Pastoral Ponderings on Periwinkle Way

Pipers and Pills and Paying the Price

2012-02-20T16:22:00.000-05:00

I've been thinking a lot about the current dust-up about including mandatory birth control coverage in insurance policies, even those offered by organizations operated by religious groups. And as I've thought about it, I've been reminded of something my late father used to say: "Whoever pays the piper calls the tune."

Now as anyone who reads this blog knows, I am a big fan of religious freedom. I think the separation of church and state is vital to the health and well being of both! But I'm not convinced that this mandate is a breach of that wall.

To begin with, churches and other institutions which are set up to help folks pursue their religious practices are exempt. If a church or mosque or temple or synagogue insures its pastors or staff, it does not have to provide coverage for birth control pills or other forms of contraception. And that is right and proper. But if a religious body has chosen to operate say a hospital, that institution was not exempted in the original mandate. And no individual is being forced to buy or use contraceptive devices. (For the sake of this piece, I'm setting aside the compromise mandate.)

I certainly believe that serving the sick, the poor, those in need of education and so on, can be and often is a religious practice. My own denomination has a long history of doing just that! But I tend to agree with those who have suggested churches and others have already climbed over the wall of separation the minute they have accepted federal dollars to support their programs. What hospital doesn't accept Medicare? What college doesn't accept federal grants? If a church-related hospital or school is operated without tax dollars, then fine, I agree--it should be exempt from such mandates. But if not, if it is operating with monies provided by the government, then certain rights and privileges are given up.

My Dad was rather conservative, and we often disagreed. But I suspect he'd back me up on this one. Like I said, he was fond of saying "Whoever pays the piper calls the tune."

One Moment In Time

2012-02-13T13:52:00.002-05:00

I never knew Whitney Houston personally. But like so many others, my life was greatly enriched by her music. And at one point, it intersected with my own life in a very powerful way.

The year was 1989, right in the middle of a string of hits for the gifted vocalist. My son Matt was graduating from high school in upstate New York. And I had been asked to preach the sermon at the Baccalaureate Service being held by and for his class. They had already chosen a theme for graduation weekend, a theme based on Ms. Houston's song "One Moment in Time." Two graduating seniors were slated to sing it--no small feat, but one they carried it off well.

As I thought about the sermon, I decided to use their theme as my title. I used my allotted time to help the graduates and their families consider the importance of living each day as if it were the most important day in their lives.

I chose as my text Ecclesiastes 3:1-8: "To everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven . . . ." I told a story of living through an earthquake, and rediscovering just how precious life can be. I shared a letter that had been sent to me by a young woman who was dying of cancer who wrote, "I don't want to spend the time I have living dying, and I don't want anyone else to either . . . ." And then I addressed the graduates personally.

"Every moment is one moment in time," I said. "As you graduate on Sunday, hold your head high and be proud of your accomplishments. You've earned that right. But remember, you've earned it day-by-day. When your mothers gave you birth, you weren't wearing a cap and gown! When you started your first day of school, they didn't give you a diploma. And they didn't play Pomp and Circumstance when you first set foot in Gloversville High School. By living day-by-day-by-day, you've gotten to this day . . . .Don't take life for granted--treasure it! Don't wait for cancer or old age or an earthquake--live now! Make every day count for the good. For when you do that, as the song says, you will truly be 'a winner for a lifetime.'"

I don't know if any of those graduates remember that I spoke that day. I don't know if they remember a thing I said. But I suspect they do remember that Whitney Houston's music inspired them. I suspect they do remember that her soaring songs lifted their hearts and challenged their minds.

Like an earthquake or cancer, Ms. Houston's death brings us up short, reminds us all of the preciousness of life. I hope those graduates, now in their forties and not much younger than she was, take a few moments to consider anew the lofty vision her song lifted up on that weekend in 1989.

(Photo Credit: Linda Bradbury-Danner)

A New Modest Proposal

2012-02-06T10:54:00.000-05:00

This weekend I heard two numbers that I found somewhat disturbing. The first, offered up in all the pregame hype about the Super Bowl was the average cost for a thirty-second commercial during the game: $3.5 million dollars. That did not include the cost of production, the cost of actually making an ad.

The second figure I heard had to do with ongoing presidential campaign. It has been predicted that President Obama alone may raise upwards to $1 billion (that's with a "b") for his campaign. No figures were mentioned for the current Republican primary costs or the fall campaign dollars. But I assume they would be comparable.

Look--I watched (and enjoyed) the Super Bowl. I even enjoyed some of the commercials. And I am very intersted in the presidential campaign. It is of vital importance that we give serious consideration as we choose our governemental leaders. But something is really out-of-whack (if you will allow such a technical term) if we feel compelled to lavish such sums on either!

I did a little digging around the internet and discovered two other numbers that are of further interest.
The average cost of a three-bedroom house built by Habitat for Humanity in this country is $46,600. (http://www.showmehabitat.org/) The average cost of groceries (at the highest rate) for a family of four in this country, is $1235.90. (http://www.usda.gov/)

So I ran the figures. For the cost of just one, just one, Super Bowl ad, Habitat could build 75 houses. For the same cost, 11,328 hungry people could be fed (very nicely) for a month. For the cost of a presidential campaign, Habitat could build 21,739 houses! And, 3,236,507 hungry people could be fed for a month.

So, here's my proposition: let's encourage all those involved with the Super Bowl to forego more of those ads, and donate the money local food banks. Thousands, would be fed! And then let's ask our politicians to rely on the coverage they receive from the media to replace at least half of their advertising budgets and then encourage their supporteers to build a few houses. If both campaigns cut their campaign budgets in half this fall, and their donors diverted their funds to Habitat I figure we'd have about 37,500 more houses for those who need them.

I guess if my team had won Sunday (which they didn't) I might not be grousing so much. And if I was sure my candidate was going to win (which I'm not) I might feel otherwise. Still, win or lose, it seems to me both of these contests, and the costs involved in mounting them, need to be reexamined!

Equal Opportunity for Life?

2012-01-30T15:07:00.000-05:00

Last week three bills related to the practice of abortion in Florida were passed by the House Health and Human Services Access Subcommittee. They are not the law, not yet. But they are on the way. In one way or another each of these bills further restricts abortion here in the Sunshine State. HB 839 would ban abortions after the fetus is 20 weeks old based on the assumption that at that age a fetus can experience pain. HB 277 would institute a 24-hour waiting period, expand prohibitions against certain types of abortion and require all doctors performing abortions to take a three-hour ethics course every year. HB 1327 would ban selective abortions, those based on gender or race.

I am not in favor of unrestricted access to abortion. I believe that there are certain limits that the state can rightfully legislate and enforce. There are folks who say any limitations are wrong because they abridge a woman's right to make choices which impact her own health. But we have many laws and regulations that already do that (for men and women) in other areas of medicine. Abortion can't be totally exempt!

But that said, these particular regulations appear to be part of a growing attempt to make the definition of a legal abortion increasingly narrow. HB 839, for instance, is based on scientific assumptions that are not universally supported. While some researchers agree that pain can be experienced between weeks 20 and 24, others say it that doesn't happen until week 29.

HB277, with its required ethics course, seems to ignore the fact that almost all of medicine has enormous ethical implications. Why just single out doctors who perform abortions?

And HB 1327, while seemingly noble, feels slippery at best. It has been named the Susan B. Anthony and Frederick Douglas Prenatal Nondiscrimination and Equal Opportunity for Life Act. Great title--two great Americans! But wouldn't it be better attached to a bill correcting some of the social and economic inequities that mar certain aspects of American life? Often the most vocal opponents of abortion fail to recognize that the abortion debate isn't just about prenatal realities, but post-natal realities as well. It's not just about the rights of the so-called unborn, but also the rights of such children when they are unwanted and yet still brought into the world. It is about the rights of women who struggle to live in the here and now. Don't misunderstand, I am not suggesting that it is OK to make decisions to abort or not based on race or gender. But race and gender are real issues in this life. Why not work to provide quality healthcare, sound nutrition, affordable housing and meanigful education for those already in our midst? Now that would provide a genuinely Equal Opportunity for Life!

The Politics of Forgiveness

2012-01-23T14:33:00.001-05:00

Many folks thought the battle for the presidential nomination would be done and over by this time. But the results from South Carolina mean that things are still far from settled. There has been much talk over the past week about the allegations made by the ex-wife of one of the candidates. The allegations have made choices more complicated for some folks. The candidate says he has confessed his wrongdoing and asked for forgiveness, that he has changed his ways.
I have no way of knowing whether or not what he or she says is true. Nor is it my task to ascertain the veracity of such claims. But as a preacher it is my job to clarify theological terminology. And words don't get much more theological than the word "forgiveness." So, in the interest of advancing thoughtful discourse, let me offer up my take on this rather important term.

First, it is essential that one remembers that forgiveness doesn't mean saying, "What happened was OK." In fact, true forgiveness involves radical honesty. It may mean saying, "What I did was very, very wrong. it hurt others deeply. It was inexcusable." For, you see, if something can be excused, if something can be explained away, it doesn't need to be forgiven. Forgiving and excusing are two different things!

Second, forgiveness does not necessarily involve forgetting. For instance, an abused spouse can let go of her right to hit back, she can forgive her abuser by forgoing revenge, but that doesn't mean she needs to forget it happened! Indeed, she is wise to remember it, and take necessary precautions to ensure it won't happen again. For forgiveness doesn't side step the truth rather, it acknowledges the wrong. It means saying, "I won't try to get even with you, I won't exact revenge. I will let go of hatred." But there still may be legal consequences that have to play themselves out. There may be relational consequences that become necessary. You can forgive someone, yet no longer be their best friend. As author Anne LaMott writes: "[Forgiveness] means it finally becomes unimportant that you hit back. It doesn't necessarily mean you want to have lunch with the person."

In truth, forgiveness is really a matter of deciding whether one wants to live a life of love or a life of bitterness and hatred. When you fail to forgive, the person you hurt the most is yourself. "If you keep hitting back, LaMott says, "you stay trapped in the nightmare." But if you forgive you discover a new freedom. You replace the seemingly endless cycle of violence and hatred with a cycle of forgiveness, understanding and love.

In the end, then, forgiveness is about making a choice. So too is voting. But let's not get the two confused!

(Note: The quotations from Anne LaMott are taken from her excellent book of essays titled Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith.)

Of Civil Rights and Swimming Pools

2012-01-16T10:58:00.000-05:00

This is 2012, right? The Civil Rights movement had its heyday over forty years ago, right? Segregation has been illegal in this country for decades, has it not? Yet, somehow, we just haven't gotten it yet! Perhaps you saw a news item this past weekend out of Ohio. It seems that the landlord of a Cincinnati apartment complex posted a sign on the swimming pool gate proclaiming "Whites Only." According to the Associated Press the landlord claimed that chemicals in the hair of a young black girl were making the pool "cloudy" and so he posted the sign in order to keep the pool clean.

I must say, I was shocked. I shouldn't be. As Dr. King once said, "Racism is a tenacious evil . . . ." And so it is. And on this Martin Luther King holiday, we are reminded yet again that we must continue to speak up and out for those who are denied their basic rights.

Personally I take comfort in the fact that the above quote is only half of what Dr. King said. The full quotation (from his book Strength to Love) is as follows: "Racism is a tenacious evil, but it is not immutable." It is not unchangeable. It can be overcome. But racism will fight back every step of the way. Signs on fences will keep popping up, and we must see to it that they are taken down. Not just the signs on pool gates and restaurant windows and schoolhouse doors, but also the signs posted on our hearts and the hearts of those around us. For even as we fight institutionalized racism, so we must continually guard against it in our own actions and our own lives.

Yes, it is 2012. Yes the Civil Rights movement had its heyday over forty years ago. Yes, segregation has been illegal for decades. But the work is far from done, the dream has yet to be realized in its fullness.

(Photo Credit: Marion S. Trikoska)

No More Gym Class?!

2012-01-09T10:41:00.001-05:00

OK, let's be clear, right from the start. I hated physical education when I was a kid. Gym class was truly the bane of my existence in high school! I was the proverbial 90 pound weakling--and almost always picked last when we divided up into teams. The "phys ed" teachers were always much more interested in the football and basketball players than they were in uncoordinated guys like me. There was one of them who never even learned how to pronounce my name (Danner isn't really much if a tongue twister, but he somehow got it wrong, week after week!)

That said, I am appalled to learn that the State of Florida is seriously considering removing "phys ed" from the list of required classes for middle schoolers. Florida House Bill 4057 is being sponsored by Representative Larry Metz, from Yalaha. This in the face of the childhood obesity crisis!

The American Heart Association estimates that 30 percent of all children in Florida are considered to be obese. Thirty percent! One-in-three! Now is not the time to eliminate the one time many kids engage in physical activity. It is so easy today to sit out traditional childhood play--why make it even easier?

As an adult I finally learned the importance of tending to my body through exercise and physical activity. Theologically speaking, I came to understand that I needed to be a good steward of my body! Now, I walk. I practice yoga. I ride my bike. How much better off I'd be today if I'd had gym teachers who really paid attention to the non-athletes in their classes. But, that said, I'd be much worse off if I'd had no such classes at all!

As a kid, I never thought I'd ever champion the inclusion of gym class in my schedule. But adults are supposed to know better than kids.

Iowa, New Hampshire and Beyond!

2012-01-03T13:35:00.000-05:00

As I write this post the good folk of Iowa are gathering for caucus meetings all across the state. After months and months of being wooed they will finally cast their votes for one or another of the potential candidates for president. And then the attention (and media dollars) will shift to New Hampshire. By all accounts it has been a rather brutal campaign, with negative advertisements blanketing the airwaves.

I saw a piece on the op/ed pages of the local Fort Myers News-Press that summed up my feelings as well as anything I've read. It was written by Dan Warner, a retired editor who once won the Pulitzer. In the essay, Warner noted that their are two myths about politics that need debunking. First, the idea that, in his words, "all of the candidates are unqualified and unworthy." All too often we buy into the notion that politician is a four-letter word (it's not--it's actually a ten-letter word) and that all persons who run for office are by definition useless. Instead of such a negative approach, he suggest we honestly assess candidates looking intentionally for their positive attributes. Bravo, I say! If we keep emphazing the negative the day might come when it all becomes a self-fulfilling promise.

The second myth, he notes, is that, again his words, "there is one answer." Somehow, we have become so polarized as a society that we easily buy into the idea that there is only one way to resolve a problem: my way. I love Frank Sinatra--but my way is a lousy way to move through public life! Instead, we need to recognize that compromise can be very noble. And often, it is the only way to move forward!

Near the end of his essay, Warner writes: "The answer [to political gridlock] is not in the noise and slogans. It is in reasonable thought generated by reasonble leaders. And that means we must be reasonable followers." When I read that aloud to my wife she said, "There's a sermon in that!" And so there is! But for now, it will have to stand as this post on my blog.

Thanks, Mr. Warner, for wise, wise words. Maybe you should come out of retirment. Maybe you should run for office!

Shine On, Friends, Shine On!

2011-12-30T17:39:00.005-05:00

Two days before Christmas I had the pleasure of speaking before my Rotary Club here on Sanibel about various holiday traditions. I titled my talk "The Season of Lights" and focused on Hanukkah, Christmas and Kwanzaa.

Hanukkah, I reminded my listeners, is all about the ancient story of the Maccabees and their struggle to free Jerusalem from religious oppression. I told the story of the oil that miraculously lasted for eight days. I pointed out the history behind the Hanukkah game known as dreidel (it served as a decoy when children were studying the scriptures their oppressors had outlawed.) And I sang the wonderful Peter Yarrow song, "Light One Candle."

Christmas, the most familiar of the three to my listeners, also focuses on light. It was, afterall, set during December due to winter solstice! I spoke of the use of Advent candles, and the traditional Christian notion that Jesus is the Light of the World. I closed that section with one of my favorite carols, "Bring a Torch, Jeanette Isabella."

Kwanzaa, the most recent of the celebrations, is a cultural festival, rather than a religious festival, and came into existence out of a desire on the part of African-American leaders to reinstill a sense of identity and roots. The seven candles of the Kwanzaa celebration emphasize virtues like unity and self-determination. I sang the old spiritual "This Little Light of Mine" to finish my presentation.

"Each of these celebrations," I told my audience,"reminds us that we can bring light into a dark world. Each reminds us to keep the lights of freedom, love and heritage burning. When ever we reach out to one another we do just that!"

Later I happened to be driving behind a car from Virginia. It had one of those specialty license plates. This one was dedicated to preserving old lighthouses. It said "Keep the Lights Shining." That, in a nutshell, was my message to my civic club. And it is my wish for you as the year draws to a close. Keep the lights shining!

Beaches, Breakfasts and Angels Day and Night

2011-12-20T09:54:00.005-05:00

Every church has its revered traditions during the Advent and Christmas seasons. Here at Sanibel Congregational UCC those traditions reflect the fact that the weather is warm at this time of year. The subropical weather means we can hold a lovely Christmas Eve Beach Service at Lighthouse Beach. It is very stirring to watch hundreds and hundreds of candles being lit as the sun goes down over the Gulf of Mexico!

In one of my former churches, one of the traditions was the annual Angel Breakfast. The congregation's social hall was turned into a little bit of heaven every year. Golden stars were hung from the ceiling, tables were covered with white linens and decorated with shining candles and sprays of gold, and at the front of the room, the stage was festooned with puffy clouds and rays of starlight.

All the children in the third grade and under were invited to come with their parents on a Sunday morning before worship for a special breakfast. Carols were sung, sometimes there was a craft, and the highlight of the event was a visit by a band of angels.

The angels, of course, were the young folks of the parish, middle and high school students, dressed in white robes with golden halos. Most years, it was just girls. But one year, in recognition of the fact that biblically speaking angels are usually depicted as male, the boys were also actively recruited. That year, two young men rose to the occasion, they they did want to be known as guardian angels. Their role in the festivities was to stand watch on either side of the curtain as the girl angels first sang and then descended down from the stage and out into the audience.

The loveliest part of the whole affair came when the angels spread out and one -by-one, whispered special messages into the ear of each of the children at the breakfast.

One year one of the Dads who was at the breakfast told me that his youngest child, Jane, who was just three at the time, was spellbound, and very pleased when the angel whispered in her ear, "Jesus is coming!"

As things would happen, just as the angel left their table, Jane needed to go to the bathroom. So Dad took her by the hand and out they went to the restroom down the hall. A few minutes later when they returned and came back into0 the social hall, Jane stood at the door, surveyed the whole scene, and then, looking up at her Dad, asked, "So where's Jesus? Where is he? Where is he?"

It is the question we ask ourselves every year, isn't it? Where's Jesus? Where is he? When we survey the world around us, when we look at all the economic difficulties so many face, when we hear about a terminally ill child, when we read reports about the war in Afghanistan, we too wonder, "Where is Jesus? Where is God?"

Yet, then we hear about the many ways folks do reach out to one another, especially this time of year, and we realize anew that Jesus is right in our midst. We realize that the Christ Child is born anew every time we give of ourselves to our neighbors in need. And that, in the end, the self-giving love that can and does mark this Holy Season, is the greatest Advent and Christmas tradition of them all! Have a blessed Christmas! (And if you happen to be near Sanibel, join us at Lighthouse Beach at 5:30 on Christmas Eve, or here in the sanctuary at 9:00 PM)

(Photo Credit: Ed Neitzke)

On Line or On Point?

2011-12-11T15:30:00.005-05:00

Last Saturday I engaged in two quintessential holiday traditions: I went shopping and I attended a performance of The Nutcracker. The first was actually quite depressing. The second, was a sheer joy. And not just because I love Tchaikovsky (though I do!)

My shopping expedition involved going to a chain store devoted to video games and the paraphernalia needed to play them. It was a relatively small space, jammed with shelf after shelf of video games. Games for Playstation. Games for Wii. Games for Xbox. There were games for little kids, games for adults, and all manner of games in between. Most of them very expensive, and many of them very violent.

There was a rather long line wending its way to the cash registers, and one of the folks standing there was a very overweight boy of about thirteen and his mom. He was clutching three games to his chest, very pleased to be making the purchase. I imagine he spends much of his time after school plopped in front of a monitor, chasing down virtual bad guys and the like.

Later that night I attended Nutcracker. It was a modified version of the full-length ballet, presented by a local ballet school. Dozens of girls, ranging in age from four or five to the mid teens, and one little boy, danced their hearts out. One kid danced wearing a cast on her arm. Another little girl slipped and fell, and like a real trouper got on and finished out her number as if nothing had happened. The smallest children were adorable, if a bit uncoordinated. The oldest demonstrated that years of training and practice really do pay off.

This end of semester presentation involved hours and hours of practice. It involved real teamwork and learning new skills. It tested both body and mind in real and significant ways. There was nothing virtual about it! And while soldiers did chase down bad guys, they were just make-believe mice!

I worry about kids today--I worry about the hours and hours of time that they are "connected" to screens and all things virtual. I worry that they aren't sufficiently connected to other people and to their own bodies! I'm not opposed to video games in general, but all things in moderation! The game store only reinforced my fears, but the ballet gave me hope.

Along the walls in the game store were hundred if not thousands of games marked "preowned," games that had been traded in by previous owners who grew bored with them, or who wanted to have the newest thing. At the ballet we were told it there have performances of it all around the world for the last 119 years. You be the judge!

(Photo Credit: Milissa Sprecher aka "Proud Mom")

God, the Mall and Jersey

2011-12-06T14:59:00.007-05:00

My wife is going to be away this coming weekend and she asked me to use the time to finish up some of our Christmas shopping. Horrors! It's not that I don't like giving people gifts. I actually enjoy that part of it. But facing the malls and the shops . . . that's another matter! All the commercialism seems so contrary to the true meaning of Christmas. Then again, there is the Jersey story. Let me explain.

Several years back now, there was a young woman from my parish while I was in New Jersey who was facing a difficult pregnancy. And she was far from home. At one point she was rushed to a specialty unit in a Philadelphia hospital Her unborn baby had developed serious problems, and treating the fetus would have put the mother at some real risk.

Meanwhile, the young woman's mother-in-law was many miles away. She was able to pray. She did her best to support her son and her daughter-in-law with visits and phone calls. Still, she worried. More than that, she was afraid.

But Christmas was coming, and she had things that needed to be done, including some last minute shopping. So with a heavy heart she headed off to the mall. She wrestled the traffic, found a parking spot, and was exhausted before she even got inside.

As she passed through the mall hallways, she came across a group of school children singing in one of the mall courts. She sat down to listen, and soon the poignancy of their Christmas carols just washed over her, and she began to weep.

One of the school children's moms was seated next to her. She reached over and gently touched her arm. "Are you all right," she asked.

With that, it all came flooding out: my friend's fears, her worries, and her tears. The singer's mother turned out to be a woman of faith, and within seconds she gathered up three of her friends, and right there in the middle of the largest shopping mall in New Jersey, they prayed for a woman they had just met, her daughter-in-law a hundred miles away, and a baby not yet even born.

After my friend finished telling me the story she said, "John, I'm sure God sent those young mothers to tell me, 'You know where I am, and you know you're what you're doing, so just keep doing it.'"

At Christmas Christians celebrate the birth of Jesus, the one known as Emmanuel. It means, "God with us." I guess if God can show up in a shopping mall in New Jersey, God can show up anywhere! So I'll go look for presents this weekend--but maybe it will be a better experience if I also look for God.

One-and-a-Half Planets

2011-11-29T09:09:00.003-05:00

Black Friday has come and gone. And by all accounts it was an economic success. Record breaking amounts of money were spent by American consumers stocking up on gifts for the holiday gift-giving season and, no doubt, spending a bit on themselves as well. And, from one important perspective, that's a good thing. More spending means more producing, and more producing means more jobs. And heaven knows, we need more jobs!

But in the interest of creating jobs, there are some who are suggesting that we set aside various environmental goals and standards. This, though, is exceptionally short-sighted. It is the sort of attitude that got us into the environemental mess we are experiencing in the first place! Why is it that some folks are so quick to pit the creation of jobs against the environment, why not seek to create jobs that will help repair and sustain the environment? Our economic interests and our environemental interests can--and should--be in sync.

I have not researched Patagonia, the apparel manufacturer and retailer, but it appears they are trying to do just that. I was impressed by a full page add that ran in the New York Times on Black Friday. It featured a picture of a Patagonia jacket, headlined, "Don't Buy This Jacket." The ad copy opened with a rather startling statement: "It's Black Friday, the day in the year retail turns from red to black and starts to make real money. But Black Friday and the culture of consumption it reflects, puts the economy of natural systems that support all life firmly in the red. We're now using the resources of one-and-a-half planets on our one and only planet." The ad then went on to encourage consumers to reduce, repair, reuse and recycle. It included a promise by Patagonia to take back any of their clothing that is worn out and then to recycle it. "Don't buy what you don't need," the copy continues later, "Think twice before buying anything."

One thing the ad doesn't say, but that I will: we can't buy a new planet. Limiting our consumption to the resources of just one planet will take a concerted effort, and it will need to include all the players, governments, non-profits, corporations, individuals, labor and religious groups.

For Saugatuck

2011-11-21T12:52:00.005-05:00

We clergy types are fond of reminding people that a church is not a building, but rather the people. And that is profoundly true. Yet, those buildings, meeting houses in the parlance of New England, do shape who we are as a people. The church I serve here on Sanibel has a facility that is surrounded by wooden decks, with many doors that open onto the outdoors. The grounds are filled with beautiful, lush sub-tropical vegetation. The sanctuary is decorated in soft greens, and features many, many clear windows, bathing worshippers in Florida sunshine. The building is very much a part of the environs, and helps us to remember the commitment we have made in our church covenant to "protect in every way we can, the land God gave us here on Sanibel." Our building both reflects and shapes our very life as a church.

The church I served before coming here is in Connecticut. By New England standards it is not a very old congregation--it only dates back to 1832. Its building, though, has long been admired as a superb example of New England church architecture. Its steeple rises above the town of Westport, reminding all of the good news of God's love. Over the years the meetinghouse has been moved (literally across the street!) and added to in a variety of ways. And the church has used its building to benefit the wider community. Some fifty twelve step groups (like AA and Al-Anon) have met each week in its classrooms. Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts and Red Cross Blood Drives and a fine Nursery School have all called the Saugatuck Congregational Church (United Church of Christ) home. And twice a year, the church has thrown open its doors for magnificent feasts at Thanksgiving and Christmas for any and all in need of a good meal and company. The building, the meetinghouse, has helped shape that church and its relationship to the community, in so many, many ways.

But last night disaster struck--a fire ripped through a major part of the building. Brave firefighters were able to save the sanctuary and the steeple, the oldest parts of the building, but much of the rear part of the complex, where many of those community groups met, were ruined by the flames, the smoke and the water. The pictures and videos of the fire are heart wrenching.

But Saugatuck Congregational Church, the people of God who gather on Post Road in Westport, is a resilient church. They have dealt with challenges before. They have risen above calamity and proven time and again that they can and will live out Christ's command to love God and serve neighbor. They have had a building that reflects that commitment, and their life together has, in tune, been shaped by the building itself. And so I have no doubt they will rise up from this tragedy, much like a phoenix, so that they might continue being, as their vision statement says, "A Community of Christ--Welcoming All People--Learning to Love and Serve God and Neighbor."

My heart, and my prayers, go out this week to my brothers and sisters in Westport. I invite your prayers as well for Saugatuck Congregational Church.

Is Religion Important--Or Not?

2011-11-14T15:08:00.003-05:00

When you are a pastor, parishioners frequently pass on articles, books and websites that they think you might find interesting. Sometimes they are interesting in terms of content, but they are always interesting in terms of what they tell me about my congregation. For every article, every book, every website, points to some area of concern for those who pass them on.

I recently received a clipping from an out-of-state newspaper that a parishioner who spends much of his time "up north" (as we say here on Sanibel) passed along. It came from the "Living" section of the York (PA) Daily Record. And it had a very provocative headline. "Religion: How important is it?" The article quoted from some survey material out of Duke University that suggests so called "organized religion" is increasingly irrelevant in many peoples' lives. According to a survey taken in 2008, 20% of Americans said they had "no religion" as opposed to only 3% in 1957. Mark Chavas, the director of the survey work, and a professor of sociology, religion and divinity at Duke, is quoted in the article: "It used to be that even the most marginally active people wouldn't say they have no religion, they'd say I'm Catholic, or I'm Baptist, or I'm Methodist or whatever. . . . That's not the case today." (York Daily Record, 9-15-11, B-1)

That fewer folks are interested in organized religion is, of course, of great concern to most anyone who sees institutional expressions of faith as important. It can, and does, lead to a lot of soul-searching in churches and synagogues and mosques across the country. What can we do to be more relevant? How can we better address the needs of those we are failing to reach? But maybe the answer is as close as the articles, the books and the websites that get passed on to folks like me.

It is said that the Swiss theologian Karl Barth once advised preachers in training to "take your Bible and take your newspaper, and read both." But Karl Barth died in 1968. And while the thrust of his comment remains quite true, today he would need to amend it. "Go the Internet and go to your Bible, and read both." Will organized religion survive? I hope so--but only if we who practice our faith in community are willing to listen to what folks around us are saying--online and off!

2011-11-07T16:13:00.003-05:00

I love to read. Always have. When I was a very small child I'd take my little red wagon and trundle down to the public library and load it up with picture books. Later, as a middle school student, I'd sneak out of my room after I'd gone to bed, and read by the hall light until I heard my parents coming up the stairs. I would read three or four books a week. Science fiction. Biographies. Classics like The Grapes of Wrath. My tastes were quite eclectic.

They still are. While my schedule doesn't usually allow me to read at my childhood pace. I often have two or three books going at once--often a novel, a professional book and something devotional. Right now I'm reading Ron Chernow's Washington: A Life, a volume on Mormonism and Michael Card's book on the Gospel of Luke.

On our coffee table at home, and on the credenza behind my desk here at the office are two stacks of books waiting to be read. Some of them that make their way onto my stack are ones I buy myself. Some are library books. Others were gifts. Still otehrs have been lent to me by folks who think I'll enjoy them.

The challenge, when you are a reader, is not only choosing what to read, but recognizing you'll never read it all. That, can be a cause for frustration, or a cause for rejoicing! You can get depressed about all that you are missing--or you can celebrate all you have found!

Come to think of it, life often works that way, doesn't it.

Happy reading!

Autumn Leaves and Other Observations

2011-11-01T14:06:00.003-04:00

I am writing this week from Columbia Theological Seminary in northern Georgia. I am here as a Guthrie Scholar, spending time considering the relationship between sabbath and retirement. In particular, I am exploring what it means to take sabbath rest in retirement. After all, many folks would say retirement is a 24/7 sabbath!

Some of my time is being spent in independent study. But I am also afforded the chance to sit in on several presentations by Wayne Muller, the author of several books, including Sabbath: Finding Rest, Renewal and Delight in Our Busy Lives.

One of the exercises Wayne asked us to engage in involved what he called a "twenty minute sabbath". Its a beautiful, cool fall day here--and so he asked us to go outside and take a slow walk simply observing the world around us. We weren't supposed to be going anywhere or doing anything--we were just being present to that which was all around us.

Since I moved to Florida two years ago, I've been telling folks the only thing I really miss about being up north is autumn. Sunday, when I arrived here in Decatur and saw the trees I realized most of them are oaks, and therefore various shades of brown and yellow. Not the vibrant hues of maples in Vermont or Connecticut! So I dismissed the whole scene as somehow a sub par version of fall.

This morning though, as I wandered the campus during our twenty minute sabbath, I took time to really look--to really see. And I realized I had been wrong. While the trees were not the maples of Vermont, they were beautiful. Indeed, autumn at its glorious best! Here I had been presented with a chance to experience fall, and I almost missed it. I almost went back home to Florida without enjoying the seasonal splendour I so love! Just because I had narrowed my range of vision. Just because I wasn't really seeing what was right in front of me all along.

Kind of scary, really. Makes me wonder what else I'm missing in life!

All In Favor

2011-10-27T08:44:00.003-04:00

Being citizens of a democracy we like to vote on all sorts of matters. We vote for candidates for political office. We vote for singers and dancers on reality shows. We vote for our favorite movies and television shows and bedtime snacks. And some of us, in faith communities with congregational polity, even vote for our spiritual leaders. So I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised when I read in yesterday's New York Times (10-26-11) that there is now a movement afoot to vote on amendments to various state constitutions that would establish the legal definition of the beginning of human life.

Called the personhood movement, it appears to be most advanced in Mississippi, where anti-abortion forces have banded together to place a proposition on the ballot that amends the constitution of that state to read "the term 'person' or 'persons' shall include every human being from the moment of fertilization, cloning or the functional equivalent." This amendment, presented as Proposition 26, would thereby criminalize all abortions. Even those involving rape or incest. Even those involving ectopic pregnancies. One of the ironies of the amendment, according to scientist Randall Hines, who is cited in the Times article, is the simple fact that, in his words, "the majority of fertilized eggs don't become people" because they never implant in the uterus! (New York Times, 10-26-11, A-16)

I was alarmed, though not really surprised, to read in the same article that there is an attempt here in Florida to introduce similar legislation. I will need to follow up on it.

The whole personhood movement strikes me, however, as rather illogical. After all, those who are promoting such measures as Proposition 26 are opposed to women exercising any choice when it comes to abortion. And most who are opposed to abortion would argue that we have no right to choose, because to do so interferes with divine prerogative. Yet in the very method they are using, voting, they are relying on voters making choices about when life begins. They are suggesting it is a matter not of divine prerogative, but rather majority rule.

If anti-abortion folks believe God has said abortion is wrong, then for them it is wrong. It doesn't matter what voters might say. But protecting their right to believe that way and to act on such beliefs requires protecting the rights of others to believe and act else wise.

There are some things that just shouldn't be subject to a vote. There are some things that must remain a matter of personal choice. And in our nation, those things must include those matter rooted in religious convictions.

Calculating Costs in a Time of War

2011-10-17T11:41:00.003-04:00

This month marks the tenth anniversary of the war in Afghanistan. Three of my four grandchildren have been born during that time span--and even my oldest, who is almost eleven, can't remember a time when we weren't fighting in that far off land.

Many people have claimed that our current fiscal mess, is at least in part, attributable to the costs of the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. It makes sense to me, but I thought I'd do a little poking around to see what I could find out in terms of raw statistics.

It seems that the cost to date of the war in Afghanistan runs to something over $465 billion dollars (www.costofwar.com) In an article published last fall, it was noted that the cost per year per soldier is estimated (depending on source) to be anything ranging from $425,000 to $1,000,000. (Wall Street Journal, 9-8-10) That, of course, includes far, far more than a soldier's salary--still it's interesting to note that the median salary of a teacher, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, ranged from $47,100 to $51, 180 in May of 2008, and for fire fighters in the same year, the median salary stood at $44,260. How many teachers and firefighters might still have their jobs if we had not been at war? The costs of war are not just financial!

Of course the ultimate cost of the war in Afghanistan, is measured not in dollars, but rather in lives. As of October 10, 1,788 U.S. service members have been killed in the war. (New York Times, 10-11-11) In addition, close to 1,000 Coalition troops from over two dozen countries have also died. (www.cnn.com) And then there are the much harder to count Afghan deaths, both civilian and military.

Has it been worth it? The experts claim it is far from over, by the way. Many, many more dollars will be spent. There will be more deaths. We rightly honor those who serve, and especially those who have given even their lives to the cause. But does that mean we continue on? On this tenth anniversary, I leave that to you to judge for yourself. I just hope there does come a time when my grandchildren can experience our nation in a time of peace.

Mormons, Catholics and Me

2011-10-10T10:25:00.004-04:00

Over the weekend a candidate's introduction made at the Values Voter Summit by the Rev. Dr. Robert Jeffress, raised two questions that have dominated the news for the last couple of days: "Are Mormons Christians?" and "Is Mormonism a cult?" While these are controversial questions, I was even more taken by another question that surfaced in the Texas pastor's remarks. "Do we want a candidate," he asked his audience, "who is a good, moral person--or one who is a born again follower of the lord Jesus Christ?" Jeffress obviously assumes that a born again follower of Christ is a good moral person. And considering his audience, it was intended to be a rhetorical question. But here's the problem: such a question runs contrary to the spirit, though not the letter, of the law.

I looked it up to be sure I remembered it correctly. And I did. The last part of Article VI of the Constitution of the United States clearly reads "no religious Test shall ever be required as a qualification to any Office or public Trust under the United States." In other words, no law or regulation can require any office holder to be of a particular religious persuasion. I realize that doesn't rule out bringing personal preferences to bear on ones decisions as a voter. Still, in a pluralistic democracy such as ours, the wise voter recognizes that the best woman or man for the job may or may not be a coreligionist! Being a good Christian doesn't necessarily mean one would make a good president.

Maybe its time to revisit the speech John Kennedy made to a group of Protestant ministers in Houston who were challenging his candidacy based on the fact that he was a Roman Catholic. In that stirring defense of the separation of church and state, Kennedy spoke of the presidency as "a great office that must neither be humbled by making it the instrument of any one religious group nor tarnished by arbitrarily withholding its occupancy from the members of any one religious group . . . ." Protecting the right of Roman Catholics and Mormons and Jehovah's Witnesses to hold office protects the right of all to hold office. To do otherwise would be a great tragedy. Speaking of his fellow Roman Catholics, Kennedy went on to say "if this election is decided on the basis that 40 million Americans lost their chance of being president on the day they were baptized, then it is the whole nation that will be the loser . . . ." What was true in 1960 is still true today--for Catholics, Mormons and Protestants like me.

(The full text of Kennedy's speech can be found at:
www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=16920600)

Of Dulcimers and Mothers

2011-10-03T14:52:00.005-04:00

Its time for the Daniel Boone Festival in Knox County, Kentucky. That's where my mother lives--and its one of her favorite times of year. The week-long celebration features all manner of down home festivities and treats, including a good dose of folk music. Not the Peter, Paul and Mary kind of folk music (much as I love it!) but real, home-made, folk music.

My mother cared for my disabled father for seventeen years before he died back in 2009. Two years before then she decided, at the age of seventy-four, to try something new. She's always been touched by the plaintive sound of the dulcimer, a stringed instrument which figures prominently in Appalachian music. So she took a few lessons. Then she had a dulcimer made for her by a man named Lloyd Graham. It's a lovely piece of work--its cheery wood fairly sparkles! She calls it Anna.

In time mother joined a dulcimer group called, I'm not making this up, the Knox County Porch Pickers. They'll be playing at a quilt exhibit this week at the festival.

The day after my father's Memorial Service, mother assembled us all, my brothers and sister and our families, in her living room for a bit of a recital. She started by playing "My Shepherd Will Supply My Need," Isaac Watts paraphrase of the 23rd Psalm. "I always start with that when I practice," she said. It is, I am sure, her musical prayer. Then she played "Red River Valley" and "Spotted Pony" and "Carry Me Back to Old Virginny." Finally, she wound up playing a piece called "Southwind." It's called that," she said, "because of the way you play it, like this." And then she demonstrated a strumming of the strings that, indeed, sounded like the wind. She almost seemed in another world as she played it.

As her fingers ran across the strings, emitting their lovely tones, I couldn't help but think how those same fingers had tended my father's aches and pains and over the decades, had prepared his favorite meals. How those same fingers caressed his cheek, even when he could do nothing to respond. And how for over fifty-six years, those fingers had been entwined with his in alove that reflected the very love of God.

All that from a little concert on the dulcimer! Amazing! Amazing grace indeed.

Happy Daniel Boone Week, Mom! Might you strum for years to come!

(Photo Credit: Doreen Birdsell)

Just a Nice, Lazy Story

2011-09-26T15:46:00.003-04:00

This blog isn't intended to be a travelogue, but I just can't help but write about the visit my wife and I made this past Saturday with another couple to Cabbage Key. It's a small, mostly undeveloped island in Pine Island Sound, not far from Sanibel, and it is only accessible by boat. It is home to the Cabbage Key Inn where, according to local legend, Jimmy Buffett was inspired to write "Cheeseburger in Paradise." I had a burger (though without the cheese) while we were there. It was quite good, if not inspiring!

We had a very pleasant trip over to the island on one of the local island-hopping tour boats. We were regaled along the way with a plethora of facts and figures related to our journey, including the tale of the Dollar Bill Bar.

The Dollar Bill Bar is located at the Inn, and is noteworthy for the thousands and thousands of dollar bills tacked to the walls and the ceilings. Each one has been signed by a tourist, a fisherman, or some other customer (including the aforementioned Jimmy Buffett--his warrants a frame!) Apparently back in the early days of the bar (which was opened in 1944) a fisherman signed a dollar bill and affixed it to the wall to make certain he had money for a drink when he returned. Today the owners estimate that as many as 70,000 bills adorn the bar. And each year, about 10,000 fall off the ceiling and the walls and are donated to charity.

When I heard that story, I said, "Now there's a sermon illustration!" And maybe it is. But then again, maybe not Maybe it's just a nice story. One that should be allowed to stand on its own. No real moral, no real point. Just a nice, lazy story about a nice, lazy island off Florida's Gulf Coast. How perfect! For as the gentle breezes washed over our faces on the boat ride back home, I realized we'd had a nice, lazy day.

A Matter of Right and Wrong

2011-09-19T11:25:00.003-04:00

When it comes to the death penalty, the polls conducted annually by the Gallup organization suggest I am in a minority. While I am opposed to capital punishment, last fall 64% of those surveyed answered yes to the question "Are you in favor of the death penalty for a person convicted of murder?" (http://www.gallup.com/) I suspect that won't change dramatically when Gallup releases the results of their crime-related poll this fall. It's been like that for many years now. And while I disagree with the majority opinion, I respect that others may feel differently. But I do not respect cheering for executions, which is exactly what happened last week at a presidential debate held at the Ronald Reagan Library in California.

The moderator of the debate, Brian Williams, asked one of the candidates, Texas governor Rick Perry, a question related to the 234 executions that have happened in that state. The question itself, prompted applause from the the audience. The governor then responded and very somberly said that if you come into Texas and commit certain murders, "you will face ultimate justice . . . you will be executed." This time the crowd not only applauded, but some whistled and others cheered. I was appalled. I felt like we'd ended up back at a hanging in the old West!

When is it ever appropriate to cheer someone being killed? Taking a human life, even if you feel it is justified, which proponents of the death penalty do, is still a sad and sickening thing. When someone is executed it is society's way of saying that the precious gift of life has been wasted on evil actions. It is not a moment for cheering, it is a time for reflection.

It is interesting to note that in a 1981 speech given by then President Reagan, he spoke at some length about the death penalty. Make no mistake, he was a supporter of capital punishment, and I for one disagree with some of his conclusions in that speech. But at least one thing he said is well worth remembering today: "Right and wrong matters." (Public Papers of the Presidents, Reagan, 1981) I agree. And murder is clearly wrong. No question. And those who commit it must be punished. But cheering someone's death, no matter how heinous their crimes, is also wrong.

2012 and Beyond

2011-09-12T10:49:00.003-04:00

My oldest grandson, Zak, who's ten had been hearing some of the talk about 2012. Not the national elections, but rather the predictions based on the Mayan calendar that the apocalypse will come at that time. (I realize some folks think that, depending on the outcome, those two things may be one and the same!) Anyway, Zak asked his grandmother if she thought the world was going to end next year.

"Oh no, honey, I really don't think so," she said.

"Oh, that's a relief," he said.

"Why do you say that?" asked his grandmother.

"I really want to get my license!"

Zak is only ten--so we can excuse his narrow focus! But as I've thought about that exchange, I realize, there are a whole lot of us older folks, so-called adults, who operate in much the same way. Indeed we only seem to worry about things when they impact us in a very personal way.

Only when we lose our jobs do we consider the flaws in our economic system. Only when we are without health care do we think about the ineffectiveness of our patchwork of methods for paying for it. Only when we have a son or daughter or spouse in the military do we consider the real costs of our long term wars in Afghanistan and Iraq.

I suppose it is, to some extent, simply human nature. But ultimately, we need to move past our narrow self-interested foci and address the many issues before us collectively. We need to rise above our differences and work together for the common good. For ultimately, what's good for all is that which will be best for each of us as individuals.

Zak's not due to get his license for a few years yet. Maybe by then, assuming the Mayans are wrong, we will have begun to work on some of these issues.

"

Thank God for Work!

2011-09-06T13:34:00.004-04:00

Labor Day has come and gone. But I'm still thinking about work.

When I was a youngster--and to this day--almost every meal began with our saying grace. Usually we would all recite a memorized prayer together. But once in a while one of us children would say grace. Our prayers were all quite simple and were usually a list of thank yous. Thank you God for this day. Thank you God for the sun. And so on.

I have been told of a grace I said when I was very young in which, looking over the Thanksgiving table spread with the bounty of the feast, I proceeded to pray: "Thank you God for the olives, the pickles, the turkey, the cranberries, the potatoes, the stuffing, the gravy, the peas, the knives the forks, the glasses and the plates. Amen." Indeed, It was a pretty inclusive prayer! But I don't think, in my youthful zeal, I ever thought to thank God for work. Indeed, only as an adult have I realized how grateful I am for gainful and meaningful employment.

I guess Labor Day got me thinking about it. With high unemployment rates, you have to be grateful for any work, I suppose. But when you have work that is fulfilling, meaningful, purposeful, you can't help but feel doubly blessed! I guess that's what people mean when they say I have a calling.

But it's not just preachers who have a calling. I believe we all have a calling. I believe God has a purpose for each and every person. And when we discover that calling, and act on it, then we become a part of God's ongoing act of creation. We share in God's good work. And when we see ourselves as co-workers with the Creator, we have a real sense of self-worth and identity.

I realize, not everyone is as fortunate as I am. Not everyone has work--much less a sense of calling. Sometimes societal and economic barriers stand in the way. But I am convinced we can

break down those barriers. I am convinced that we can move towards full employment and meaningful employment for all. If we only are willing to make it a priority. That just might make Labor Day more than just another Monday holiday.

Chasing Irene

2011-08-29T17:30:00.001-04:00

OK--so Linda and I go on vacation and head north. Places like Michigan, New York and Massachusetts. We figure we'll escape some of Florida's summer heat and humidity for a little while, and we won't be looking over our shoulders for hurricanes.

Well, it has been cooler! But as for the hurricanes . . . .

When I first heard reports about a tropical storm named Irene heading for our shores, I began to worry about the folks back home in Fort Myers and Sanibel. Little did I imagine we'd get caught in the middle of it! But so it was. As we hunkered down at our daughter's home outside of Boston, we watched and waited as the winds and rains grew in intensity. It wasn't quite a hurricane when it reached us, but it still knocked down some nearby tree limbs, and flooded the floor of the passenger side of our car. The city transportation system was closed down for the day. Many churches canceled their services. And we ended up altering our plans to go to Martha's Vineyard.

All that said, though, it wasn't much more (for us) than a major inconvenience.

But others were not so fortunate. According to the Boston Globe, 650,000 customers in Massachusetts lost power. And many, many more along the East Coast. Experts estimate that the storm caused over 7 billion dollars in damage. And worst of all 21 folks lost their lives.

On this sixth anniversary of Hurricane Katrina, things seem to pale in comparison. Yet, if you lost power, if you lost property, if your loved one lost his or her life, comparisons don't really matter, do they? And to those who complain we "over prepared" I say, thank God you are still able to complain!

Collecting Billboards

2011-08-22T16:56:00.008-04:00

My wife Linda and I are on a road trip, and part of the drive took us right through the heart of Dixie: northern Florida, Georgia, Tennessee, Kentucky . . . and all along the way there were billboards. Lots and lots of billboards. Despite television and the Internet, there are many folks, apparently, who still want to get their message across the old-fashioned way!

There are, of course, all sorts of billboards advertising services for travelers: fast-food joints, motels, and so on. My favorite motel billboard along the way promoted a "midnight rate" available after 9:00 PM. Why not call it the nine o'clock rate?

I was surprised, considering the part of the country through which we were traveling, at the number of billboards advertising so-called adult bookstores, video stores and so on. There were several signs for Cafe Risque, a few for the Lion's Den Adult Superstore, and one for a club with strippers "as featured on the Jerry Springer show!" Now there's an endorsement I'd want to avoid! And would someone please explain to me why anyone would promote a liquor store with a drive-thru?

I saw lots of billboards for medical services. There was one offering hair transplants for "$2 a graft" (it would cost me a small fortune!) Then there was the Georgia Dental Center that had a sale going on with "half-price implants." (I just don't think I'd ever buy discounted teeth!) And in an example of extremely poor taste (I'm not making this up) there was a billboard for the Amputee Prosthetic Clinic with a over sized picture of Captain Hook!

Religion is also present on these roadside signs. I spotted many anti-abortion billboards. But there was an occasional liberal message. One I especially liked suggested using Desmond Tutu as a model for living. There was a sign that simply said, "The Way, the Truth, the Life . . . Jesus Christ." And then one designed to provoke the viewer. "HELL" it said in large letters. Then, in a smaller font: " I haven't thought about that lately . . . ."

I'm not sure what all these billboards say about the south, or America for that matter. But while they make for some interesting reading, the best billboards ended up being the ones that weren't there. For America, despite being spoiled in spots by too much signage, is indeed, a beautiful country!

Deep in the Soul of Texas

2011-08-08T13:23:00.004-04:00

I am deeply troubled by last Saturday's prayer rally called The Response held at Reliant Stadium in Houston. Not because of the rally itself. Not that it reflected my own theology. It didn't. But that's not a real problem. After all, as they say, this is America and, thank God, we are free to believe as we choose. So while I cannot subscribe to the idea that a significant part of the population is consigned to damnation--one of the tenets in the statement of faith posted by The Response on their website--I defend the right of others to hold such beliefs.

No, what bothered me about the rally was the fact that it was initiated and basically hosted by a sitting governor, Rick Perry of Texas. Don't misunderstand. I have no issue with the fact that the Governor is a man of faith. I have no issue with his letting his religious views be known by others. And I would assume as he makes various decisions he will consider things in light of his own beliefs, religious or otherwise. But using his bully pulpit as a literal pulpit crosses the line.

I looked over the website for The Response. There is no question, it was a Christian event--and a very narrowly defined version of Christian at that. The home page of the website even has a virtual altar call. "The call to repentance and a lifestyle of worship," it reads, "does not end with an event, but rather begins with that moment when we say 'yes' to Jesus." (http://www.theresponseusa.com/) Viewers of the site are then invited to click further if they want to make a commitment. In the opposite column on the homepage, one finds the prayer that Governor Perry offered at the rally.

Listen, I'm a Christian. I love Jesus. Really! I pray every day. My staff and I pray every weekday morning for our nation. And I would suggest all Christians are called to do the same! Including the Governor of Texas! But Rick Perry isn't just the governor of Texans who consider themselves to be Christians--no more than I'm just the pastor of those parishioners who hold my political views. Its bigger than that for both of us. I'm the pastor of Republicans and Democrats and Independents and folks who've give up on the system all together. And Rick Perry is the Governor of Roman Catholics and Muslims and Buddhists and whether he likes it or not atheists as well. As such, he needs to bend over backwards to make room for all people in his vision of Texas--and of America. Frankly, I don't think that happened on Saturday. And that's what bothered me about the rally.

August Weeds--August Flowers

2011-08-01T13:55:00.004-04:00

When I think of August, one of the images that comes to mind is that of Queen Anne's Lace. Daucus carota. Wild carrot. As a boy, our family vacations always happened in August, and the fields and roadways of Vermont where we spent the month were covered with the feathery white weed. I didn't suffer from allergies back then, so they were a pure joy. My brother and I would pick handfuls of them and present them to my Mother, who always received them with the same acclaim she welcomed roses delivered by the florist for her birthday.

I looked up Queen Anne's Lace on the internet (don't you just love Wikipedia?) and discovered it is considered a beneficial weed. Apparently, at least in some settings, it provides an alternative target for predatory wasps, thus protecting the other plants. It can also create shade and a bit of cooling for other crops.

I really like that idea--a beneficial weed. Usually we think of weeds as useless at best, a a menace at worst. Weeds are for pulling out. Weeds are for throwing in the compost heap, or the backyard burning barrel. But who's to say what's a weed and what's not? As a boy, I thought Queen Anne's Lace was one of the most beautiful flowers on God's planet--or at least in Vermont. Truth be told, I still do!

We are often quick to label people as weeds as well. We relegate them to the scrap heaps of life without giving them a second thought or a second look. The physically disabled, the mentally challenged, those of differing sexual orientations, people of other races, other religions, other nationalities. But when we do so, our lives are made poorer for it. And we miss out on gifts, benefits such souls they have to offer to offer society.

I'm traveling up north later this month--I'll even have a day or two in Vermont. I'll be watching for the Queen Anne's Lace. But you needn't go to New England to find beneficial weeds!

(Photo Credit: Jason Parker-Burlingame, www.flickr.com/photos/nooks/98572324/)

Reaching for the Stars

2011-07-25T14:53:00.004-04:00

Last Thursday, at approximately 5:50 AM I was awoken by a loud boom--actually, a double boom, as the last space shuttle, the Atlantis, passed over Southwest Florida on it's way to landing on the East Coast. My wife Linda and I immediately got out of bed, turned on the television and watched the picture perfect touchdown. I must admit, I shed a tear or two as the shuttle taxied to a stop. "This is it," I thought to myself, "the end of an era." (Hey, who's very original at 6:15 in the morning?) But, truly, it was the end of an era--and the end of many jobs here in Florida, in Texas and elsewhere I'm sure.

Over the years I have heard many of my fellow liberals complain about the space program. "Why can't we spend that money feeding the hungry? Why can't we use it to house the homeless and provide medicine for the sick? Shouldn't we take care of things here on earth before we worry about outer space?" And, a part of me, of course, agrees. Our priorities are out of whack. We are letting the poor and the destitute slip through the cracks. But, personally, I'd rather see us look elsewhere for the money. Rather than dismantling the space program, I like to see us stop spending billions and billions of dollars fighting wars that seem to have no purpose and no end. I'd rather see those dollars go to feeding the hungry and tending to the sick.

I know it's not as simple as that. But then again, maybe it is. Maybe it is as simple as saying we want to place an emphasis as a nation on those things that will help us be better people. And, as cliched as it is to say the space program helped us reach for the stars, it is also true. Literally and figuratively.

I understand that we're thinking about traveling to asteroids or Mars or maybe the moon again. And I hope we do. I hope we recapture the wonder of exploring the heavens. But more than that, I hope the end of the shuttle program causes us to stop and rethink our priorities as a nation. Maybe, if we had a better handle on that which is truly important, the wrangling over budgets and debt ceilings that we're witnessing in Washington these days would come to an end. Call me star struck if you must--but I refuse to give up hope!

(Photo Credit: www.flickr.com/photos/rllacey/3866183859/)

The Sanibel Rebellion

2011-07-18T15:00:00.003-04:00

The City of Sanibel started with a rebellion. OK--not an armed overthrow or anything like that. Nobody dumped boxes of tea in Tarpon Bay. But back in the early seventies Sanibel was still an unincorporated part of Lee County, and it appeared the island was headed for the kind of development that is seen all up and down the Gulf Coast. Hi-rise condos along the beaches, heavy traffic, sprawling resorts, fast-food franchises and so on.

But the residents of Sanibel wanted to preserve not only the character of the island, but also the ecology of the island. They didn't want hi-rises. They didn't want to be swamped with the projected 90,000 residents. Rather, they wanted to protect the wildlife and natural habitats that make this place so special. So they rebelled--in a manner of speaking, and mounted a campaign to become in independent municipality. As one of the founding mothers of Sanibel, Grace Whitehead, once said, "The county considered the citizens of Sanibel to be like the colonists who revolted against Mother England."

After much effort, it happened. In 1974, Sanibel became a legal entity. A city. A self-governed municipality capable of laying out its own rules and regulations for how land was or was not to be used. And it worked. Today, over 65% of Sanibel is undeveloped, protected land. Just this winter the Sanibel-Captiva Conservation Fund raised over five million dollars to add another 28.3 acres to that total.

But none of this would have happened without a plan. A city plan. A well-thought out approach to how the properties of the island would be used, managed and protected. It is, sometimes, a rather contentious plan. Public meetings on Sanibel are just that, public. And a concerned and well-educated population isn't afraid to voice its opinions! But it is a plan that works. And Sanibel, this island of ecological wonders, remains just that!

So, with great gratitude to all those who dreamed of the plan, all those who continue to refine the plan, and all those who fight to maintain the character of the plan, Happy Anniversary! In its original form, the plan was first adopted July 19, 1976--two years after the "rebellion"!

First, Last and Only Words About the Anthony Trial

2011-07-11T12:51:00.005-04:00

I'm not sure why I'm allowing myself to be sucked into the Casey Anthony stuff--but here goes.

There are far more important issues for us to be tending to these days. The national debt ceiling, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, the unemployment rate, global warming--the list is endless of problems and concerns that should be the focus of our attention. But they are not. For some reason, this summer we Americans have been caught up in the trial of a woman accused of killing her daughter. Perhaps it is pure escapism. Perhaps it is a way for us to set aside the real issues of the day.

Don't misunderstand. It is truly tragic that this family has been rent asunder by this event, by charges and counter-charges. And it is even more tragic that a young life was cut short. But it happens all the time. Children die every day. And some of them at the hands of their parents. If I thought the Anthony trial would help us to recognize the need to address issues like domestic violence I might not feel the way I do about it all. It is probably good that many states are looking at laws mandating the reporting of missing children, but often that is too little, too late.

So many people have taken aim at the jury, blaming them for the outcome of the trial. But those on the jury appear to have done what they were charged with doing. They appear to have given a verdict based on the evidence presented to them--and not their emotional response to the case. Still, people have expressed real anger about the not guilty verdict, and have laid the blame for it at the jury's feet.

But I wonder if the anger and frustration aimed at the jury is misdirected. I wonder if it is really pent up anger and frustration with ourselves. Why can't we solve the problems that confront us as a society? Why can't we elect officials who will cooperate and do what's best for all concerned? Why can't we truly live as a nation dedicated to liberty and justice for all?

That's it. That's all I'll say. These are my first, last and only words about the Anthony trial. Now let's move on. America, indeed the world, needs are energy and attention for other things.

Technology and the Church

2011-07-05T14:16:00.005-04:00

This weekend my denomination, the United Church of Christ (UCC), held it's bienniel national gathering called General Synod. Delegates from all across the country gathered in Tampa, Florida, about 2 1/2 hours north of here, to worship and study, as well as to debate and vote on a variety of issues including a major effort to restructure the governance of the denomination at the national level. I attended part of the gathering, and enjoyed it immensly!

Like most of these gatherings though, the most important part of of it turned out to be the kind of stuff that doesn't show up on official agendas. I had lunch with a friend from Japan who I hadn't seen in two or three years; dinner with a young clergyperson from New York I had mentored, and chance meetings with folks from many different parts of my life. Call it what you will, fellowship, networking, reconnecting, it all amounts to a very tangible reminder that that nothing can really take the place of face-to-face encounters!

This General Synod there was an even greater emphasis on virtual connections. The denominations website was used extensively before the event to orient delegates. Local churches were encouraged to have a Facebook presence. At one worship service we were even asked to look up a candle app on our smart phones and wave those in the air like we used to wave real candles.

Obviously, as a blogger, I have no major issue with using technology to help advance the cause! And, frankly, things like Facebook and e-mail, allow me to stay in touch with younger members of my family, nieces and nephews, in a much better ways than in the past. And being the pastor of a church with literally hundreds of snowbirds, it does allow me to stay better connected with folks who travel north for the summer. Still . . . it's not the same as being with them in person. I don't know about you, but I find it hard to laptop!

I'm glad the United Church of Christ encourages its members to use virtual technology. I only hope we never forget that we have an incarnational theology. Incarnation--in the flesh. We can text, e-mail, blog, tweet and blog, and Facebook (yes, it has become verb!) all we want. But let's never forget, the importance, of looking someone in the eye, the beauty of wiping away another's tears and the simple value of the holding hands and walking together along life's road!

Grandkids and Turtles and Oil

2011-06-27T10:55:00.003-04:00

It was exactly one year ago this week that I posted the first of these blog notes. I was inspired to start the blog by the oil spill in the Gulf. At that time the oil well was still pouring the slick brown fluid into the ocean, with little sign of relief. It was a pretty frightening moment for many, many people. Jobs were lost, beaches closed, marshes ruined. And no one knew when the crisis might end.

Well, it did, later last summer. And while many things have returned to normal, there are still those who are struggling to get back on their feet. And while the Gulf seems to be doing much, much better, there are those who wonder if we just can't see ongoing damage.

I was struck by the lead article in the Sarasota newspaper this past Friday, that reported greatly increased bookings at resorts and hotels on Siesta Key, another coastal island to the north of us on the Gulf. The beach had been named the #1 beach in the country by Stephen "Dr. Beach" Leatherman in May, and the article suggested that the publicity resulted in the increase in business. "Last summer," the reported noted, "Siesta and other SW Florida beaches suffered from significant tourism losses amid incorrect perceptions that the area had been tainted by BP Deepwater Horizon oil." (Herald Tribune, 6-24-11)

Here on Sanibel business has also improved this spring. And that is well and good. Truly! But I worry a bit that a return to normalcy will bring with it new apathy. This past weekend the Hands Across the Sand event was held, protesting offshore drilling, and it drew a very small number of folks. Do people no longer care--or have they been lulled into complacency?

Last year in that initial post I wrote, "I hold out hope that we can learn some valuable lessons from all this." And I still do. I still hold out hope. But in this day and age of short news cycles, I also worry a bit. I worry for my children's children, and their children as well.

Saturday, my oldest son took his two boys on a beach walk hosted by a naturalist from the Mote Aquarium in Sarasota. They all learned much as the naturalist showed them a turtle nest, measured eggs, and instructed them in how important it is to be careful of their cordoned off nests. The turtles are here on Sanibel as well. And we also have their nests cordoned off.

Unfortunately we can't cordon off the whole Gulf--but we can do a better job of taking care of it.
And we must. For the turtles, and the dolphins, and the mangroves, and the pelicans and the children. All of them.

The ABC's of Life

2011-06-20T11:10:00.004-04:00

My wife Linda and I were looking at some old pictures this weekend, when we came across some things her mother had saved from Linda's days in elementary school. Among them were her report card from kindergarten, and a certificate she received in first grade. It was complete with a gold star, and it acknowledged that she had successfully learned her ABC's.

"Isn't it amazing," I said, "today most children know their alphabet by the time they get into kindergarten! Kids learn so much more so much earlier these days!"

"I know," said Linda, "we didn't study much in kindergarten we just played and learned to share."

Later I went back and looked at that kindergarten report card again--and discovered she was right! The various things she was graded on were all listed in the first person. Things like: "I sing well with the group." "I enjoy stories." "I use materials with care." "I work and play well with others." "I keep my hands off others."

As I looked over that report card from over fifty years ago, I was reminded of an essay Robert Fulgham wrote many years ago called "All I Ever Really Needed to Know I Learned in Kindergarten." And I couldn't help but wonder if it might be a good idea to step back and reexamine our growing emphasis on academics in the earliest of years--after all, you can only do so much in the course of a day.

Maybe before children learn to recite the alphabet and count numbers and identify shapes and colors, maybe before they learn to write their names we need to make sure they are learning some of the basics needed for getting along in society and in the world. After all children who sing well with a group and who use materials with care and who keep their hands off others may just grow up to be concerned about things like living with others in peace, and caring for our planet.

And maybe, if we were to choose just one of the old categories to make certain is included in kindergarten lesson plans today, we'd do well to consider "I listen when others speak." Come to think of it, most of us adults would do well to take a refresher course in that one.

(Photo: Linda Bradbury-Danner on her fifth birthday, just before starting kindergarten.)

No More Cards

2011-06-13T13:41:00.004-04:00

I was in the card store recently and I suddenly realized I don't need to buy any Father's Day cards this year. My grandfathers have been gone for many years now; my father-in-law almost three, and my own Dad died a year ago last September. It was a funny feeling as I stood in the aisle realizing that as the oldest son I'm the patriarch in my family.

I didn't know either of my grandfathers very well, but I suspect they were pretty special. My mother's Dad loved Dickens, he even owned a set of his complete works. I have it now, onn the top shelf of one of my bookcases. I love Dickens--and I love to read. Something got through to me!

My father's Dad was a bit of an enigma to me. I only met him two or three times over the years. He lived in Florida all his life--but on the other coast. Mostly in West Palm Beach. I've lived in the Northeast most all of my life. Heavens, I was born in Bangor, Maine and have degrees from places like Boston University. You don't get more yankee than that! Still, moving here does feel like something of a homecoming!

My father-in-law was a lovely guy. He was kind and quietly supportive. He loved a cup of coffee with a donut, and ate candy like it was going out of style! He was a hard worker throughout his life, holding down a job well past retirement. And he volunteered at his church, with the Boy Scouts and for the local meals-on-wheels program where he lived. And the man knew how to hug! I was privileged to have him in my life for almost twenty-five years.

And then there was my own Dad. He was a preacher too. And while we often disagreed about theology, and sometimes about politics, he always really listened to what I had to say. He didn't just blow me off. Other than a few conversations in my teen years, our discussions were always marked by real civility and mutual respect. And I never once doubted if he loved me. He loved God, my mother, his four children, the church, ice cream, Scotland and licorice, probably in that order. Some days I miss him so much I almost cry. Some days I do.

No, I won't have to buy any cards for Father's Day this year. But as the family patriarch, I can make sure I pass on some of the things I learned from Dad and the others to my children and their children as well. I can pass on a love of reading, a sense of home, a good hug and a reminder that they are truly loved.

(Photo: John Danner and his father, Howard, circa 1987)

Dr. Death Is Dead

2011-06-06T10:33:00.004-04:00

Dr. Death is dead. (It sounds like something out of an Ingmar Bergman movie.) He is said to have helped over one hundred folks commit suicide, and was eventually imprisoned as a result. Apparently, though, his own demise was unassisted. And so one of the more controversial figures of the last few decades, Jack Kevorkian, has breathed his last.

The controversy he sparked, however, is far from over. And the basic question his actions prompted is as old as humankind. Do we have the right to take a life--even if it is our own? In some traditions, suicide is viewed as a mortal sin. Others see it as the result of some mental imbalance. Kevorkian asked us to see it as a viable option when life becomes fraught with incurable pain. But what if, as some contend, pain is a great teacher?

And should doctors, those sworn to preserve life, ever be involved in actively ending it? Is physician assisted suicide totally contrary to the role doctors play in our lives--or an extension of their efforts to help people cope with the physical and psychological challenges that come along the way?

I know a man who helped his father commit suicide. His father was in his late eighties at the time. He had terminal cancer and wanted to be free of the pain that wracked his body. He wanted to die with a measure of dignity. My friend loved his Dad deeply, and when he begged his son to help him die, he reluctantly agreed. He said it was the hardest thing he ever did--but he knew it was right.

Whenever my friend brings up the subject, I'm never been sure how to respond. Part of me is horrified. Part of me knows what it means to love a father so dearly you'd do most anything to help him out. Part of me says, "You shall not kill." Part of me says, "Honor your father and your mother." I just don't know. And as the various opinions and laws around the country demonstrate, neither do a lot of other folks.

Dr. Death is dead. But the controversy he engendered is, indeed, far from over.

And Miles to Go . . . .

2011-06-01T10:51:00.007-04:00

Thirty years ago this month in June of 1981 the Center for Disease Control issued a report about five young men in Los Angeles who had contracted a very rare form of pneumonia, Pneumocystis carinii pneumonia (PCP). This turned out to be the beginning of public awareness of what would in time be called AIDS.

Initially, it appeared to be an illness restricted to gay men, but it soon become clear that others could and did contract it as well. At the time, rumors, half-truths and even vicious lies were spread about the disease--and those who had it. No doubt, it was fueled by homophobia. I had one friend who was evicted from his apartment when his landlord discovered he was sick. And there were all sorts of reports of others who met the same fate or worse.

Over the years, like any preacher who takes on controversial issues, I have been criticized for taking this or that position. But I've only been publicly heckled once. I was the president of a group forming a hospice in upstate New York, and one of our board members had just lost a son to AIDS. The situation had been made all the more difficult because of the stereotypes and prejudices that faced him and his family. So I decided to speak to the issue in my keynote address at our annual meeting.

I didn't say anything that I thought was all that radical. "God doesn't punish us with heart disease," I told the audience of hospice supporters, "and gays do not 'deserve' to get AIDS." Suddenly there was some rustling at a back table in the dining room. "That's not true!" I heard someone say. "A major piece of the solution to the AIDS crisis," I went on to say, "rests in setting aside our moral judgement of gay persons." At that, the couple in the back of the room stood up. Muttering to folks as they made their way to the door, and throwing a glare in my general direction, they stormed out.

That was the late-eighties--and things have improved since that time in terms of our knowledge of and ability to treat HIV/AIDS. And homophobia, while still very real, does seem to be less rampant. Still, some one million people in this country alone have the disease--and 56,000 more contract it every year. And in other parts of the world, it is still seen in pandemic proportions.

The mother of that young man whose death prompted my speech, once told me that what bothered her most about the whole situation was the ignorance people displayed in the face of such tragedy. It bothered me too. That's why I spoke out. That's why we need to continue to speak out until the day comes when HIV/AIDS is a thing of the past.

The Second Coming--Again (and Again and Again)

2011-05-24T12:15:00.005-04:00

You've got to give Harold Camping a lot of credit. He's the radio preacher who predicted that the rapture would occur somewhere around 6:00 PM last Saturday. In the end, of course, he turned out to have been wrong--but still, he got us all talking about theology, and that, in my estimation is a good thing!

The doctrine of the rapture, a hotly debated theological concept, basically states that before the world is brought to a cataclysmic end, believers (variously defined) will be caught up into heaven and saved from the onslaught of disasters ranging from earthquakes to wars that will ensue. Frankly, I have a bit of difficulty believing in such a doctrine, it doesn't really fit into my understandings of how God works in this world. I certainly would defend the right of Camping and others to believe in it. I just can't buy it myself. But the Second Coming of Christ, that's another matter altogether. Let me explain.

Camping wants to pin it all down to a particular moment in time, but I'm more inclined to think it happens all the time! Jesus just keeps coming back again and again and again. One of his best known parables (found in Matthew 25) speaks about Judgement Day. And in that highly metaphorical account, he talks about those who are hungry or thirsty or or sick in need of clothing. Those who are judged righteous are those who provide help for those in need. In fact, he says, "Every time you did it to one of the least of these . . . you did it to me."

You see, I believe Jesus shows up in those we meet every day. The bratty kid who lives next door who needs someone to care about him. The crotchety old woman down the street who is in need of a friend. The hungry beggar on the corner who holds out a cardboard coffee cup looking for spare change. The woman with Alzheimer's who can't remember how to dress herself anymore. I believe if you see someone in need the Second Coming has happened once again.

The rapture, I suppose, is all about bringing some from earth to heaven. But I'm more inclined to believe that Christians are called to bring heaven to earth. And that doesn't involve any complicated chronological computations. Rather it means acting as if each person we encounter is Jesus.

So thanks, Mr. Camping, I might not have said all that if you hadn't started the conversation! Thanks for giving me cause to think and write about the Second Coming, even if I do believe it happens all the time!

What's in Your Mailbox?

2011-05-16T12:54:00.005-04:00

Members of our confirmation class and their mentors volunteered this past weekend to help out with the Stamp Out Hunger project. Its prompted me to think a bit about partnerships. Every year the Post Office spearheads an effort to collect food for food pantries all across the country, and they often invite others to help them in the work of gathering and sorting the food. The food itself comes from folks in the community who leave a box or bag of groceries by their mail box to be picked up by mail carriers or other volunteers, like our confirmands. There is a corporate sponsor, the letter carriers union supports the effort. Its really a pretty good example of partnership: private citizens, a quasi-governmental organization, not-for-profit service providers, labor unions, businesses and even church groups like ours, all working together to feed the hungry. Last year, according to the Stamp Out Hunger website, over 77.1 million pounds of food were collected. That's a lot of groceries!

My question is pretty simple. Why do we have so much difficulty forming such coalitions? Why do we find it so hard to work across the various lines that divide us? We need to get our collective act together and work together to eliminate the need for food drives and food pantries and Stamp Out Hunger Day. We need take advantage of the various strengths each sector of society brings to the table to address the pressing issues of the day. For clearly, when we do, we can accomplish great things!

I'd love to hear from you about other such partnerships. Maybe with more examples of such successes, folks will find the courage to step out of the comfort zone of their own ideas and organizations, and into the greater arena of cooperation!

(Photo Credit: Patti Sousa)

Hidden in the Heart

2011-05-09T11:39:00.004-04:00

There was a terrible accident here this past weekend. A cyclist crossing the causeway was hit by a truck that had veered into the opposite lane. She was an experienced cyclist, riding a familiar rote. But the blow was too great to handle, and she flew off her bike and over the railing into the water. She was pronounced dead on the scene.

When it happened Saturday morning, traffic was shut down in both directions for about two hours. No one could get on the island, no one could get off. Finally, when officials were done with their investigation, things opened back up, and soon, traffic patterns returned to normal. But for those involved in the accident, and for their families, things may never return to normal.

As we move through life, we often forget that those we encounter along life's way may be caught in the midst of one tragedy or another. How many people who we meet each day are quietly, even at times secretly, grieving one loss or another? Yet, they find themselves caught up in the flow of of so-called normal life! And so, go unrecognized and unsupported in their grief.

I have a therapist friend who once said, "You know John, 'normal' is just a setting on washing machines." He was right. There isn't really any such thing as normal. Every life is full of its own particularities. I suspect if we remembered that simple fact we'd all be better off. We'd all be a bit more patient with those around us.

Today, as one who has ridden on his bike across the causeway many times, I can't help but feel real sadness for the cyclist and her family. And, as one who has driven across the causeway even more times, I feel real sadness for the driver as well. And then there are the EMTs and the police officers and those who witnessed the accident. So many lives touched and changed in an instant. So many folks who will carry its scars for years to come. And that's just one accident.

If nothing else, might it remind us all to be a bit more patient, a bit more gentle, a bit more kind with those we meet--for who knows what lies hidden in their hearts?

Thinking of Jennifer

2011-05-02T11:16:00.005-04:00

All morning I've been thinking about Jennifer. She was a young friend and parishioner of mine who died in the collapse of the World Trade Center on 9/11. She was an extraordinary young woman, with a bright future. She was in her late twenties, and had survived a life threatening bout with cancer. She was newly in love, and looking forward to a life filled with adventure.

Jennifer was also a deeply spiritual soul. I met with her often during the time she dealt with her illness. I shall never forget the day she looked at me with real conviction in her eyes and said, "If I should die from cancer, just let everyone know I don't blame God." It was such a mature remark from one so young!

Of course, it wasn't cancer that took her life, but rather hatred and violence.

I've been thinking about Jennifer, because I'm not sure how to think about Osama bin Laden. I don't know how to respond to his death. I ended up conducting three funerals for victims of the 9/11 attacks. And, living in metropolitan New York, I experienced first hand the chaos, confusion and fear that was rampant in those first months after the airplanes hit the towers. And like all Americans, I know how those actions have forever changed our way of living.

Like a 9/11 victim's family member I heard interviewed on television this morning, I am relieved that Osama bin Laden has been taken out of the picture. I am grateful to those who risked their lives to do so. Justice has been served, and that is good. But I don't see any of this as cause for celebration.

When it finally became clear that Jennifer had indeed died in the conflagration on 9/11, we had a Memorial Service and celebrated her life. That was appropriate. Her life was well worth celebrating. But Osama bin Laden's death is no cause for celebration. Rather, it is a cause for deep sadness. For it reminds us once again of the violence that is so real and present in our world. It reminds us of the hatred that is so much a part of life on planet Earth.

So I'm relieved. I'm grateful. I'm glad justice has been served. But I'm not celebrating today. Rather I am renewing my commitment to working for peace in our world. I think that's what Jennifer would have done.

No More Yellow Stars

2011-04-26T14:32:00.005-04:00

This coming Sunday is Yom HaShoah, Holocaust Remembrance Day. It is a time set aside to recall the horror of the Holocaust so that we might work to see that it is not repeated.

Hitler and his cronies managed to convince many, many people that Jews were somehow less than fully human--that they threatened the well-being of the state. The way, the Nazis argued, to protect the state was to isolate the Jews. So over a period of only a few years, various laws were passed which created a very clearly second-class citizenship for Jews. And to make certain everyone knew who the Jews were, each and every Jewish individual was required to wear a yellow star of David.

A yellow star may seem a little thing, but it led, eventually to Auschwitz. And so the question we must ask, if we are to learn anything from all this, is where are the yellow stars in our lives? Where and how are we labeling and branding people? What divides us one from the other.

One of the many films that documents part of the story of the Holocaust is The Hiding Place. It is the story of a Christian Dutch family named ten Boom that hid Jews during World War II and helped them escape from Nazi persecution.

The early part of the film documents the Nazi invasion of the Netherlands and shows how the anti-Semitic policies of Hitler were put in place. In one scene the camera zooms in on a line of people waiting to receive their yellow star. Standing in the line is Papa ten Boom--but he is a Christian. Standing beside him is one of his Jewish neighbors. He turns to Papa ten Boom and says, "You shouldn't be here."

Ten Boom replies, "I've come for my star."

"They are for Jews," says his neighbor, "You don't have a J on your card."

"You could get it for me," replies ten Boom, "If we all wear them they won't know a Gentile from a Jew."

Ten Boom did get a star--and he wore it. And, in time, he was caught rescuing Jews, and was shipped off to one of the camps where he died.

We may not be called to, as Papa ten Boom was, to risk our lives. But we are called to make meaningless the yellow stars that exist in our own day. We are called to work towards a time when all people are treated fairly and equally. Not just on Yom HaShoah, but every day.

2011-04-11T11:39:00.005-04:00

A little over a week ago, at about 4:30 PM, my wife Linda and I were in Tampa, and on our way out of the city, traveling south. We crossed the Sunshine Skyway Bridge, part of the magnificent series of bridges and causeways that cuts across Tampa Bay. As we approached the bridge, traffic was backed up, and as we drew closer we realized that there was a driver pulled over into the breakdown lane, obviously experiencing car trouble. There was very little space between his car and those of us passing to the south.

"Boy, that's a tough place to break down," I said.

"Yes," said Linda, "but its a great place to see the sunset!"

What a perfect illustration of the old adage about cups being half empty or half full! I trust the poor fellow got help fairly quickly, and didn't actually have to stay on the bridge until sunset (some three hours after we saw him!) But, if he did, I hope he was able to enjoy the beautiful view!

There are a lot of broken down cars along the road of life, a lot of times we are stranded in traffic. But the sun still rises and sets each day. The stars come out at night. The waves lap against the shore and the winds whistle in the treetops. Sometimes we are so caught up in the difficulties of life that we forget the beauty all around us. Maybe just for today, you can take a few moments to stop and look and listen. Yes, its a troubled world--but it is also a blessed world. The challenge every day is in deciding where to focus our attention!

(Photo courtesy of the City of St. Petersburg, Florida)

Fallout from the Nuclear Crisis in Japan

2011-04-04T15:22:00.007-04:00

Back in 2004, Stanford economist Paul Romer addressed a group of venture-capitalists. In his speech he noted the increased level of competition the US is facing in the world market due to the fact that education levels are rising in many countries around the world. Referring to the situation Romer said, "A crisis is a terrible thing to waste." Since then its been quoted by many, and paraphrased by others.

Well, today, in 2011, we've got another we've got a crisis on our hands, this time in Japan. The dangers presented by the problems with the nuclear reactors damaged by the earthquake there haven't even been fully calculated. No one knows for sure the extent of the damage, nor the future impact. While villages may need to be closed down. The water supply may be permanently poisoned. More people may yet die. What more needs to happen for us to realize that now, not tomorrow, is the time for us to take a serious look at the whole question of nuclear power, which in turn means, getting serious about addressing the energy issue. Yet the skeptic in me suspects this will be just one more news item that eventually gets replaced by another crisis. Like last summer's oil spill, we'll worry about it for a while, and then move on to something else.

I've been told that the Chinese word for "crisis" is made up of two characters, one that represents the word "danger"--and the other which represents "opportunity." The question is how do we view a crisis? Do we cower in the fear of danger? Do we close our eyes and pretend it isn't really happening? Or do we see a crisis an an opportunity to move in a new way? To create a new thing? Maybe its time to really embrace the fact that this is a global problem--one that ultimately can only be solved by a truly international effort.

A crisis is a terrible thing to waste. It can turn into even greater problems--but it can also cause you to stop and to think and to find the courage to move in a new direction. I pray that's what happens with this crisis. I hope that's the fallout.

A Yogi's Aches, Pains & Lessons

2011-03-28T15:46:00.005-04:00

I am a yoga practitioner. (I guess that makes me a yogi--though whenever I hear that I think of a bear from Jellystone Park .) Whatever the case, I usually take time each day to roll out my mat and engage in a variety of asanas (poses) with names like Downward Dog and Half Moon.

Recently though, I've been caught up in all the hustle and bustle of "the season"--that time of year here on Sanibel when we have more things to do than can possibly be accomplished! Our population swells to five times more than usual and things like class sizes for adult education and worship attendance follow suit. The height of season is February and March. And I've been really busy. Which brings me back to yoga.

I hadn't engaged in my daily practice for about three weeks when last Friday I decided I needed to get back to my mat. And so I did. And it felt good. Until the next morning! I woke up with a bit of stiffness here, and a measure of discomfort there. My body was telling me that I'd twisted and bent it in some ways that it wasn't used to anymore. And it had only been three weeks! The good news is that now that I'm back in the swing of it, the stiffness has disappeared. I'm readjusting. But still, there's an obvious lesson here about the need for regularity in yoga.

But I think there is another lesson as well. For I am not the first person to let go of a healthy and necessary discipline because I was "too busy". I suspect it happens often! But when are we ever truly "too busy" to take care of ourselves? The sad truth is it catches up with us pretty quickly if we don't. And getting back in the habit of good self-care can take much more time and effort than maintaining it! Let's hope that I'm smart enough to put my own theory into practice (literally!)

Or, in the words of that other Yogi (as in Berra): "In theory there is no difference between theory and practice. In practice there is."

2011-03-21T12:45:00.002-04:00

I had the good fortune to go boating twice this past weekend. Once with parishioners, and once with friends visiting from Germany. Both times we experienced wonderful weather, minimal chop and numerous wildlife sightings ranging from a variety of birds to manatees and dolphins. We came back a bit more tanned and feeling grateful for such friendships!

Both of the boats that we went out on were equipped with GPS units. But that didn't preclude the usefulness and importance of channel markers. We spent time navigating parts of the Calossahatchee River, San Carlos Bay and the canals of Cape Coral and Sanibel Island. The channel markers in their bright greens and reds, clearly show where you can safely travel, and where you need to steer clear of shallow waters, sand bars and rocks. Our two pilots were careful to pay heed to the guidance they offered--and we arrived back home safe and sound both times!

Of course, in most of the rest of life we don't have GPS units that provide us with directions--nor do we have brightly colored channel markers. In the realms of ethics and morality, in the arena of personal relationships, we can really feel adrift, wondering what course we should steer as we are confronted with the difficult choices life offers up.

Psychology reminds us of the importance of establishing personal boundaries, and religion provides moral strictures and guidelines. And such things can serve as our own personal channel markers. But just like the red and green signs that line the waters off the Florida coast, our own channel markers won't keep us safe unless we pay attention to their guidance. In the end, GPS units, channel markers, personal boundaries and moral guidelines are only helpful if we use them.

(Photo Credit: Linda Bradbury-Danner)

2011-03-14T14:33:00.002-04:00

Have you filled up your gas tank lately? I did just the other day, and despite having a small car with a small tank, I pumped almost fifty dollars worth of gas. It seemed patently absurd to spend so much for fuel! Yet most experts agree that it is the wave of the future. Ever increasing demands on an ever diminishing supply can't help but lead to more expensive energy--not just at the pump, but everywhere.

I thought about all this earlier today as I listened to a report about the precarious situation in Japan where folks are anxiously watching nuclear power plants that have been damaged by the earthquake there this past weekend. Clearly, as we exhaust the supply of fossil fuels we will need to find new sources of energy. But just as clearly, atomic power may not be the panacea we once thought it to be. While it fell from favor for a good stretch of time, it has been making a comeback in the last few years. As one news commentator mentioned this morning, it even made the State of the Union address this year. But now many will rethink it once again.

Some have suggested that wind power has the potential of being a major part of the solution. But it seems any time someone suggests putting up a wind farm somewhere, lots of people complain. The old "not in my backyard" problem. I don't know what the answer is.

Ultimately all environmental issues hit close to home. But while I don't like paying so much for gas, the price hasn't slowed down my rate of consumption. I don't do a lot of wasteful driving. When I go off island, my wife and I try to combine errands and accomplish more than one task on each trip. I own a car that gets fairly decent mileage (about 29 miles to the gallon). I try to watch my carbon footprint. But I'm not about to give up my car! And that doesn't even take into account the many ways I use energy at home, at work and when I play. I want to be a good steward of the environment, but I'm not sure how much I want to sacrifice.

So what are we to do? I'm not the only person who feels this tug, this pull. What will finally cause us to change our ways? Or will we?

2011-03-07T13:27:00.004-05:00

I debated whether to write this week about the Red Sox spring training game I attended on Saturday or the recent Supreme Court decision involving Westboro Baptist Church. Neither was a very happy affair. The Red Sox lost by a huge margin as one of their starting pitchers really got shellacked! And Westboro Baptist won, retaining the right to protest at funerals of soldiers killed in battle waving signs that read "God hates fags," and "Thank God for dead soldiers."

The Red Sox, of course, will go on to play other games--games that ultimately will count in the season yet to come. And so, I'm not overly concerned about their poor showing on Saturday. But the victory of Westboro Baptist leaves me feeling a great measure of anxiety. I agree with the majority of justices who saw it as a matter of free speech. The 8-1 decision was, I believe, the right decision. The First Amendment must be upheld--even when the speech involved is so noxious. But even though it is a victory for the little church pastored by Fred Phelps in Topeka, it is in the end a real loss for the Church Universal.

You see, there are those whose opinion of Christianity as a whole is shaped by the likes of Fred Phelps. There are those who point to such behaviour and say, "See, Christians are intolerant. They preach hate. They don't even show respect for the dead." But that's not the Christianity that I know. For the God I worship is a God of love. The God I worship weeps for every fallen soldier. The God I worship embraces all people, gay, straight, Christian, Muslim, Buddhist, Jew, black, white, English speaking or not . . . . The God I worship, and the God most Christians worship, is a God of compassion, forgiveness and above all else patience. And I wouldn't want people to think otherwise because of Westboro Baptist Church.

Saturday, right before the game started at City of Palms Park, a young woman sang the national anthem. She did a very credible job. But as I stood there with my hand over my heart, I couldn't help but think of Westboro Baptist, and the Supreme Court, and the simple fact that I live in a country where I am free to worship as I wish, where I can voice my opinion about public matters without fear of retribution. And while I vehemently disagree with Fred Phelps, on most all counts, I realize that if I really want to combat the view of Christianity he and his followers have splashed across the airwaves, the best thing I can do, is demonstrate in my own words and actions that not all Christians think like Fred Phelps. In fact, most of us don't.

Maybe Westboro Baptist has had its turn at bat, but now the rest of us are standing at the plate of public opinion. And its time to play ball!

(Photo Credit: Linda Bradbury-Danner)

2011-02-28T14:55:00.004-05:00

My grandson Chris lost a tooth this weekend. He's at that age where it happens with some frequency. In fact he also celebrated his seventh birthday this weekend. Somehow, in its own odd way, that's reassuring. The situation in North Africa is changing daily, it is almost impossible to keep up with advances in technology, social mores are ever vacillating--change is all around us--all the time! But little boys (and girls) still lose their teeth and celebrate their birthdays.

I'm not opposed to change--I'm no Luddite! In fact, I have often promoted change. Societal change, ecclesiastical change, personal change. But sometimes I get a bit weary of constantly adjusting to things that are new, things that are different. Sometimes I long for "the good old days" when life crawled along like Sanibel traffic in the winter! But that, of course, is a false memory. There was plenty of change in "the good old days" as well! And life could be as hectic in the fifties and sixties as it is today.

No, the secret isn't to be found in going back in time. The secret is to be found in learning to accept life on life's terms. The secret is to be found in celebrating the little things, like lost teeth and a grandson's birthday, and recognizing that there are some constants in life if we will simply pay closer attention!

None of this is particularly profound. But truth is not dependent on profundity! In fact, truth sometimes is pretty basic, even simple. And the truth is that change happens, all the time. And in reality, even lost teeth and birthdays represent change. But such is life. Such is life.

(Photo Credit: Alycia Davis)

2011-02-22T11:53:00.004-05:00

High season is upon us here on Sanibel! Folks from the north, weary of the hard winter, have come south in droves for a bit of respite! Roads are clogged, restaurants filled beyond capacity, and many a resident's spare room is being used by friends or family from colder climes.

We've had such guests this week. An old buddy of mine who I've known since third grade and his wife are here for a few days, soaking up the sun and warmth. On Monday we all went to "Ding" Darling and took the tram tour of the wildlife refuge. We saw all manner of birds, learned about mangroves, saw some mating hermit crabs and even caught a glimpse of an alligator.

As we got underway, our very knowledgeable guide informed us that we should conduct ourselves as "intelligent, ethical ecotourists." She impressed on us the importance of respecting the refuge, taking nothing with us, and leaving nothing behind.

I've been thinking about what it means to be an intelligent, ethical ecotourist. And the thought crossed my mind that it was a phrase that could provide guidance for our everyday lives as well. What does it mean to be intelligent and ethical in our conduct as inhabitants on planet earth? A tourist comes and looks and then goes home again. My buddy and his wife will go back home later this week. But a resident lives his or her life in a particular place. I'm not going anywhere. Neither are the other 6,000 or so folks who live here year round. How much better it would be if we were constantly aware of the environment around us, if we were to live as intelligent, ethical ecoresidents?

One of the last things the guide suggested as we finished our tour was that folks visit and support the wildlife refuges in their own parts of the country. It was a good reminder that ecology isn't just for tourists--its for all of us! And ultimately, none of us are really ecotourists, rather, we must be ecoresidents. Intelligent, ethical, ecoresidents.

2011-02-14T16:44:00.004-05:00

So many times over the last week we heard the phrase, "we are watching history in the making." And certainly, in terms of the situation in Egypt we are. It is nothing short of inspiring to witness the peaceful transition of power that is happening in that ancient country! While the future there remains to be seen, for now, it is well worth celebrating. Common men and women have brought about real change without resorting to violence. It is history in the making!

But while I join with so many others in celebrating this turn of events, and realize its historical significance, I bristle a bit at the whole notion of "history in the making," for the reality is we are all making history every single day. The things you and I may do and say, while seemingly unimportant form a global perspective, shape the future. Our words and actions are the foundation upon which future generations will build their version of the world. We will be their history!

So, with that in mind, what can we learn from these past days in Egypt? And how can we apply those lessons to our own lives? For the truth is, if we want a world free of violence, it needs to start at home. It needs to start with each one of us foregoing the little acts of violence that fill so many of our days: cursing at fellow drivers; berating our children, our friends, our spouses and partners, walking over somebody else to get ahead at work or school. To eliminate violence in our world may indeed take more than all that, but it will certainly not take any less!

Long before the recent events in Egypt Mohandas Gandhi led a peaceful revolt in India. I've quoted his words before, but they have never seemed more appropriate than right now: "Be the change you want to see in the world." Look at the violence in your own life--in the words, the attitudes, the actions--and then make your own history!

2011-02-07T12:52:00.004-05:00

Every once in a while someone will ask me if I miss the snow. And I usually pause to think about it. I don't miss the postponed meetings. I don't miss the canceled worship services. I don't miss the wet shoes and salt-rimed pant cuffs. And I certainly don't miss the constant shoveling. No, at one level, I don't miss snow a bit. Not one bit.

But that said, I do kind of miss sitting in a comfy recliner, covered by an afghan, listening to good music and reading a book while the flakes pile up out my window. A snow day occasionally provided an opportunity to simply slow down and enjoy life. And that's something I've never done very well. I tend to cram as much into the day as I possibly can, often running from one duty to the next. Snow days, while full of inconveniences, gave me an excuse that everybody understood to take a break from my busyness.

Now it could be argued that I could just as easily do that here on Sanibel. Just substitute the comfy recliner with a beach chair, turn the afghan into sunscreen, plug in my iPod, and open up a book and voila! All the ingredients for a snow day, Florida style. But somehow it's just not the same (as wonderful as it is!) Don't misunderstand--I'm not booking any flights to New England any time soon! And the pluses of living on this beautiful island far outweigh the pleasures of a snow day or two each year.

Not that there aren't reminders of the importance of changing pace here as well. My favorite such reminder comes in the form of the many road signs that dot Sanibel that read "Slow Down for Gopher Tortoises." Now if that isn't a double message I don't know what is! So maybe, instead of watching for storm clouds, I should be watching for turtles! Maybe that would work!

Do I miss the snow? No, not really. Just the snow days.

(Photo Credit: Elizabeth Danner--my New England based daughter!)

2011-01-31T13:23:00.003-05:00

There is nothing new about disturbing reports coming out of the Middle East. We've grown accustomed to stories of death and destruction in that region of the world. Indeed, we have become a bit cynical about it. But somehow, the current happenings in Egypt seem especially upsetting. Perhaps that's because at some level, here in the West, we all share in the long and amazing story of Egypt. We've recounted its wonders in classrooms and museums. We've marveled at the enduring nature of the pyramids and the ongoing mystery of the Sphinx. We've sung about it in spirituals like "Go Down Moses." We've explored it with fictional characters like Indiana Jones. Perhaps, what we've forgotten, though, is that it is a real country, with real people, who have some very real challenges in life.

The current uprising has brought to the fore some of the concerns of the populace there. Despite what some have called thirty years of apathy, the citizens of Egypt appear to have come to the end of their patience with Hosni Mubarek, the longtime President of Egypt. As of this writing, Amnesty International reports that ten people have died in the fighting, and hundreds have been injured. And over the weekend, the Egyptian Museum in Cairo was attacked, leaving a fair amount of damage to priceless antiquities. Looters even ripped off the heads of two mummies. (Personally, I was impressed by the courage and wisdom of ordinary citizens who tried to protect the museum with a human chain around it's perimeter.)

In Egypt, the fate of both the living and the dead seem to be literally interwoven. And, in one very real way, isn't that always the case? Sometimes we try to divorce ourselves from the past, but it is always with us. We carry it in all that we say and do. Yes, we needn't be enslaved by it, but we always need to acknowledge its power and its influence in our lives. Trying to destroy it never really works. It comes back to haunt us--for good or ill. Our ability to successfully come to terms with the past, greatly influences not only the present, but the future as well.

I have no expertise in Egyptian affairs, past or present! And others will need to weigh in on how the current problems can be resolved. But meanwhile, we can, as we have so often before, learn from this ancient culture, as we seek to deal with our own histories--as individuals and as a nation.

(Photo Credit: Newscom)

2011-01-26T08:59:00.004-05:00

Over the years I've probably watched 35 or 40 State of the Union Addresses and I must admit, the pundits are right--this one was different. Not so much because of what the President said, but because of the more subdued and civil atmosphere in the room. The simple fact that so many Republicans, Democrats and Independents chose to sit together, rather than on opposite sides of the aisle, did indeed seem to make a real difference in how they behaved.

Once word got around that the very liberal Democrat from New York, Chuck Schummer, was going to sit with conservative Republican Tom Coburn from Oklahoma, the idea caught on, and others followed suit. As the cameras scanned the audience, there were many rather "odd" couples like Democrat John Kerry sitting next to Republican John McCain. It was, frankly, refreshing.

As I've thought about it over the last few days, an old bumper sticker came to mind: "Think Globally, Act Locally." The House and the Senate must constantly be thinking in global terms. Indeed, we heard many references in the speech to global and national issues: the global economy, the global war against terrorism, the need to compete in a global market. And we heard many broad stroke reminders of the need for all Americans to get along, to cooperate, to pull together. But such all-encompassing efforts need to start somewhere, and for our elected representatives in the House and Senate, it doesn't get any more local than who you sit next to in the halls of congress. The President was right when we noted, "What comes of this moment will be determined not bu whether we can sit together tonight, but whether we can work together tomorrow." Seating arrangements won't solve the nation's problems, large or small, but its a good, symbolic first step.

It also strikes me that we all could choose to follow this example. How often do we choose to sit next to folks we know, folks with whom we are comfortable. I see it every week as I look out across the pews on Sunday mornings. I see it at social gatherings, especially wedding receptions! I see it in classrooms and at meetings. We often sit with those we know best. But what if we made a conscious effort to literally sit next to the stranger, or the one we barely know, or even the one with whom we are often at odds? What if we were willing to really get to know one another a bit better?

The late Tip O'Neil, Speaker of the House for many years, famously said, "All politics is local." And he was right. But its bigger than that. In the end, all life is local.

So who are you going to sit next to this week?

(Photo Credit: David Iliff)

2011-01-20T09:44:00.003-05:00

This past Monday I conducted a Memorial Service for one of the founding mothers of Sanibel, Grace Whitehead. As I did some research in preparation for the service, I was reminded how deeply committed to this island Grace truly was! In so many ways, she contributed to the well-being of this bit of God's creation.

She was devoted to protecting the environment . Her sister Gloria called her a "tree-hugger", not an unusual term for environmentalists, but in Grace's case, she literally wrapped her arms and body around some Australian pines in an effort to save them from being plowed over! She loved those pine trees!

Grace was also one of the primary shakers and movers when it came to creating what is now a twenty-two mile collection of bike/shared-use paths all around the island. One could live on Sanibel without a car, if one so chose, and get all over the place safely!

Sanibel was only incorporated as a city in 1974. And it happened in direct response to the desire of its residents to have a place that wasn't overdeveloped. They had no interest in skyscraper hotels lining the beaches. Instead they wanted to protect the land, and preserve a place where people and wildlife could live together in harmony. Today, some 65% of the island is protected land.

Halfway around the planet, Mahatma Gandhi once said, "Be the change you want to see in the world." Grace lived her life true to that ideal. Speaking to a reporter in 1999, and reflecting on that time of Sanibel's incorporation, Grace said: "It was such a new idea, that a bunch of people could get together on an island in the United States and keep it so that it was a grand place to live--a paradise--but the main thing was that people were willing to work at it . . . ." (The Islander, 10-1-99, 4)

If we really want to preserve this planet, if we really want to protect the environment, then we all need to be willing to do a little tree-hugging. We all need to be like Grace, and work at it.

2011-01-10T15:22:00.005-05:00

She was just nine years old. A third grader, at Mesa Verde Elementary School. She loved ballet, had planned on learning how to play the guitar and was the only girl on her Little League baseball team. And she was fascinated by politics. That's why she was there at Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords' Congress on Your Corner event at the Safeway in Tuscon. She was there because she wanted to learn more about how our country works. Because one day, she hoped, she might hold office herself.

Actually she already did--she'd just been elected to serve on the Student Council. But she aspired to higher offices. You see, Christina-Taylor Green was born on September 11, 2001. And throughout her short life she had seen that as something of a sign. Her mother told ABC News that she thought of it as "a day of hope and change, a chance for the country to come together and be united." And maybe, just maybe, Christina-Taylor had told her mother, she would someday be able to bring all the political parties together "so we could live in a better country." How appropriate that Christina-Taylor was included in a book about children born on 9-11 called Faces of Hope.

But Christina-Taylor's dream of holding higher office will never be realized, for she was one of those gunned down this past weekend.

There has been much speculation about why Jared Lee Loughner went on his shooting spree. Some have suggested that the vitriolic nature of our political discourse pushed him over the edge. And who knows, that may have been the case. But even if that is not the case, the current focus on our collective lack of civility on the political front has the potential of being a new day of hope and change. For if we choose, we can use this moment, much as Christina-Taylor used 9-11, to inspire us to become more respectful, and ultimately more productive, in our political conversation.

We may never know what Jared Lee Loughner was thinking in Tuscon this past Saturday. We may never know if it was connected to the acrimonious nature of so much political discussion these days. The two may be totally unrelated. But for the sake of Christina-Taylor Green, I hope we don't mourn for a few days and then go back to business as usual. I hope we really turn things around and become a nation where all little girls, and little boys too, have good reason to be interested in how our country works.

2011-01-04T13:41:00.004-05:00

I received an e-mail from the City of Sanibel this week inviting me to attend a program being offered in February called "Skywarn Storm Spotter Training." The training, which occurs in two parts, will address weather safety, thunderstorm formation, how to identify severe weather clouds, lightning patterns and hurricanes. It sounds fascinating!

The training is being offered to increase the number of folks who can spot a storm before it gets here. As our City Manager Judie Zimomra, noted in the e-mail "it is in the community's best interest to have as many trained eyes assisting us in identifying severe weather conditions as they approach our town."

When I was a boy, my mother taught me an old bit of weather-related poetry:

Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning;

Red sky at night, sailors delight.

I guess it was her take on storm spotting! Indeed, Jesus said much the same thing at one time--though without the rhyme! But he followed it up by suggesting we need to be on the lookout for other warning signs as well. And so we do. We need to watch out for those attitudes and actions that threaten the very fabric of society. Things like prejudice, intolerance and hatred. When we see such warning signs, we need to take action. For as dangerous as thunderstorms and hurricanes can be, the greatest dangers in life are not weather-related!

We all need to watch for signs of societal breakdown. And when we see them, we need to speak up. When we hear a racial slur, when someone is derided because of their sexual orientation, when someone tells an ethnic joke, when someone is excluded because of their religious beliefs, we need to speak out! We all need to be storm spotters. It is indeed, in the community's best interest!

(Photo Credit: Google Images)

2010-12-28T18:11:00.002-05:00

So here we are in the last week of the year. Where has the time gone? To mark the end of the year I thought about making one of those ten most important stories of 2010 lists that you see everywhere. You know, the Top Ten Religion Stories of 2010. Or the Top Ten Enviromental Stories of 2010. Or the Top Ten Sanibel Stories of 2010. But its all so subjective. What's important to me may not be important to you. And simply by virtue of writing this blog week after week I get to share with you stories and ideas that I think merit your consideration.

So instead of my creating a Top Ten list this week, I've decided to invite you to take some time to create your own list. What have been the Top Ten most important stories in your life this year? Maybe some of them impacted all of us--like the oil spill. Maybe some of them were local--like the comings and goings here on Sanibel. And maybe some of them were very personal--stories about your children, or your career or your spouse. Whatever the case, ultimately your Top Ten Stories of 2010 will more than likely continue to resonate in the months and years ahead. That's how stories work. And the best of them will deserve being retold.

So here's to stories from the past, and stories of the present, and stories of years to come.

Happy New Year!

2010-12-20T14:18:00.003-05:00

This week before Christmas is filled with preparations for the two Christmas Eve Candlelight Services we hold here. One will be a traditional service in our sanctuary, but the other will be held at Lighthouse Beach, at the eastern end of the island. Sand and surf and palm trees will be the order of the night! A far cry from the snow and cold and pine trees of my past!

When I was a boy I never saw the Christmas tree until Christmas morning. My Dad would always get it at the last moment and tuck it away somewhere until after we'd all gone to bed. Then despite having presided at the midnight candlelight service (he was also a pastor) he and my mother would put it up, decorate it, and carefully place the brightly colored packages undernearth its branches. My mother once told me it was how his father had done it, and Dad wanted to pass on to us the excitement he'd felt as a youngster on Christmas morning. And it worked. For the next morning when we all got up, there, as if by magic, was a wondrous sight: lights twinkling, tinsel glittering and gifts for each one of us. I don't know who enjoyed the tradition more: my father or us kids.

One year, though, there was a change. I was in fourth grade, as I remember, and a devoted student of my teacher Miss Barrett. Like most all classrooms in that time, our was decorated for most of December with snowflakes we'd cut out ourselves, chains of red and green construction paper rings, and a tree. Not a plastic tree, mind you, but a real live pine. It stood in the corner of the classroom for two or three weeks before Christmas. Then on the last day of school before our vacation, we had our class Christmas party.

I'm not sure what possessed me to ask, but as we filed out after the last bell, midst shouts of "Merry Christmas!" I asked Miss Barrett what would happen to the tree.

"Oh," she said, "The custodian will put it out in the trash."

Suddenly I had a nine-year-old's flash of inspiration.

"Could I have it?" I asked. Imagine, I thought, how pleased Dad will be to get a free tree. He was a real penny pincher, and in retrospect, that may have been part of his reason for waiting so long each year before buying our tree.

But in the fourth grade I didn't think of that. I just thought about how pleased he'd be at his oldest son's ingenuity.

Having been in a warm classroom for three weeks, it was already pretty bedraggled. In my excitement I didn't even notice the the needles I was leaving behind in the snow as I dragged it home. Dad could have laughed at my Charlie Brown tree, I suppose. Or he could have gotten angry. Or he could have simply said, "No thanks!" But much to his credit, he treated my tree as a real prize, and made me feel like a million bucks!

"That's great John," he said when I showed him the tree. "Good thinking!"

For me it was one of the best Christmases ever--and tyhe memory of it almost fifty years later, still warms my heart!

I'll not be dragging home any trees this year--palm or pine--we've long since resigned ourselves to artificial trees. And I don't need to worry about snow, not here on Sanibel. Parts of Christmas celberations from the past, are now simply part of the past. But the love of that fourth grade Christmas, even though my father is no longer with us, lives on. For the promise of St. Paul is true: "Love never ends."

Might your Christmas, on or off-island, north or south, be truly blessed!

2010-12-15T13:11:00.003-05:00

A couple of days ago my wife Linda and I were out for a walk when we passed by one of our neighbors hard at work in his yard. He was taking bedsheets and draping them over his beautiful flower beds. It wasn't that he was trying to hide them from view, rather he was seeking to protect them from the cold weather that was expected overnight. Cold, of course, is relative, but over the past week or so it has gotten down into the forties and even the thirties over night, and without the sheets, the flowers could be killed by the cold temperatures.

I am not a gardener, but I certainly enjoy the beauty that surrounds me because of folks who take the time to plant and weed and fertilize and protect bushes and flowers and trees in our neighborhood. I appreciate the fact that they are good stewards of their own plots of land.

I am also grateful, in these December days, for the many folks here on Sanibel who work to protect this island. They may not literally cover things up with sheets, but their efforts made to preserve the beauty around us is evident all over Sanibel. But it's not just about beauty--its also about survival. The various organizations dedicated to the environment here on island help us work together at the task of being good stewards of this plot of land. And just as those bedsheets make it possible for my neighbor's flowers to make it through the cold nights, so our collective efforts can make it possible for our island to survive. And beyond that, our planet.

2010-12-06T10:35:00.004-05:00

Are you afraid of the dark? Lots of children are--and so too many adults. Yet I think in reality, what people are usually afraid of is what might be lurking in the dark. What people are afraid of is what they can't see. Which I suppose is another way of saying, they are afraid of the unknown.

I thought about that a bit this past weekend as Sanibel celebrated Luminary Night. Annually, the main road here on the Island, Periwinkle Way, is lined with luminaries. And businesses, churches, and individuals, deck their buildings, bushes and trees with thousands and thousands of twinkling lights. It really is quite a sight--like something out of a fairy tale!

This year we dedicated a new addition to our courtyard here at the church on Luminary Night. It is a lovely glass cylinder, handsomely engraved by artist Luc Centruy with waving sea oats, and lit from within by a solar-powered lamp. It is called The Eternal Light and was created in honor of our congregation's relationship with Bat Yam, Temple of the Islands, a Jewish Reform congregation that meets here for worship.

One of the joys of our relationship with Bat Yam is occasionally sharing in worship and educational events so that we might come to know one another and our respective traditions and beliefs a bit better. The Eternal Light reminds us of our common belief in the God who created light. But as I've thought about it, I realize it also symbolizes the fact that in sharing life together as we do, we transform the unknown into the known. What may have been shrouded in the darkness of our differences, is revealed by the light of our common commitment and willingness to work and learn and worship together.

Even here in Florida, the days grow shorter, the nights longer and the darkness deeper as we move into December. But Hanukkah and Advent both remind us that we can, in the words of an old proverb, make a choice. We can be afraid of the unknown, and "curse the darkness." Or we can choose to light the candles of knowledge, commitment and hope.

(Photo Credit: Edwin Neitzke)

2010-11-29T14:09:00.002-05:00

Last week my wife and I took our two grandsons to the circus. It was really a rather rundown affair. The big top was set up on an old field in neighboring Cape Coral. You could see the dried up and matted down grass in the aisles. The seats were old metal folding chairs that looked like they'd been bnought at a church rummage sale and then painted red and yellow to match the circus decor.

The circus workers and performers looked almost as tired as the chairs. Ticket takers doubled as dancers and acrobats. Elephants not only performed their tricks, but, for an extra fee, also gave rides to children. Some of the acts were rather tepid--a few were actually fairly good. My grandsons really liked the Globe of Death ( a motocycle act), and the Human Cannonball (moving at 65 miles per hour, according to the ringmaster.) The tigers, though, looked like they'd really rather be in the jungle. And the clowns tried hard--but there were no budding Emmet Kelly's among them. And even as we were walking out of the big top, I noticed workers tearing it down, getting ready to move on to their next stop.

But here's the thing: we had a good time. All of us. And we didn't spend a fortune. In fact, we got out of the evening for well under one hundred dollars--and that included our nutritionally impoverished meal under the Golden Arches! OK, it's true, as soon as we walked in the front door at home, my wife insisted that we all go and wash our hands--but we'd had a good time, germs and all!

I'm not the first to see a metaphor for life in the circus, but I saw it afresh that night. And while sometimes we just go through the paces, and like those tigers would really rather be someplace else, in the end, there we are. Needing to put one foot (or paw) ahead of the other, and do our bit to help make it all work. Even if it means jumping through hoops of fire. And though it often seems that we barely finish up one part of life and we need to get moving on to the next--so be it. Such is life. And, yes, we may need to wash our hands, but we life can still be good, it can be very good, or as my youngest grandson might put it, "Awesome!"

I don't know when the circus will come our way again. I don't know if I'll go back. But I'm glad I caught it this time around for it reminded me again that what makes for a good night out--not to mention a good life--is sharing it with those you love.

2010-11-22T13:06:00.003-05:00

This past weekend I presented a monologue at our three Sunday morning services and then in the evening at the Sanibel Community Thanksgiving Celebration. I spoke as a Pilgrim, and retold the story of their long and difficult journey as well as that of the first Thanksgiving. Preparing to deliver the monologue which I had written, meant immersing myself in the words of the monologue for days. It also meant procuring a costume.

When the costume arrived via FedEx, I must say I was not too pleased. It was rather flimsy looking, and had been all scrunched up to fit into the shipping container. It looked like some ancient Pilgrim has slept in it for weeks! In that regard, it may have actually been somewhat authentic, but still, I wanted a crisper look for my presentations. So I took it to the dry cleaner here on island and asked if they could spruce it up. They did, and when I picked it up a few days later, I was told there would be "no charge". I was both pleased and surprised. But in retrospect, I shouldn't have been. They probably knew I'd be using it for the community celebration, and it was their way of contributing to the larger good. It's just one of the advantages of living in a relatively small community!

This Thanksgiving, my first here on Sanibel, I've been giving a lot of thought to the things for which I am thankful. There are a large number of items on my list: my wonderful wife and family, the beauty of this place, the organizations and people dedicated to caring for the environment who make Sanibel their home, the pelicans, a good job (no small matter in this day and age!), religious freedom, Sanibel sunrises, a fine church, enough to eat, a roof over my head, music, books, the New York Times, good health and insurance to pay for my health care . . . . There are so many things on my list, including you--the good folks who read this blog week in and week out. I thank you for the opportunity you afford me to share my thoughts about matters large and small.

Yes, I have a very long list of blessings. But I never thought to add the local dry cleaners to the list. At least, not until this past weekend!

(Photo Credit: Mary Bondurant)

2010-11-15T15:14:00.005-05:00

Please don't misunderstand what I am about to say for I am a big fan of the Ten Commandments. They provide a concise statement of how to live a moral life. But they don't belong on the walls of city hall. You might wonder what brought that on--especially if you don't live here in southwest Florida. So let me bring you up to speed.

Cape Coral is the biggest city in our neck of the woods (or our corner of the swamp!) During the boom years it grew like topsy. And then during the recession it experienced an inordinate amount of economic difficulty. It is a city on its heels. In the interest of helping Cape Coral flourish once again, one of its citizens has proposed that the Ten Commandments should be hung in city hall. According to the city's daily paper, he believes there are no religious issues at stake. "It's not a political or religious issue," he said. "Cape Coral needs to be revitalized and to begin that process there needs to be a moral foundation." (Cape Coral Daily Breeze, 11-20-2010) Apparently the mayor of the city agrees it would be good to post them.

There is no question that the Ten Commandments can provide a moral foundation for life, but they are most certainly religious! The first commandment alone makes them so--"You shall have no other gods before me." (Exodus 20:2) Again, don't misunderstand. I believe that to be true. And my morality is firmly rooted in my belief that I should bow to no other gods but the one I call Lord. But it is a matter of faith--not a matter of civic conviction! The Qur'an has some powerful moral truths in it as well. So do the teachings of the Buddha. And some of the most moral and ethical people I know are agnostics! To be moral one doesn't have to subscribe to Jewish or Christian theology!

If you and I are going to be free to live out of our religious convictions, if you and I are going to be free to speak and worship the truth as we understand it, then we must, absolutely must, protect the rights of others to do the same. That is why we must protect the separation of church (or any other religious organization) and state. Which means various branches of government must avoid endorsing any particular religious beliefs. Even those as noble and as important as the Ten Commandments.

I hope Cape Coral is revitalized--in every way possible. And if more people would live by the dictates of the Ten Commandments, I'm sure it would help. I am sure it would help any city, thriving or not! But as a Christian who believes in their truth, I need to make sure my own life is in order rather than trying to impose my faith on others.

2010-11-10T15:01:00.004-05:00

No doubt you know about the just concluded trial of Steven Hayes in Connecticut. Three years ago, on July 23, 2007, Hayes and Joshua Komisarjevsky invaded the home of William and Jennifer Petit. After beating William, raping and strangling Jennifer, and molesting one of their two daughters they set the house on fire and ultimately caused the deaths of all but William. It was one of the most violent and horrific crimes in Connecticut history. It is hard to imagine the sheer terror of it all--and one can only empathize with William and his family and friends.

It took the jury just five hours to find Hayes guilty of the crimes. But then, in the penalty phase, they took three full days to determine whether or not he should receive the death penalty. In the end, they voted to do just that.

In an recent television interview on NBC's Today Show with several of the jurors they spoke about the difficulty of sitting through such a graphic trial. It challenged each and every one of them. But even though their deliberations prolonged things, when it came to their decision around the death penalty they were determined to explore the pros and cons and review the facts in as rational a manner as possible. Free of emotion. Everyone was given time to speak his or her mind. They wanted to do they could to make a decision that was within the parameters of the law.

Personally, I do not support the death penalty. But I was impressed with the seriousness with which they took their charge to administer justice in a fair and reasoned manner. And as I have thought about the way they went about their work, I couldn't help but think they were onto something. Wouldn't our public discourse about controversial matters be so much more productive if we allowed all people to speak their minds without fear of ridicule or personally destructive criticism? Wouldn't we have a better chance of coming to compromise on important matters if we worked with the facts and set aside emotionality? Wouldn't the quality of such discussions be improved by giving them the time they deserve instead of being satisfied with sound-bites? And while I may not agree with their decision, I can't help but admire the jury's approach. It would serve us well to follow their example.

In fact, maybe we could start by discussing capital punishment itself in such a manner. It is, after all, a matter of life and death. Doesn't that deserve our very best?

2010-11-01T10:28:00.003-04:00

In my faith tradition folks don't generally respond in the midst of a sermon. Folks don't usually shout "Amen!" or "Preach it, brother!" You'll rarely hear a "Praise the Lord!" or "Hallelujah!" But yesterday, two days before Election Day, near the beginning of my sermon, folks broke into applause. I don't think I'd said anything theologically astute. I wouldn't say the applause was prompted by the Spirit. Rather, I think I hit a nerve. It was my stewardship sermon, and I was illustrating the point that how we spend our money reflects our core beliefs and values, as demonstrated by the tremendous amount of money spent on this year's political campaigns. In particular, I voiced my dismay at the negative character of the various television attack ads. "I am a self-admitted political junkie," I said, "But like many other people, I will be very glad when Tuesday has come and gone." That's when they started to clap. One fellow told me later, "I've been here fifteen years, and I've never heard spontaneous applause during a sermon."

I have a very active and involved congregation. Many, many of my parishioners are involved in volunteer work at a number of agencies in our area--ranging from environmental organizations to those working to stave off hunger. They are well-educated, and extremely well-informed. I suspect a very high percentage of them vote. But some of them, at least, are obviously worn down by aspects of the political process. Understandably. So too are many other Americans. All of which is rather disturbing. For the truth is, our system of government depends on citizens being willing to participate in the process. Not just by voting, which is so important, but also by being willing to engage in a civil conversation about the important issues that confront us in this day and age.

Mind you, I have faith in my congregation. I don't think folks here will give up on excercising their responsibility as citizens. But I do worry about the nation as a whole. I hope, and pray, that in the months and years ahead, we can move beyond the negativity and find ways to engage in healthy dialogue about the issues. Not just in Congress, but also in the everyday places common folks like us gather. It is the only way we can begin to address the real concerns we all face in the early part of the twenty-first century.

2010-10-25T13:41:00.005-04:00

I grew up in northern New England, on the short but beautiful coastline of New Hampshire. We lived about two miles inland, but regularly we made trips to the beach to go swimming, to picnic,and later, when we were in high school, to work at the restaurants and tourist traps that lined the boardwalk. There are two things that always bring back memories of my childhood by the Atlantic: the smell of salt air, and the cry of seagulls. I know, lots of folks think they are a nuisance. They are, after all, scavengers, garbage collectors if you will. I've never seen a thrown out bit of food gulls wouldn't eat. It's part of why they are such a common sight at landfills as well! But still, they can be beautiful as they glide across the sky or bob up and down on a wave. I for one, would be most saddened indeed if there were no more gulls!

There are many types of seagulls, and the ones that I grew up with are different than the ones that frequent Sanibel. But still, they have much in common, including their rowdy cry! One of the gulls that is native to the Gulf Coast is the Laughing Gull--so called because it's cry sounds like your Uncle Marvin laughing at the movies!

In the wake of the Deepwater Horizon disaster we read a lot about pelicans--Brown Pelicans in particular. Indeed, one of my first posts was about the fate of a few dozen pelicans who had been relocated to Sanibel. And the truth is that as of October 20 at least 766 Brown Pelicans have been impacted by the spill. But as tragic as that is, it pales in comparison to the Laughing Gulls. The U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service reports that 2815 of the little scavengers have been impacted--and about 2/3 of that number were found dead. Despite their name, it's clearly no laughing matter!

The International Union for the Conservation of Nature (IUCN) ranks species according to how threatened they are. The scale ranges from "Least Concern" to "Vulnerable" to "Extinct" with a few stages in between. Laughing Gulls are ranked as being of "Least Concern". And relatively speaking, I guess that's true. A couple thousand Laughing Gulls isn't going to make or break their survival. But I keep thinking about creatures like the bison, who probably would have been ranked as being of "Least Concern" in days long gone by. I just don't like the nomenclature., for ultimately, we should be concerned about all of God's creatures--commonplace like Laughing Gulls, or beautiful and majestic, like Brown Pelicans. They all count. They all matter. "Not one of them is forgotten in God's sight." (Luke 12:6) Sure, Jesus was talking about sparrows at the time, but I suspect his words cover Laughing Gulls as well.

(To hear a recording of the cry of a Laughing Gull visit the All About Birds website created by the Cornell Laboratory of Ornithology: www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/laughing_Gull/sounds)

(Photo Credit: www.flickr.com/x/t/0096009/photos/superfantastic/148266632)

2010-10-18T09:31:00.004-04:00

Crossing the Causeway onto Sanibel recently you couldn't help but see the roadside sign that said "Ding" Darling Days, October 17-23. If you don't know the island, you may not realize that "Ding" Darling is the name of the National Wildlife Refuge that occupies a significant portion of Sanibel. But even if you do know that, you may not know who "Ding" Darling was.

Born in Iowa in 1867, John Norwood Darling grew up to be a prominent editorial cartoonist. He signed his cartoons "Ding"--a contraction of his last name. He was published in over 150 newspapers, and in time won two Pulitzers for his work.

Over the years Darling developed a strong interest in conservation, which led to his appointment in the thirties to the Bureau of Biological Survey (know today as the Fish and Wildlife Service. Later he was instrumental in a number of other environmentally related efforts, including the Federal Duck Stamp program. He wrote prolifically, and was often involved in conservation education. He was direct and to the point. In one essay, written in 1935, he said: "We have invaded all the national ranges, the homes of our wild life species. We have evicted them and spread ourselves out with all our paraphernalia . . . . In fact, we have thrown nature's cradle out the window and made our home where nature used to cradle its wild life species." ("Conserving Our Wildlife," Recreation, 1935)

Darling's vacationed on Captiva, Sanibel's neighboring island to the north. When an attempt was made in the forties to sell off land on Sanibel owned by Florida, Darling was a key player in seeing that it was kept for conservation purposes. The refuge that now bears his name, started with that land and other parcels added over the years. Until his death in 1962, Darling was vitally interested and involved in the effort to carve out part of Sanibel for wildlife. The refuge was officially named for him in 1967. An appropriate tribute for the man who talked about nature's cradle!

"Ding Darling Days is a week long celebration of National Wildlife Week. There are activities and educational opportunities for the whole family. For more information check out http://www.dingdarlingdays.com/. And to learn more about the refuge's namesake, visit the website of the "Ding" Darling Foundation at http://www.dingdarling.org/.

(Photo Credit: FWS, NCTC/The Des Moines Register)

2010-10-11T13:46:00.002-04:00

A friend sent me a note today wishing me a "Happy Thanksgiving!" While at first glance one might wonder if my friend is a little confused, the truth is today is Thanksgiving in Canada. Established by the Canadian Parliament in 1957, the holiday is celebrated on the second Monday of October. It is a harvest festival, designed to offer God thanks for the bounty of autumn's crops.

Though a recent incarnation in its present form, Canadians have been observing Thanksgiving in one way or another for centuries. One earlier celebration goes back to 1578, when Martin Frobisher marked a safe Atlantic crossing which ended in modern-day Newfoundland. And Canada's native population, the First Nation peoples, have held harvest celebrations and days of thanksgiving long before any Europeans set foot on Canadian soil.

My Masters thesis was a theological history of the Shaker Community at Sabbathday Lake in Maine. Well-known for their gorgeous furniture and their plaintive chants and songs, the Shakers were a profoundly grateful people. I had access to the daily logs that had been kept for almost two centuries by various clerks of the community, and shall never forget an entry made by Otis Sawyer on Thanksgiving Day (US) in 1880: "The good Shakers," he wrote, "need no president nor Governor to remind them of the duty of Thanksgiving, for not only one but everyday of the year their first breath in the morning is prayer and thanksfulness for many blessings everyday enjoyed."

He is so right! I think about my own life here on Sanibel. We're blessed with the beauty of the Gulf. We're blessed with spectacular night-time views of the stars and the moon. We're blessed by intriguing flora and fauna. There is so much for which to give thanks! So why wait until the second Monday in October, or the fourth Thursday in November? Why wait for Parliament or the President to declare a day of thanksgiving? Why not make it a daily celebration?

2010-10-05T09:40:00.003-04:00

I lived in metropolitan New York for eighteen years, and crossed the George Washington Bridge more times than I can begin to count. Often when I traveled into the city it was to visit one parishioner or another at one of New York's many fine hospitals. For them the George (as it's often called by locals) was a bridge to health and hope. Other times I was going into the city to see a play or concert, and the George became a bridge to culture and fine art. But this past week the George became a bridge to death for a young man named Tyler Clementi.

I'm sure you've read about it, or heard about it on television. Clementi was a promising young violinist and a freshman at Rutgers. He was by most accounts rather shy and retiring. And he was gay. His roommate and another student thought it would be fun to film Clementi in a romantic encounter and then broadcast it on the Internet. This invasion of privacy, this act of cyberbullying, was more than Clementi could bear. And so, after leaving a message that reportedly said simply "jumping off the gw bridge sorry" he traveled to the city, leapt off the George, and met his death in the cold waters of the Hudson River.

Studies indicate that gay and lesbian young men and women are four times more likely to commit suicide than those who are not. Often because of the torment of bullies. Regardless of where you stand on various gay rights issues, the right to live a life free of harassment seems to be one of those basic rights all people should be able to expect. But on many fronts we are a long way from realizing that goal. Bullying and harassment are part of the lives of too many people, young and old. Race, gender, ethnicity, religion, age, sexual orientation, physical and mental ability--there are so many differences in our society. The day must come when we can rise above our differences and live in peace. But for that to happen we'll need to build bridges of understanding. We'll need to take time to learn about our neighbors so that we can better appreciate who they are.

I don't cross the George much these days--it's a bit out of my way here in Florida. But I do cross the causeway from the mainland to Sanibel several times a week. It's a beautiful ride--almost four miles of Gulf Coast beauty. I think the next time I cross it, I'll use it as a time to pray. Don't worry--I'll keep my eyes open. But still I'll pray. I'll pray for Tyler's family, and for all people who are so harassed that they consider taking such a leap. I'll pray for the day bullying comes to an end. And I'll pray for the courage to speak up whenever I am privy to such behaviour. I may not build a whole bridge in doing so, but at least I'll add another plank in the ongoing effort.

2010-09-27T15:44:00.006-04:00

This is my first autumn living in the South. I keep getting e-mails from folks up North talking about how the leaves are turning and beginning to show off their fall colors. And with each one I feel a little twinge of nostalgia. When we moved here I knew I'd struggle a bit with the heat and humidity of summer , and I suspected I'd not really miss the ice and snow. And I was right on both counts. But fall . . . geez Louise! It's my favorite season of the year! And when it's late in September and still getting into the nineties most every day . . . well, I'm sorry, but that just doesn't feel like fall to this New Englander!

But when I'm honest, I have to admit I have also discovered I was wrong on a very important front: things DO change. There are seasonal variations. January is not the same as June, and June is not the same as September! The trouble is, I've not been here long enough yet to really recognize those changes when I see them. But that will come in time.

Meanwhile, I remind myself that I live on one of the most beautiful islands in the world! I am blessed by Florida skies. The colors in the morning and then again in the evening, as the sun makes its entrance and exit each day, are incredible! The cloud formations are simply astounding! And the variety of breezes are beyond counting. And over the last few nights we have been treated to the most exquisite lunar views I may have ever encountered.

I do miss the maple trees with their scarlet and gold leaves. And I do miss the nip in the air that comes at this time of year. But I'm not in Connecticut, or Vermont or Maine. I'm in Florida. And I can sit around bemoaning the lack of fall leaves--or I can celebrate the beauty right here on Sanibel. It's my choice. And it's your choice as well, wherever you live! Will you wax nostalgic about how things were somewhere else--or will you find the beauty in your own backyard?

(Photo Credit: Linda Bradbury-Danner)

2010-09-21T16:38:00.003-04:00

I just finished a book that should be on every environmentalist or practitioner of religion's reading list. It's not the latest biological treatise; it's not a book of science at all. It's not a book of profound theological arguments. In fact, it's what might be called science fiction. But like a lot of good science fiction, it's frighteningly close to the tr uh. It's called The Year of the Flood, and it is written by Canadian novelist Margaret Atwood.

The novel paints a picture of the future that is bleak at best, and would be described by some as dystopian. Webster defines a dystopia as "an imaginary place where people lead dehumanized and often fearful lives". Classic dystopian novels include George Orwell's 1984 and Ray Bradbury's Farenheit 451. Orwell warned against the dangers of governmental encroachment on individual freedoms. Bradbury spoke out against the dumbing down of culture. Atwood challenges the assumptions made in an increasingly materialistic and consumeristic world.

What makes Atwood's novel so compelling is the way she uses theological and liturgical language to pull together her story. Central to her tale is a religious cult known as God's Gardeners. The Gardeners seek to promote a counter-cultural lifestyle which promotes vegetarianism, recycling, organic farming, animal rights and a host of other ideals. And it is cast in religious terms. The book is organized around the liturgical calendar of the Gardeners, which includes saints' days devoted to the like of "St." Euell Gibbons (a naturalist in the last century), "St." Rachel Carson (of Silent Spring fame) and "St. Dian Fossey (the zoologist known for her work with mountain gorillas). Sprinkled through the book are hymns said to be taken from The God's Gardeners Oral Hymnbook. One, dedicated to Fossey, ends:

Among the green and misty hills,

Where once shy Gorillas gathered,

Your kindly Spirit wanders still,

In watchfulness, forever.

(The Year of the Flood, 314)

The Year of the Flood is not without humor, but it is also not for the faint hearted. Atwood holds nothing back. But in the almost brutal approach she takes, Atwood, like Orwell and Bradbury before her, causes the reader to ask him or herself some very hard questions, including the basic question every practitioner of religion must ultimately confront: Am I putting into action the values and principals I espouse, or, am I merely mouthing the words, echoing the doctrine and going through the motions?

The Year of the Flood may be fiction, but in many ways, it is still profoundly true.

(Photo Credit: Julian Weane, www.flickr.com/photos/ikaink/4887822303/)

2010-09-13T11:04:00.010-04:00

There is a proverb, from the Buddhist tradition I think, that says, "You can never step into the same river twice." It is ultimately a commentary on the human condition--how are lives are constantly changing. How the context of our lives is constantly changing. Yet, like many analogies, it can also be understood literally. Literal rivers are always changing, and the water you step into today will not be the same tomorrow. I was reminded of all this while reading a page one article in yesterday's local Sunday paper The News Press. (Being a bit of a news junkie I always read two Sunday papers, the other being the New York Times.) The article, titled "Troubled Waters," described some of the problems being faced by those attempting to keep the Caloosahatchee River alive and well.

The Caloosahatchee runs east to west 75 miles from Lake Okeechobee to the Gulf of Mexico. Over the years the Caloosahatchee has been dammed and straightened and dredged and manipulated over and over again. As reported Amy Beth Williams notes: "[T]he Caloosahatchee as we know it was never meant to be, at least geologically." (The News-Press, 9-12-10, A-8)

I don't live on the river, though I cross it with some frequency, and even stand on its banks once in a while. And so I don't think about it. And I've never even seen Lake Okeechobee. What do they say, out of sight, out of mind? But the truth of the matter is, both of them impact my life. What impacts Lake Okeechobee impacts the Calossahatchee and ulitmatley impacts Sanibel. When pollutants are dumped into the river, when the confluence of salt and fresh water is tampered with by dams and the like, when runoff pours into the lake, ultimately, Sanibel pays.

Its a lesson--an environmental lesson in miniature. Its a reminder that whatever I do, has consequences that reach far beyond the shores of our little island. For good or for ill.

Its true, literally and figuratively, you can never step in the same river twice. But unless we take some responsibility for the Calooshatchees of the world, or at least those in our own backyards, there may not be any rivers to step into at all.

For more information about the Caloosahatchee, check out the ongoing coverage of the issue at www.news-press.com/river. To get involved in helping preserve the Caloosahatchee, contact the Sanibel Captiva Conservation Foundation at river@sccf.org

(Photo Credit: B. K. Bennett, http://flic.kr/p/6djQs1 )

2010-09-07T13:42:00.005-04:00

Sometimes here on Sanibel--this beautiful island oasis--it is easy to forget about the problems of the world. Sometimes immersing oneself in a book at the beach or riding a bike along the many paths that weave there way across the island can lead one to think all is well on Planet Earth. But even here we are not untouched by the news of the day, and so it is that a story has reached our shores from another spot in Florida that sends shivers up my spine, even though its been in the nineties here for days!

Later this week we will mark the 9th anniversary of the tragedy commonly known as 9-11. Once again we will be reminded of how on that beautiful September morning, four planes were flown into the World Trade Center, the Pentagon and a field in Pennsylvania, changing forever our own sense of security and peace. The perpetrators of the attacks were Islamist extremists, men hellbent on death and destruction. I lived in metropolitan New York at the time and had the sad task of officiating at three funerals for victims of those attacks. That time shall be forever seared in my memory.

Every year the question comes up, how should we remember, how should we commemorate that day? This year, in particular, there seems to have been more than the usual amount of controversy around it all: the debate in New York about the proposed Islamic center and mosque, the appropriateness of the memorial that is under construction at ground zero. These projects have people of good faith arguing on all sides of the issues. But another proposal, the one that emanates from Florida, is, in my mind, indefensible. It is just plain wrong.

The pastor of a small church in Gainesville (the Dove World Outreach Center) is urging folks to to burn a Qu'ran, the scriptures of Islam, on September 11th. He is calling it "International Burn a Koran Day." If you visit the church's website you will discover that they claim "it is neither an act of love nor of hate"--but rather a way to warn people about the dangers of Islam. The church's pastor, Terry Jones, has even published a book titled Islam is of the Devil.

I am the first person to defend the freedoms of religion and speech. And Pastor Jones and his flock have the right to hold whatever opinion of Islam they believe to be true. They even have the right to express that opinion. (Even though I radically disagree with them.) But book burning, especially when the book in question is considered holy scripture by millions of Americans, and many millions more around the world, is an act of intellectual and theological cowardice. The strength, the power, the beauty of the gospel speaks for itself. The uplifting message of Jesus is not dependent on tearing down others. In fact, when his followers vilify other people, they are only undermining the very core of his message: Love God with your all, he preached, and love your neighbor as yourself. Burning a neighbor's book of holy scriptures doesn't strike me as an act of love. It strikes me as an act of hate.

9-11 demonstrated that there is already more than enough hatred in the world--perhaps the best way to commemorate it is to find some concrete way to add some love to the mix. Teaching a child to read. Volunteering at your local library. Reading to someone who's blind. I think any one of those beats burning a book. Any day of the week.

2010-09-02T13:21:00.005-04:00

First I need to be clear about something. There is nothing wrong with being a tourist. I just got back from a lovely three-week vacation and spent much of the time being just that. I ambled along the board walk on the Jersey shore, went to the Museum of Contemporary Art in Massachussetts, enjoyed a wonderful concert at Tanglewood and even sailed on the Schooner Manitou on one of the bays off Lake Michigan. They even let me man the helm for a few seconds! I was a tourist through and through.

As a tourist you sample a bit of this and a bit of that, and then you move on. You never really delve deeply into anything. You skim the surface, never really committing to anything. It may be a fine way to take a vacation--but it's no way to live life!

For me one of the joys of vacation is having time to read. One of the books I read on this trip was Warren Richey's Without a Paddle. It is a beautifully written memoir, which recounts his participation in the Ultimate Florida Challenge, a twelve-hundred mile water race around Florida. (In addition to the coastlines, it involves a couple of rivers and some portaging along the northern border of the state.) All entrants must circumnavigate the state in a self-powered or wind-powered boat--Richey uses a kayak.

The book is full of descriptions of Florida's flora and fauna. And woven throughout his story, are Richey's reflections on his divorce and his blossoming relationship with a woman named Linda. Both the race and his reflections are full of high points and low. Several times he faces life threatening situations as he paddles through the night.

At one point Richey writes: "A famous British explorer once said that no journey is ever truly an adventure unless you face the distinct possibility of death. Everything else is just tourism . . . . I don't have a death wish . . . . It is the exact opposite. I want to live. I want to travel to the heart, to the precipice, to the depths . . . When I push my way to the edge of that strange and distant place, I may be called many things, but tourist is not one of them." (324)

Most of us may never be involved in something like the Ultimate Florida Challenge. But all of us are involved in the Ultimate LIFE Challenge. And we do indeed face the "distinct possibility of death." We can try to navigate the waters of existence as tourists--or we can commit ourselves to this place called Planet Earth and live life with a real sense of adventure--and purpose! The choice is ours.

(Photo Credit: Robert Danner--with thanks for a great time on the Manitou!)

2010-08-09T17:55:00.005-04:00

This past week there was a fair amount of good news out of the Gulf. The oil well appears to have been successfully capped, the oil spill itself seems to have largely dissipated and we are told 75% of the oil has been cleaned up. If any or all of that is true it is good news indeed.

But there are many skeptics. A friend recently traveled to Louisiana and reports that many of the fishermen, restaurant owners and others there are very doubtful about it all. Certainly the marshes are still polluted, many of the shrimp boats aren't fishing and the tourists haven't come back.

So what are we to make of it all? What am I to make of it all? I certainly want to celebrate any good news and progress in the clean-up. Thousands have invested their time and energy in the effort. I want to acknowledge their commitment and hard work. It is worthy of praise! Gratitude is important!

But I don't want to lose sight of what has happened here. I don't want it to be swept under the rug--I want it to be remembered so that we can work to prevent it from happening again! There are things to be lamented! Human and animal lives lost. Ecosystems destroyed. Oil wasted. Jobs gone. It is worthy of tears! Mourning is important!

I am reminded in all this of the Book of Psalms--that collection of ancient Hebrew poetry that has songs of thanksgiving nestled cheek-by-jowl with the wailings of those who have lost much! It is uncomfortable having seemingly contradictory emotions at one and the same time. But life often works that way. And the Psalms provide a way to express those thoughts, those emotions. The psalms provide a template for prayer in times such as these. As scholar Walter Bruggemann writes: "In season and out of season, generation after generation, faithful women and men turn to the Psalms as a most helpful resource for conversation with God about things that matter most." (The Message of the Psalms, 15)

In times like these I am grateful for Psalm 30, that promises God will turn "mourning into dancing." And I take great comfort in the many extremes of emotion expressed in Psalm 139. I can be angry and hopeful at the same time. I can be simultaneously happy and sad. And God will be there. For, as the psalmist says, "even if I take the wings of the morning, and settle at the farthest limits of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me."

Yes, these are days filled with environmental highs and lows, but through it all, God travels with us. Such is the promise of the Book of Psalms.

(Photo Credit: Mike Baird, www.flickr.com/photos/mikebaird/2678310549/)

2010-08-02T14:38:00.006-04:00

Last week I attended one of the orientation sessions for those of us here on Sanibel who signed up to be part of the Coastal Watch program. The program was established by the City of Sanibel to create a group of trained volunteers to monitor the beaches for tarballs and other signs of oil.

Everyone who signed up had to first pass an online course which provided basic information about the oil spill in the Gulf and safety concerns. Then following the orientation we each received our official "uniforms"--a bright chartreuse t-shirt emblazoned with VOLUNTEER on the back, and a white baseball cap with the Coastal Watch symbol.

The reality is we may never have to wear either of them. As of last week the oil was 300 miles from our shoreline, and Coastal Watchers won't be pressed into service unless the oil comes within 75 miles of Sanibel. Still, it is good to be prepared. And better yet, it is good to be reminded that we can make a difference as individuals.

The panel of local environmental and safety experts who presented the orientation shared many intriguing facts and figures. One told us about sea turtles, another warned against dehydration, one spoke of how Sanibel fits in the larger picture and yet another took up the subject of dealing with the public. There were other topics as well--but the thing I wrote down on my notepad--the remark I found most important was made by a fellow connected with the wildlife refuge. "Your role," he told us, "is to provide the eyes and ears for us as a community." In some ways, it was to state the obvious. After all, it is called Coastal Watch! But the reality is the job of being the eyes and ears of the community when it comes to environmental issues can't be restricted to a group of volunteers. Here on Sanibel, and around the world, we all need understand that watching out for the environment is one of our responsibilities as human beings!

Theologian Sallie McFague puts it well: "Never before have people had to think about the well-being of the entire planet--we did not ask for the task, but it is one being demanded of us. We Christians must participate in the agenda the planet has set before us--in public and prophetic ways--as our God 'who so loved the world' would have us do." (Life Abundant, 210)

I am truly pleased and impressed that 200 folks on our island of a little over 6,000 signed up for the Coastal Watch. But I pray the day comes when we human beings are all part of a concerted effort to watch over not just the coast, but the entire planet.

2010-07-26T16:04:00.003-04:00

I've been doing some reading to prepare for a course on environmental theology and ethics that I'll be teaching here at the Sanibel church this fall. I just finished a really fine essay by Jurgen Moltmann from his book Creating a Just Future. It dates back to 1989, but it feels very contemporary. He sees things in relational terms, and at one point observes: "The living relationship between a human society and its natural environment is determined by the techniques by which human beings extract what they need to eat and live from nature and return their waste products to it." (52)

Clearly, in the current crisis here on the Gulf, there have been techniques which have failed. I don't have the technical expertise to determine if they are good techniques gone awry, or if they were faulty from the start. Indeed, that is a question that bis being asked about deep water drilling in general. Here in Florida, as we enter this election cycle, it's a hot topic. To drill or not to drill? Should Florida's coastline be open to drilling? Or is drilling a technique which is fundametally harmful to the relationship?

While I can't judge the technical merits of drilling, I do have a bit of training in the realm of relationships. And in human relationships, technique does matter. I've spent many, many hours working with men who abuse their wives and lovers. Often, part of that counseling is all about technique--learning new ways of communicating that don't tear at the heart of the relationship.
But there is more to it than technique. For ultimately such men need to learn a whole new way of thinking about the women in their lives. Ultimately they need to come to see them as partners, as equals, as people deserving of their love and respect. And while good technique can be helpful, in the end, it needs to grow out of a transformed attitude, and a transformed understanding. Without that transformation, things never change.

Drilling may or may not be a good technique. We need to figure that out. We also may need to invent some new techniques. But more than that, we need to change our attitude about the earth itself. We need to see the natural world as a partner, deserving of our care and respect.

2010-07-19T14:29:00.001-04:00

Like so many others, I've been holding my breath this past weekend, hoping and praying that the cap will hold on the Deepwater Horizon well. Despite all the oil that has already spilled into the Gulf, there is a measure of relief to be found in the fact that for the most part it has been stopped. Who knows how long it will take to clean up what's already polluting the waters, the beaches and the marshlands? But at least the end of the spillage appears to be in sight. This time.

I suppose that's a rather pessimistic view. And certainly, it is my fervent prayer that this never happens again. But it will take more than prayer to change things. It will take concerted effort on the part of individuals, corporations and government. It will mean changing our personal habits of energy consumption. It will mean putting safety and environmental concern ahead of profit. It will mean fully enforcing existing regulations and creating new ones as needed. And all that is a tall order. A very tall order.

Sunday, my two grandsons were here on island with their Mom and Dad to help us celebrate my wife Linda's birthday.. They arrived in the afternoon, and we spent time at the pool just being a family. Then, Linda and my daughter-in-law and Zach, our oldest grandson, went down to the beach for an hour or so while I cooked dinner. While they were there, Zach dug a big hole in the sand. Little boys (and girls) have probably been doing the same since the dawn of time! This morning though, when I walked the beach, I saw no sign of the hole. It had been smoothed down and filled in by the tide.

It will take more than a night and a change of tide to undo the hole dug in the environment by the oil spill. It will take many nights, and many tides. Years of them, I suspect. I just hope that if and when we are done, we don't forget the hole. I hope we carry away from all of this a new understanding of just how much work it will take for us to make sure other little boys and girls will be able to dig holes in the sand and jump in the waves and collect shells on the shore.

(PHOTO CREDIT: Linda Bradbury-Danner)

2010-07-13T14:32:00.000-04:00

As you cross over the causeway that connects Sanibel Island to the mainland (or "the continent", as some locals call it) one of the most magnificent sights is watching as brown pelicans skim over the water's surface. They are big birds-- their wingspan can reach seventy inches across--and yet they seem to fly effortlessly, gliding through the air with great ease.

Yesterday, twenty-one brown pelicans and eleven northern gannets were released here on the island in hopes that they might find a safer place to live. They had been covered with oil when they were found along the Alabama, Louisiana and Mississippi coastlines. After being cleaned up and rehabilitated they were transported by plane to the area and then set free. According to the local newspaper, they are among the 1085 birds that had been rescued as of yesterday.

No one knows for sure if they will stay here, or fly back home. Brown pelicans it seems have a tendency to return to the place where they first took flight. One can only hope they will avoid getting re-entangled with the oil spill!

Pelicans, of course, are only following their instincts. And if they do return to familiar territory it can hardly be called a matter of poor judgement. Not so we human beings. True, sometimes we just act on instinct, but the reality is we are capable of making choices, for we have God-given free will.

So what choices will we make today? Will we learn from this disaster and choose to live in a different, more environmentally aware way? Will we change some of our wasteful habits? Or, will we simply return to the familiar?

The new pelican residents here on Sanibel may not have a real choice, but we do. Just a few months ago, in November 2009, brown pelicans, which had been threatened back in the first part of the twentieth century by the use of DDT, were finally taken off the endangered species list. Our choices will help determine whether or not they stay off .

(Photo Credit: Mike Baird, www.flikr.com/photos/mikebaird/66530017/)

2010-07-06T16:42:00.000-04:00

Last week our congregation hosted a middle school youth group from the Windemere (FL) United Church of Christ. We provided floor space for their sleeping bags; helped them make arrangements for showers with the local Rec Center; fed them pancakes one morning for breakfast. Nothing extraordinary--just one church helping out another.

The kids and their chaperones worked with a city official and a representative from one of the environmental groups here on the island, the Sanibel-Captiva Conservation Foundation. SCCF, as its known locally, has been instrumental in helping Sanibel be a sanctuary island. It manages over 1300 acres of wild lands here on Sanibel, runs a marine laboratory and a superb nature center with trails, a touch tank and a butterfly house!

The youth group helped plant sea oats. In all they planted nineteen-hundred seedlings. Nineteen-hundred! That's a lot of sea oats! While they may sound rather innocuous, sea oats (uniola paniculata) are actually a very important part of our ecosystem. They can grow to six feet in height, and provide natural protection against the ravages of tropical storms. Their long root systems help to stabilize the loose soils of barrier islands and coastal environments. Unfortunately, they can be fairly easily destroyed by pollutants. As strong as they are--and they are strong in many ways--they can be wiped out by human carelessness.

In the courtyard of our church we have an eternal light created by one of our local artists, a very gifted fellow named Luc Century. It was erected in partnership with the Jewish congregation that shares our facility. It is a beautiful glass cylinder, etched with sea oats. The light itself is powered by a solar panel. It is a constant reminder that even as the sea oats literally help to hold our island together, so the light and love of God holds our world together.

Sea oats may seem rather insignificant in the grand scheme of things. So too things like providing hospitality, creating art, and partnering with folks from other places and other religious backgrounds. But I am convinced such things count for much. I am convinced that every time we stop, as those kids from Windemere did, to tend to the earth, we are making God's love a bit more real in our fragile world. Every time we provide hospitality, every time we partner with folks of differing faith backgrounds, every time we pause to observe something beautiful, we are making God's light a bit more visible in a sometimes darkened world.

Sea oats--who would have imagined?

2010-06-29T13:54:00.000-04:00

I got a rather disturbing e-mail the other day from our Regional Conference Minister (RCM). Our church is part of the Florida Conference of the United Church of Christ, and our region covers the Gulf Coast of Florida. Our RCM had just spent some time in Pensacola Beach and she reported on the conditions there as the oil from Deepwater Horizon finds its way to the Panhandle. She spoke about the specially trained workers who are cleaning up the beaches. She mentioned the drop in tourism. She spoke of shells picked up from the sand, coated with oil. And she talked about how at her hotel "there were tubs of soap, water and scrub brushes because no matter what you did to avoid the stuff it was on your feet."

Here on Sanibel we haven't been hit yet by the slick. We are preparing for it. My wife and I signed up to be part of the Community Coastal Watch effort last week. This is a community where most everybody volunteers. But our watching over the coastline, and the much more rigorous efforts of those who are engaged in the clean up efforts, won't, in the end, save everything. The reality is clear: some things will be lost in all of this. Marshlands. Birds. Fish. Jobs. And they may never be replaced. The effects of the oil spill can't be simply washed off with soap and water.

But for all that, I'm not willing to give in to despair. I am concerned, of course. But I hold out hope that we can learn some valuable lessons from all this. I hold out hope that we can finally come to realize that the earth's resources are not limitless, but rather need to be handled as the fragile gifts that they are.

I take a measure of comfort in something William Sloane Coffin once wrote: "If you believe, as many believers do, in a politically engaged spirituality, and you are trying to save the environment . . . you're bound at times to feel like quitting. But if Jesus never allowed his soul to be cornered into despair . . . who then are we to quit 'fighting the good fight of faith.'" (Credo, 114)

Let's keep fighting the good fight. Let's keep washing one another's feet--but let's also keep marching, praying, working for that day when we all realize what a precious gift we've been given!