t what it’s all about. Love is what it’s all about. Love is the Hokey Pokey of life. Whether you go to your right or to your left, politically or spiritually. Love is the Hokey Pokey of life. That’s what it’s all about. That’s what it’s all about.
When I was a kid many years ago, I think in the basement of my childhood church, we learned the Hokey Pokey. Maybe you learned it as a kid too. You put your (I can never remember if you go right or left): “You put your right foot in, you put your right foot out, you put your right foot in and you shake it all about. You do the Hokey Pokey and you turn yourself around. That’s what it’s all about.” It’s too bad all of life isn’t as simple as the Hokey Pokey, isn’t it? My friend Fred Wooden from Fountain Street Church in Grand Rapids has a t-shirt that says: What if the Hokey Pokey is what it’s all about? Unfortunately, we know it’s not.
Lately it seems like incivility – and worse - is what it’s all about. A Congressperson is spat upon. African American Congress people are called the N-word. A gay Congressperson is called the F-word. Those victims were all Democrats. But incivility, or worse, is not restricted to one political party. A Republican Congressperson has a bullet shot through a window of his office building. Threats upon the life of President Obama increased 300 percent compared to the number of threats made against President Bush. Barack Obama is a Democrat, of course. But again, that kind of thing is not restricted to one political party. We remember that an assassination attempt was made many years ago on the life of President Reagan, a Republican. Incivility – and worse – covers the political spectrum. Just as terrorism covers the religious spectrum.
9-11, which happened nearly 9 years ago, involved Muslim terrorists. The Oklahoma City Federal Building bombing, which happened 15 years ago next week, involved a Christian terrorist, Timothy McVeigh. So incivility and terrorism span the political and spiritual spectrum. Are incivility and terrorism what it’s all about?
Not according to many religious leaders down through the ages. 2,000 years ago Jesus said, “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another.” More recently, the Dalai Lama, the leader of Tibetan Buddhism, said, “My religion is very simple. My religion is kindness.” Every religion that I know of – Baha’i, Buddhism, Christianity, Hinduism, Islam, Judaism, and more – everyone of them says, follow the Golden Rule. “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” “Love your neighbor as you love yourself.”
Incivility isn’t what it’s all about. Terrorism certainly isn’t what it’s all about. Love is what it’s all about. Love is the Hokey Pokey of life. Whether you go to your right or to your left, politically or spiritually. Love is the Hokey Pokey of life. That’s what it’s all about. That’s what it’s all about.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
What's The Essence Of Your Faith?
We’ve had some great weather lately. It’s funny how weather can often times determine our mood.
I remember walking to school one day when I was a kid. It was about this time of year. Winter was in the not-too-distant past, Spring was in the air and Summer was just around the corner. I was excited about all that, because as a kid I loved baseball. I would dream, think and talk about baseball all the time. I would play it whenever I could. (Not well, but I still had fun.) If you would have asked me back then what my religion was, what I worshiped, what the essence of my faith was, I’m sure I would have said, “Jesus.” But I didn’t dream, think and talk about Jesus all the time. Baseball was my religion, it’s what I worshiped, it was the essence of my faith, the way basketball is to some people.
Did you see the NCAA championship game between Duke and Butler? Some of us who didn’t have a dog in that fight were rooting for the underdog, Butler, to beat Duke. You probably know that Duke won, by 2 points. But Butler won the hearts of many Americans. It was probably fitting that the Final Four of March Madness (which now extends into April – it’s really mad!), was played in Indianapolis, because basketball is such a big deal in Indiana. If you asked many people in Indiana what’s their religion, what do they worship, what’s the essence of their faith, I’m sure they’d say, “Jesus,” even though many other people would suspect that basketball is the state religion in Indiana. Just like football seems to be the state religion in Texas.
To some people, sports is like a religion; they seemingly worship it; in many ways it’s the essence of their faith. They probably wouldn’t admit to that. They’d insist that Jesus was their Lord and Savior, or the Buddha or whoever but you’d sure get the impression that the World Series is their doctrine, the NBA finals is their dogma and the Super Bowl is their creed. Now don’t get me wrong. Sports can be a pleasant pastime, it’s just that some people seem to obsess about it. Of course, it could be worse.
Some people give the definite impression that their religion is money; they seemingly worship it; in many ways it’s the essence of their faith. Again, don’t get me wrong; we all need money to survive. But I’ve often gotten the impression that some people don’t even pretend that Jesus is their Lord and Savior or that they’re working on the Buddha within. Stocks are their doctrine, bonds are their dogma and greed is their creed.
What do you worship? What is your religion? What’s the essence of your faith?
My professional life has centered around politicians, who I used to cover; talk show hosts, since I used to be one; and religion, which hopefully I’m all about now. And I think I see a connection with all three of them. Maybe you see it too.
Some politicians, talk show hosts and religious leaders seem to specialize in fear. Fear is their stock in trade, or their shock in trade, if you will. Their message can basically be boiled down to: Be afraid! Be very afraid! Be scared half to death!
And yet, other politicians, talk show hosts and religious leaders specialize in the opposite of fear, which isn’t courage, but compassion. Their message can basically be boiled down to: Fear not! Be not afraid! The only thing we have to fear is fear itself!
Why the difference? Why do some politicians, talk show hosts and religious leaders preach fear, while others preach compassion? I think it has to do with theology. I think the politicians, talk show hosts and religious leaders who emphasize fear attract people who are afraid, people whose theology is based on fear, people who believe in a vengeful, hateful, hurtful God, a God to be feared, rather than loved.
I think the politicians, talk show hosts and religious leaders who emphasize compassion attract people who are concerned about compassion, people whose theology is based on compassion, people who believe in a compassionate, forgiving, understanding God, a God to be loved, rather than feared.
I don’t understand why people would choose politicians, talk show hosts and religious leaders who emphasize fear, rather than compassion. Although Jesus probably understood it very well; he must’ve understood that it’s a lot easier to get people to fear thy neighbor than to get them to love thy neighbor. It just seems to me that if you were looking for a meaningful point of view, the basis for your religion, the essence of your faith, love thy neighbor would be a better choice than fear thy neighbor. What’s the essence of your faith?
It’s often difficult to discern the essence of someone’s faith.
I went to a church once where they sang contemporary Christian songs for the first 20 minutes or so. Once the singing was over about a tenth of the crowd – about a hundred people - left before the preaching started. What was the essence of their faith? Maybe it was music; perhaps music lifted their spirits. And once the music was over, they left. (Or maybe they just wanted to avoid the sermon.)
What is the essence of people’s faith? I think there are at least 6 reasons people go to a house of worship (not counting: because their parents make them go). It seems to me that one or more of these would be the essence of someone’s faith. Spiritual. Communal. Ritual. Intellectual. Philosophical. Theological. Let me give you some examples.
To some people the essence of their faith is spiritual. They do go to church or temple or synagogue or mosque to meditate or to feel moved by the spirit.
To some people the essence of their faith is communal. They go to church or temple or synagogue or mosque to be with others, to see their friends.
To some people the essence of their faith is ritual. They go to church or temple or synagogue or mosque to receive communion or to dip their hands in holy water or to light a candle.
To some people the essence of their faith is intellectual. They go to church or temple or synagogue or mosque to hear a poem read or an idea explored.
To some people the essence of their faith is philosophical. They go to church or temple or synagogue or mosque to be reminded of a universal principle, like the Golden Rule, found in many faith traditions and Greek philosophy.
To some people the essence of their faith is theological. They go to church or temple or synagogue or mosque to be reminded of the tenets of their religion, to hear the sacred scripture read or to recite a creed.
Some people may find the essence of their faith in some or all of these qualities. What’s the essence of your faith?
One of the enjoyable things about being an interfaith chaplain is trying to determine what is the essence of other people’s faith. What are their beliefs and practices? Maybe you enjoy learning things like that, too.
We watched a documentary on the Buddha on PBS the other night. As you may know, the Buddha is said to have lived 25-hundred years ago. After that much time, it’s not always possible to separate fact from fiction, to determine what is truth and myth. The Buddha was born into a wealthy ruling family. He gave all that up to search for enlightenment. The Buddha became enlightened when he discovered that all people suffer and that the way to alleviate suffering is to let go of possessions, desires, ego, which is not always easy; that’s why so few people do it. That seems to be the essence of the Buddha’s faith.
What is the essence of other people’s faith? Do they worship God as fervently as they welcome the stranger, and vice versa?
What is the essence of other people’s faith? Do they believe in a God who forgives sins and do they therefore forgive the sins of others? Do they themselves also forgive their own sins?
What is the essence of other people’s faith? Do they ponder the present as much as they do the past?
I find it fascinating, seeing and knowing what others believe and whether and how they put it into practice. It’s like that great philosopher, Yogi Berra, once said, “You can observe a lot by watching.” What do you observe is the essence of other people’s faith? What is the essence of your own faith?
My thinking on this topic has evolved since I first started seriously pondering it. Not so long ago I would have dismissed what many people consider the essence of their faith. I’m not proud of that. I don’t do that anymore.
I remember one time in seminary; a group of students led one of our daily chapel services. Now our chapel services were pretty laid back, especially the student-led ones. Students wore jeans and sweatshirts, sneakers. But on this particular day, the students entered the chapel in fancy robes and hats, they carried candles and the Bible above their heads. It was quite elaborate. I said some smart-aleck remark to one of the professors after chapel. I said, “I’m not sure I was worthy enough to be at this service.” He said, “Yeah, pretty highfalutin wasn’t it?” Now, I look back on that worship service with fresh eyes and a reverential attitude. That kind of service was part of the essence of my classmates’ faith. Now, I understand and respect that.
Before, if people had told me that part of the essence of their faith was the stained glass windows in their church, I probably would have wondered: How could that be part of the essence of their faith? Now, I understand and respect that.
Before, if people had told me that part of the essence of their faith was coming to their house of worship just so they could hang out with friends, I probably would have wondered: How could that be part of the essence of their faith? Now, I understand and respect that.
Before, if people had told me that part of the essence of their faith was reciting a creed that was hundreds of years old and was now called by many scholars theologically out-of-date, I probably would have wondered: How could that be part of the essence of their faith? Now, I understand and respect that.
As a chaplain, especially as an interfaith chaplain, I understand that my role is not to decide for other people what is the essence of their faith or to pass judgment on what they have decided is the essence of their faith. My role is to help other people decide for themselves what is the essence of their faith. So, what’s the essence of your faith?
I remember walking to school one day when I was a kid. It was about this time of year. Winter was in the not-too-distant past, Spring was in the air and Summer was just around the corner. I was excited about all that, because as a kid I loved baseball. I would dream, think and talk about baseball all the time. I would play it whenever I could. (Not well, but I still had fun.) If you would have asked me back then what my religion was, what I worshiped, what the essence of my faith was, I’m sure I would have said, “Jesus.” But I didn’t dream, think and talk about Jesus all the time. Baseball was my religion, it’s what I worshiped, it was the essence of my faith, the way basketball is to some people.
Did you see the NCAA championship game between Duke and Butler? Some of us who didn’t have a dog in that fight were rooting for the underdog, Butler, to beat Duke. You probably know that Duke won, by 2 points. But Butler won the hearts of many Americans. It was probably fitting that the Final Four of March Madness (which now extends into April – it’s really mad!), was played in Indianapolis, because basketball is such a big deal in Indiana. If you asked many people in Indiana what’s their religion, what do they worship, what’s the essence of their faith, I’m sure they’d say, “Jesus,” even though many other people would suspect that basketball is the state religion in Indiana. Just like football seems to be the state religion in Texas.
To some people, sports is like a religion; they seemingly worship it; in many ways it’s the essence of their faith. They probably wouldn’t admit to that. They’d insist that Jesus was their Lord and Savior, or the Buddha or whoever but you’d sure get the impression that the World Series is their doctrine, the NBA finals is their dogma and the Super Bowl is their creed. Now don’t get me wrong. Sports can be a pleasant pastime, it’s just that some people seem to obsess about it. Of course, it could be worse.
Some people give the definite impression that their religion is money; they seemingly worship it; in many ways it’s the essence of their faith. Again, don’t get me wrong; we all need money to survive. But I’ve often gotten the impression that some people don’t even pretend that Jesus is their Lord and Savior or that they’re working on the Buddha within. Stocks are their doctrine, bonds are their dogma and greed is their creed.
What do you worship? What is your religion? What’s the essence of your faith?
My professional life has centered around politicians, who I used to cover; talk show hosts, since I used to be one; and religion, which hopefully I’m all about now. And I think I see a connection with all three of them. Maybe you see it too.
Some politicians, talk show hosts and religious leaders seem to specialize in fear. Fear is their stock in trade, or their shock in trade, if you will. Their message can basically be boiled down to: Be afraid! Be very afraid! Be scared half to death!
And yet, other politicians, talk show hosts and religious leaders specialize in the opposite of fear, which isn’t courage, but compassion. Their message can basically be boiled down to: Fear not! Be not afraid! The only thing we have to fear is fear itself!
Why the difference? Why do some politicians, talk show hosts and religious leaders preach fear, while others preach compassion? I think it has to do with theology. I think the politicians, talk show hosts and religious leaders who emphasize fear attract people who are afraid, people whose theology is based on fear, people who believe in a vengeful, hateful, hurtful God, a God to be feared, rather than loved.
I think the politicians, talk show hosts and religious leaders who emphasize compassion attract people who are concerned about compassion, people whose theology is based on compassion, people who believe in a compassionate, forgiving, understanding God, a God to be loved, rather than feared.
I don’t understand why people would choose politicians, talk show hosts and religious leaders who emphasize fear, rather than compassion. Although Jesus probably understood it very well; he must’ve understood that it’s a lot easier to get people to fear thy neighbor than to get them to love thy neighbor. It just seems to me that if you were looking for a meaningful point of view, the basis for your religion, the essence of your faith, love thy neighbor would be a better choice than fear thy neighbor. What’s the essence of your faith?
It’s often difficult to discern the essence of someone’s faith.
I went to a church once where they sang contemporary Christian songs for the first 20 minutes or so. Once the singing was over about a tenth of the crowd – about a hundred people - left before the preaching started. What was the essence of their faith? Maybe it was music; perhaps music lifted their spirits. And once the music was over, they left. (Or maybe they just wanted to avoid the sermon.)
What is the essence of people’s faith? I think there are at least 6 reasons people go to a house of worship (not counting: because their parents make them go). It seems to me that one or more of these would be the essence of someone’s faith. Spiritual. Communal. Ritual. Intellectual. Philosophical. Theological. Let me give you some examples.
To some people the essence of their faith is spiritual. They do go to church or temple or synagogue or mosque to meditate or to feel moved by the spirit.
To some people the essence of their faith is communal. They go to church or temple or synagogue or mosque to be with others, to see their friends.
To some people the essence of their faith is ritual. They go to church or temple or synagogue or mosque to receive communion or to dip their hands in holy water or to light a candle.
To some people the essence of their faith is intellectual. They go to church or temple or synagogue or mosque to hear a poem read or an idea explored.
To some people the essence of their faith is philosophical. They go to church or temple or synagogue or mosque to be reminded of a universal principle, like the Golden Rule, found in many faith traditions and Greek philosophy.
To some people the essence of their faith is theological. They go to church or temple or synagogue or mosque to be reminded of the tenets of their religion, to hear the sacred scripture read or to recite a creed.
Some people may find the essence of their faith in some or all of these qualities. What’s the essence of your faith?
One of the enjoyable things about being an interfaith chaplain is trying to determine what is the essence of other people’s faith. What are their beliefs and practices? Maybe you enjoy learning things like that, too.
We watched a documentary on the Buddha on PBS the other night. As you may know, the Buddha is said to have lived 25-hundred years ago. After that much time, it’s not always possible to separate fact from fiction, to determine what is truth and myth. The Buddha was born into a wealthy ruling family. He gave all that up to search for enlightenment. The Buddha became enlightened when he discovered that all people suffer and that the way to alleviate suffering is to let go of possessions, desires, ego, which is not always easy; that’s why so few people do it. That seems to be the essence of the Buddha’s faith.
What is the essence of other people’s faith? Do they worship God as fervently as they welcome the stranger, and vice versa?
What is the essence of other people’s faith? Do they believe in a God who forgives sins and do they therefore forgive the sins of others? Do they themselves also forgive their own sins?
What is the essence of other people’s faith? Do they ponder the present as much as they do the past?
I find it fascinating, seeing and knowing what others believe and whether and how they put it into practice. It’s like that great philosopher, Yogi Berra, once said, “You can observe a lot by watching.” What do you observe is the essence of other people’s faith? What is the essence of your own faith?
My thinking on this topic has evolved since I first started seriously pondering it. Not so long ago I would have dismissed what many people consider the essence of their faith. I’m not proud of that. I don’t do that anymore.
I remember one time in seminary; a group of students led one of our daily chapel services. Now our chapel services were pretty laid back, especially the student-led ones. Students wore jeans and sweatshirts, sneakers. But on this particular day, the students entered the chapel in fancy robes and hats, they carried candles and the Bible above their heads. It was quite elaborate. I said some smart-aleck remark to one of the professors after chapel. I said, “I’m not sure I was worthy enough to be at this service.” He said, “Yeah, pretty highfalutin wasn’t it?” Now, I look back on that worship service with fresh eyes and a reverential attitude. That kind of service was part of the essence of my classmates’ faith. Now, I understand and respect that.
Before, if people had told me that part of the essence of their faith was the stained glass windows in their church, I probably would have wondered: How could that be part of the essence of their faith? Now, I understand and respect that.
Before, if people had told me that part of the essence of their faith was coming to their house of worship just so they could hang out with friends, I probably would have wondered: How could that be part of the essence of their faith? Now, I understand and respect that.
Before, if people had told me that part of the essence of their faith was reciting a creed that was hundreds of years old and was now called by many scholars theologically out-of-date, I probably would have wondered: How could that be part of the essence of their faith? Now, I understand and respect that.
As a chaplain, especially as an interfaith chaplain, I understand that my role is not to decide for other people what is the essence of their faith or to pass judgment on what they have decided is the essence of their faith. My role is to help other people decide for themselves what is the essence of their faith. So, what’s the essence of your faith?
Sunday, April 4, 2010
You Are Resurrected Everyday
Daniel Roebuck is a character actor. You’d recognize him if you saw him. He was in movies like “The Fugitive” and “U.S. Marshals” (which was really the same movie). He’s been on “Matlock” dozens of times as Andy Griffith’s assistant. I heard him on the radio the other day. He says he idolizes Andy Griffith. He says a hundred years from now people will still be watching the old Andy Griffith show, because of its timeless wisdom and values.
I remember watching “The Andy Griffith Show” when I was a kid. I think I watched it because Barney Fife, Don Knotts, was so funny. And it did have timeless wisdom and values. It treated people with dignity and respect. How many times did Andy go out of his way to avoid embarrassing Barney or to make Barney feel good about himself? When you watch old shows like that, you just might find yourself yearning for what seemed like a better time in America.
If you wanted to, you could pretend that the last 50 years or so never happened. You can go on Amazon.com and buy the first season of “The Andy Griffith Show,” from 1960, for about 16 dollars. You can go online and for about 20,000 dollars, you can buy a 1964 Mustang, the first year they were built. And for only about 25 dollars, you can buy a Nehru jacket from the ‘60s. Then you could make-believe that you’re living a half-century ago or so.
Some people want things to never change. They hate change. They want the world to always stay the same, the way it was back in “the good old days.” They themselves want to stay the same and never change, too. Usually they’re pretty successful at it. They believe the same things they did 50 years ago. They have the same friends (and the same enemies). They’re like the guy who goes to his 25th high school reunion and is proud of the fact that he acts the same now as he did then. “A man who views the world the same at fifty as he did at twenty has wasted thirty years of his life,” says Muhammad Ali, a Muslim.
I wonder if the nine Christian militia members in Michigan (all white), who were arrested the other day for allegedly plotting terrorism, just really hate change. I wonder if they yearn for “the good old days,” when Presidents of the United States of America were white and Speakers of the U.S. House of Representatives were men and immigrants weren’t illegal because they weren’t people of color.
I wonder if the Tea Party protesters feel pretty much the same way. (Is it a coincidence that they’re all white, too?) They say they hate the deficit, but they can’t really hate the deficit, because they were silent when it was ballooning during the Bush years. They say they hate socialized medicine, but they can’t really hate socialized medicine, because many of them seem to be old enough to be on Medicare – socialized medicine. Or do they just hate socialized medicine for everybody else? Or do they just hate change? (Especially change from a Republican president to a Democratic one.)
Today, Christians celebrate what they consider to be the biggest change ever. Christians believe that 2,000 years ago Jesus went from Good Friday to Easter Sunday, from death to life, from burial to resurrection. It’s a miracle. Christians believe it had never happened before and it hasn’t happened again since. Nobody else has ever gone from Good Friday to Easter Sunday. Nobody else has ever died and come back to life. Nobody else has ever been buried and then been resurrected. I’m not here to confirm or deny the claim that Jesus was resurrected. I’m just here to wonder if people aren’t resurrected all the time, at least metaphorically.
Saul was a Jew who hated the teachings of Jesus, even though Jesus was a fellow Jew. Saul didn’t like the emerging Christian movement, even before it was called the emerging Christian movement. We don’t know whether Saul was one of the people at Jesus’ inquisition yelling, “Crucify him! Crucify him!” I think you could make a logical case that he would have been there. We do know that Saul stood by and watched one of Jesus’ followers, Stephen, get stoned to death. So he was at least an accomplice in Stephen’s murder and martyrdom. The early Christians, people of the Way, saw Saul as an evil man, at least before he traveled on the road to Damascus.
You probably know this story. Saul is walking along, on his way to persecute more followers of Jesus, when all of a sudden he is blinded by a light! Then he hears a voice! It’s Jesus! “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” Eventually Saul regains his sight and changes his ways and his name. He becomes a follower of Jesus known as the Apostle Paul. Some say he was the most significant Christian ever, planting many churches and converting many to Christianity.
What happened to Paul on the road to Damascus? I would like to suggest that he went from Good Friday to Easter Sunday; that he died and came back to life; that he was buried and then was resurrected. Could that kind of thing happen to you and me? Could we go from Good Friday to Easter Sunday? Could we die and come back to life? Could we be buried and then be resurrected?
Nelson Mandela was an anti-apartheid leader in South Africa. Although he was an admirer of Mahatma Gandhi, who was all about peaceful civil disobedience, Nelson Mandela fought against the white supremacist government of South Africa, sometimes with violence. The U.S. government called him a terrorist. He was arrested, tried and convicted of sabotage and treason. He spent 27 years in prison. He got out in 1990.
When he got out of prison, Nelson Mandela did not go back to violence. He led South Africa through a peaceful transition, from white rule to multiracial democracy, from violence to reconciliation. He became the first president of South Africa to be elected in a fully representative democratic election. He served from 1994 to 1999. In 1993 he won the Nobel Peace Prize.
What happened to Nelson Mandela over the years? I would like to suggest that he went from Good Friday to Easter Sunday; that he died and came back to life; that he was buried and then was resurrected. Could that kind of thing happen to you and me? Could we go from Good Friday to Easter Sunday? Could we die and come back to life? Could we be buried and then be resurrected?
“Amish Grace” is a movie that aired on the Lifetime channel this past week. It was excellent. It was about the mass murders-suicide that happened at an Amish school in Pennsylvania a few years ago. The world took notice of that tragedy, because immediately afterwards, the Amish parents of the children killed went to the widow of the murderer and offered forgiveness and support. The world was flabbergasted that a group of religious people actually practiced what they preached, or heard preached. The story focused on Ida, played by Kimberly Williams-Paisley, the mother of one of the victims. In the story, she was unwilling to forgive, at least for a while.
Then one of the survivors of the shootings told Ida that her daughter said to the gunman that she would pray for him, which she did, just before he killed her. Ida broke down. She then offered forgiveness and support to the murderer’s widow, figuring she had to follow her late daughter’s lead.
What happened to Ida over the course of the movie? I would like to suggest that she went from Good Friday to Easter Sunday; that she died and came back to life; that she was buried and then was resurrected. Could that kind of thing happen to you and me? Could we go from Good Friday to Easter Sunday? Could we die and come back to life? Could we be buried and then be resurrected?
They say you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink. Perhaps in a similar way you can lead a human being to truth, but you can’t make him think. I think of religious people who say they believe that the universe is only 10,000 years old; even though scientists tell us it’s billions of years old. The religious people don’t want to go against the timetable they see in the Bible. I used to be concerned about those religious people, but I’m not concerned about them anymore. It dawned on me that hundreds of years ago religious people believed that the sun revolved around the earth. They saw that in the Bible. Then Copernicus came along and said that the earth revolves around the sun. Religious people back then said that idea went against the Bible, so they rejected it, at least for a while. (I like to imagine that on the behinds of their horses those religious people had “rumper” stickers that proclaimed, “The Bible says it. I believe it. That settles it.”) But I don’t know of any religious people today who still believe the sun revolves around the earth. So eventually the truth was accepted by everybody, just as I think it will be – eventually – with religious people who believe in a “young earth.”
A human being can change. A human being can be renewed. A human being can be reborn. A human being can be resurrected. Sometimes it’s altering your perspective. Sometimes it’s altering your attitude. Sometimes it’s altering your actions. If you believe you’re ignorant about something, you could go to sleep tonight determined to change and wake up tomorrow filled with a quest for truth. And after you’ve discovered truth, you could try to share it with others. If others don’t share your quest for truth, that’s okay. There’s nothing you can do about them. You can’t change them. You can only change you. And you have. You’ve changed. You’ve been renewed. You’ve been reborn. You’ve been resurrected. You’ve been resurrected from the dead; the dead state of ignorance, to a new life of truth.
They say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. But you can teach an old human being new tricks. And a human being can change. A human being can be renewed. A human being can be reborn. A human being can be resurrected. Sometimes it’s altering your perspective. Sometimes it’s altering your attitude. Sometimes it’s altering your actions. If you hate someone, you could go to sleep tonight determined to change and wake up tomorrow filled with love for that person. The next time you see that person, you could simply say to yourself, “I love that person.” Even if that person hates you; that’s okay. There’s nothing you can do about them. You can’t change them. You can only change you. And you have. You’ve changed. You’ve been renewed. You’ve been reborn. You’ve been resurrected. You’ve been resurrected from the dead; from the dead state of hate, to a new life of love.
They say a leopard can’t change its spots. But a human being can change. A human being can be renewed. A human being can be reborn. A human being can be resurrected. Sometimes it’s altering your perspective. Sometimes it’s altering your attitude. Sometimes it’s altering your actions. If you seek revenge against someone, you could go to sleep tonight determined to change and wake up tomorrow filled with forgiveness for that person. The next time you see that person, you could simply say, “Hello.” Perhaps that person will be taken aback. Perhaps that person will say, “Hello” back. Perhaps that person will ignore you completely. Or worse. There’s nothing you can do about them. You can’t change them. You can only change you. And you have. You’ve changed. You’ve been renewed. You’ve been reborn. You’ve been resurrected. You’ve been resurrected from the dead; from the dead state of revenge, to a new life of forgiveness.
When you go from ignorance to truth, when you go from hate to love, when you go from revenge to forgiveness, you’ve been renewed; you’ve been reborn; you’ve been resurrected. It’s a miracle. Happy Easter!
I remember watching “The Andy Griffith Show” when I was a kid. I think I watched it because Barney Fife, Don Knotts, was so funny. And it did have timeless wisdom and values. It treated people with dignity and respect. How many times did Andy go out of his way to avoid embarrassing Barney or to make Barney feel good about himself? When you watch old shows like that, you just might find yourself yearning for what seemed like a better time in America.
If you wanted to, you could pretend that the last 50 years or so never happened. You can go on Amazon.com and buy the first season of “The Andy Griffith Show,” from 1960, for about 16 dollars. You can go online and for about 20,000 dollars, you can buy a 1964 Mustang, the first year they were built. And for only about 25 dollars, you can buy a Nehru jacket from the ‘60s. Then you could make-believe that you’re living a half-century ago or so.
Some people want things to never change. They hate change. They want the world to always stay the same, the way it was back in “the good old days.” They themselves want to stay the same and never change, too. Usually they’re pretty successful at it. They believe the same things they did 50 years ago. They have the same friends (and the same enemies). They’re like the guy who goes to his 25th high school reunion and is proud of the fact that he acts the same now as he did then. “A man who views the world the same at fifty as he did at twenty has wasted thirty years of his life,” says Muhammad Ali, a Muslim.
I wonder if the nine Christian militia members in Michigan (all white), who were arrested the other day for allegedly plotting terrorism, just really hate change. I wonder if they yearn for “the good old days,” when Presidents of the United States of America were white and Speakers of the U.S. House of Representatives were men and immigrants weren’t illegal because they weren’t people of color.
I wonder if the Tea Party protesters feel pretty much the same way. (Is it a coincidence that they’re all white, too?) They say they hate the deficit, but they can’t really hate the deficit, because they were silent when it was ballooning during the Bush years. They say they hate socialized medicine, but they can’t really hate socialized medicine, because many of them seem to be old enough to be on Medicare – socialized medicine. Or do they just hate socialized medicine for everybody else? Or do they just hate change? (Especially change from a Republican president to a Democratic one.)
Today, Christians celebrate what they consider to be the biggest change ever. Christians believe that 2,000 years ago Jesus went from Good Friday to Easter Sunday, from death to life, from burial to resurrection. It’s a miracle. Christians believe it had never happened before and it hasn’t happened again since. Nobody else has ever gone from Good Friday to Easter Sunday. Nobody else has ever died and come back to life. Nobody else has ever been buried and then been resurrected. I’m not here to confirm or deny the claim that Jesus was resurrected. I’m just here to wonder if people aren’t resurrected all the time, at least metaphorically.
Saul was a Jew who hated the teachings of Jesus, even though Jesus was a fellow Jew. Saul didn’t like the emerging Christian movement, even before it was called the emerging Christian movement. We don’t know whether Saul was one of the people at Jesus’ inquisition yelling, “Crucify him! Crucify him!” I think you could make a logical case that he would have been there. We do know that Saul stood by and watched one of Jesus’ followers, Stephen, get stoned to death. So he was at least an accomplice in Stephen’s murder and martyrdom. The early Christians, people of the Way, saw Saul as an evil man, at least before he traveled on the road to Damascus.
You probably know this story. Saul is walking along, on his way to persecute more followers of Jesus, when all of a sudden he is blinded by a light! Then he hears a voice! It’s Jesus! “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” Eventually Saul regains his sight and changes his ways and his name. He becomes a follower of Jesus known as the Apostle Paul. Some say he was the most significant Christian ever, planting many churches and converting many to Christianity.
What happened to Paul on the road to Damascus? I would like to suggest that he went from Good Friday to Easter Sunday; that he died and came back to life; that he was buried and then was resurrected. Could that kind of thing happen to you and me? Could we go from Good Friday to Easter Sunday? Could we die and come back to life? Could we be buried and then be resurrected?
Nelson Mandela was an anti-apartheid leader in South Africa. Although he was an admirer of Mahatma Gandhi, who was all about peaceful civil disobedience, Nelson Mandela fought against the white supremacist government of South Africa, sometimes with violence. The U.S. government called him a terrorist. He was arrested, tried and convicted of sabotage and treason. He spent 27 years in prison. He got out in 1990.
When he got out of prison, Nelson Mandela did not go back to violence. He led South Africa through a peaceful transition, from white rule to multiracial democracy, from violence to reconciliation. He became the first president of South Africa to be elected in a fully representative democratic election. He served from 1994 to 1999. In 1993 he won the Nobel Peace Prize.
What happened to Nelson Mandela over the years? I would like to suggest that he went from Good Friday to Easter Sunday; that he died and came back to life; that he was buried and then was resurrected. Could that kind of thing happen to you and me? Could we go from Good Friday to Easter Sunday? Could we die and come back to life? Could we be buried and then be resurrected?
“Amish Grace” is a movie that aired on the Lifetime channel this past week. It was excellent. It was about the mass murders-suicide that happened at an Amish school in Pennsylvania a few years ago. The world took notice of that tragedy, because immediately afterwards, the Amish parents of the children killed went to the widow of the murderer and offered forgiveness and support. The world was flabbergasted that a group of religious people actually practiced what they preached, or heard preached. The story focused on Ida, played by Kimberly Williams-Paisley, the mother of one of the victims. In the story, she was unwilling to forgive, at least for a while.
Then one of the survivors of the shootings told Ida that her daughter said to the gunman that she would pray for him, which she did, just before he killed her. Ida broke down. She then offered forgiveness and support to the murderer’s widow, figuring she had to follow her late daughter’s lead.
What happened to Ida over the course of the movie? I would like to suggest that she went from Good Friday to Easter Sunday; that she died and came back to life; that she was buried and then was resurrected. Could that kind of thing happen to you and me? Could we go from Good Friday to Easter Sunday? Could we die and come back to life? Could we be buried and then be resurrected?
They say you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink. Perhaps in a similar way you can lead a human being to truth, but you can’t make him think. I think of religious people who say they believe that the universe is only 10,000 years old; even though scientists tell us it’s billions of years old. The religious people don’t want to go against the timetable they see in the Bible. I used to be concerned about those religious people, but I’m not concerned about them anymore. It dawned on me that hundreds of years ago religious people believed that the sun revolved around the earth. They saw that in the Bible. Then Copernicus came along and said that the earth revolves around the sun. Religious people back then said that idea went against the Bible, so they rejected it, at least for a while. (I like to imagine that on the behinds of their horses those religious people had “rumper” stickers that proclaimed, “The Bible says it. I believe it. That settles it.”) But I don’t know of any religious people today who still believe the sun revolves around the earth. So eventually the truth was accepted by everybody, just as I think it will be – eventually – with religious people who believe in a “young earth.”
A human being can change. A human being can be renewed. A human being can be reborn. A human being can be resurrected. Sometimes it’s altering your perspective. Sometimes it’s altering your attitude. Sometimes it’s altering your actions. If you believe you’re ignorant about something, you could go to sleep tonight determined to change and wake up tomorrow filled with a quest for truth. And after you’ve discovered truth, you could try to share it with others. If others don’t share your quest for truth, that’s okay. There’s nothing you can do about them. You can’t change them. You can only change you. And you have. You’ve changed. You’ve been renewed. You’ve been reborn. You’ve been resurrected. You’ve been resurrected from the dead; the dead state of ignorance, to a new life of truth.
They say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. But you can teach an old human being new tricks. And a human being can change. A human being can be renewed. A human being can be reborn. A human being can be resurrected. Sometimes it’s altering your perspective. Sometimes it’s altering your attitude. Sometimes it’s altering your actions. If you hate someone, you could go to sleep tonight determined to change and wake up tomorrow filled with love for that person. The next time you see that person, you could simply say to yourself, “I love that person.” Even if that person hates you; that’s okay. There’s nothing you can do about them. You can’t change them. You can only change you. And you have. You’ve changed. You’ve been renewed. You’ve been reborn. You’ve been resurrected. You’ve been resurrected from the dead; from the dead state of hate, to a new life of love.
They say a leopard can’t change its spots. But a human being can change. A human being can be renewed. A human being can be reborn. A human being can be resurrected. Sometimes it’s altering your perspective. Sometimes it’s altering your attitude. Sometimes it’s altering your actions. If you seek revenge against someone, you could go to sleep tonight determined to change and wake up tomorrow filled with forgiveness for that person. The next time you see that person, you could simply say, “Hello.” Perhaps that person will be taken aback. Perhaps that person will say, “Hello” back. Perhaps that person will ignore you completely. Or worse. There’s nothing you can do about them. You can’t change them. You can only change you. And you have. You’ve changed. You’ve been renewed. You’ve been reborn. You’ve been resurrected. You’ve been resurrected from the dead; from the dead state of revenge, to a new life of forgiveness.
When you go from ignorance to truth, when you go from hate to love, when you go from revenge to forgiveness, you’ve been renewed; you’ve been reborn; you’ve been resurrected. It’s a miracle. Happy Easter!
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