Pondering in Other Places

Ever since July of 2010 I have been making posts on this blog.  Almost six hundred since then.  Usually once a week.   Prompted initially by environmental concerns after the massive BP
oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico, this blog has gone on to address very personal concerns, as well as issues impacting the wider world.  Racism, sexism, homophobia, war and peace, gun violence, climate change, and so many other issues.  All the result of this pastor's ponderings on Periwinkle Way.  And other places as well--California, Israel, Trinidad, all over New England, Chicago and during the pandemic lockdown, at home!

But this coming Sunday, April 24, I will conduct my last service as Senior Pastor of the Sanibel Congregational United Church of Christ, which has its facilities on Periwinkle Way.  2050 Periwinkle Way to be specific.  And then I will retire.  While my wife Linda and I will remain here in Southwest Florida, my ponderings will not be taking place on Periwinkle Way.  So this blog, will come to an end with this post.  

They say once on the internet, always on the internet.  So the blog will remain on line.  But there will be no new entries.  I do anticipate starting a new blog once the dust of retirement settles.  There will be ponderings in other places.  And if you want to be notified when that happens, please feel free to leave a contact e-mail in the comments section of this blog, or e-mail me at the church over the next few days.

I have been very grateful for the continued interest in these writings and your loyalty as readers.  As you continue in your own ponderings, might you be blessed with insight and clarity.  

(And if you are in the area, I'd love to greet you in person at that final service which will be held at 10:30 AM, Sunday, April 24, at the church.)

A Lesson from DaVinci

This coming Good Friday my congregation will be presenting a dramatization of Leonardo DaVinci’s famous painting, of the Last Supper. It is a series of costumed monologues, interspersed with music, and all against a projection of the painting in the background.  I've been cast as Judas.  Go wonder!

A story is told about DaVinci and that painting that illustrates how forgiveness works. The great artist had a falling out with a man and decides to exact revenge by depicting Judas with his enemy’s face. After he painted Judas, he went on to paint the face of Christ. But try as he might, he just couldn’t come up with the image he needed. And in the midst of this great mural Jesus’ face was blank. 

Shortly after that, though, DaVinci had a change of heart and forgave his enemy. And then he changed the painting so that Judas no longer resembled the man who had hurt him. That night he had a dream, and in that dream, he saw the face of Christ. He painted it the very next day. Only when he had forgiven his enemy, was he himself able to see the loving, forgiving face of Christ.

As we move through these final days of Lent, as we prepare for the joy of Easter, let us not take shortcuts.  Rather, let us be as willing to forgive and to be forgiven as DaVinci.  Let us clear our hearts and minds for an infilling of the Spirit which brings all things to life!

Have a meaningful Holy Weeks, and a Blessed Easter!

(And, if you are in Southwest Florida the presentation is Friday, April 15 at 7:30 PM.  The church is located at 2050 Periwinkle Way on Sanibel.)

Retirement Ahead: Will I Sleep In?

Three weeks from today I will be able to sleep in if I so choose.  I will be retired.  (My last Sunday here at Sanibel Congregational UCC will be April 24.)
  Knowing myself, I don't really anticipate sleeping in (which in my case means anything after 6:00 AM) but who knows?  I will have that choice and can exercise it if I so desire.

Preparing for retirement has been a long process, one in which I am still engaged.  I read a couple of books, spoken at length with my spiritual director and therapist about the implications of retirement for my spiritual and psychological health and wellbeing.  I am part of a support group (a community of practice in church speak) for those preparing for retirement or newly retired.  I've prayed about it, spoken with friends who are already retired.  Consulted with my financial advisors.  And of course, have had long conversations with my wife Linda.

Frankly I have mixed emotions going into this next phase of my life.  I have been in parish minsitry now for forty-five years.  More than two-thirds of my life!  And while at times it has been frustrating, for the most part it has been a very satisfying experience and a career well-lived.  Frankly, I will miss having a regular pulpit.  But I also anticipate having more discretion in how I spend my time and being free of many of the administrative aspects of my work.

I realize my experience is far from unique.  But it is my only experience of this transition, and so it feels unique.  I am not overly concerned, nor am I overly excited.  When people say "Congratulations!" I am not sure what I am being congratulated for.  Enduring?  Having a good career?  Being able to retire?  But mostly I am grateful.  Grateful for my career, grateful for the people i have served with, and grateful for the resources that allow this transition to happen.

Will I sleep in?  Check with me in three weeks!

Worry Warts All!

I am convinced we are a nation of worry warts.  Everywhere you turn somebody is worried about something.  We are so stressed out by our anxieties that whole industries have been developed to help manage our stress and deal with our worries.  It doesn't matter who you are, everyone seems to worry.

As preoccupied with worry as our culture is today, its not a new problem.  Human beings have always had a tendency to worry.  Our unique ability to think about the future, to dream and plan, to visualize that which lies before us, is a wonderful gift.  But its downside is that we can also imagine the worst.  And out of our ability to conceptualize future mishaps and disasters, grow our worries.

Jesus knew this.  Jesus knew what it meant to worry.  And he also know how debilitating it could be.  In a lot of stress management courses and books today, one reads or hears about prioritizing.  But Jesus knew it all along.  If you want to minimize worry in your life, the first thing you must do, he said, is get your priorities straight.  And your first priority must be what Jesus calls, "striving for the kingdom of God."  In other words we must put God's way of love and concern for others first in our lives.  Our first concern should be seeking to live as God would have us live..  Love God, love neighbor.  It won't eliminate all our problems, but it will minimize our worries.

 

Love Still Makes a Family

This past week the Florida Legislature passed the Parental Rights in Education Bill.  Often referred to as the Don't Say Gay Bill, it is full of legal language and in sections very detailed.  But the section of the bill which has raised the most concern and the most conversation is Section 1001.42, Subsection 8, Paragraph C which is labeled STUDENT WELFARE.  It reads:  "Classroom instruction by school personnel or third parties on sexual orientation or gender identity may not occur in kindergarten through grade 3 or in a manner that is not age-appropriate or developmentally appropriate for students in accordance with state standards."

Nowhere does the bill say you "can't say gay"--but it does raise the question of what you can say.  What you may say.  If, for instance, a little boy in second grade has two lesbian mothers, and another child asks why he has two mommies and no daddy, what is a teacher supposed to say?  Is saying something as simple as, sometimes two women love each other and want to have a family, classroom instruction?  What if the teacher responds, you'll have to ask your parents, isn't that a form of instruction as well?  Doesn't it convey an unspoken message that somehow the little bay's family is so different we can't even talk about it?  Doesn't it convey to that child that his family is somehow subpar?  If I were a second-grade teacher with a child whose parent or parents is or are LGBTQ I would be at a loss as to how to make certain that child was made to feel fully welcomed in my classroom.  Just as they are. 

Public schools are supposed to be just that.  Schools open to the public.  The whole public.  Everyone is supposed to be welcome, regardless of who they or their parents are in terms of race, gender, sexual orientation, religion, ethnic background, and so on.  Perhaps the real, underlying debate here is over the purpose of public education.  Yes, part of the expectation is that students will learn how to read, write, work with numbers, and so on.  A democratic society relies on its citizens being literate.  But it also relies on their ability to work with others.  And to do that you must first be willing to accept the ways in which human beings can be and are different.  And that acceptance doesn't happen overnight, it begins in childhood.  Kindergarten doesn't need to feature full on biological discussions of sexual differences, but teachers do need to feel free to simply say love makes a family.

Ukraine: Nuclear Fears, Biblical Hope

 

One of the most concerning aspects of the war in Ukraine has been the assault on nuclear power plants by the Russian military.  Memories of Chernobyl and Three Mile Island come readily to mind as we consider the danger this creates.  Such moves really up the ante.  All that notwithstanding, we must not give up hope that the situation can be bettered.

Over the years I’ve come to believe there are three components to hope.  First, it means honestly assessing a situation—what’s right here, and what’s wrong.  What can be left untouched, and what needs to be changed, corrected, transformed?  Second, hope means committing oneself to doing all within one’s own power to bring about the necessary changes.  How can I contribute to the change that is necessary in this situation?  And third, hope means recognizing we may not be able to do it all ourselves and will need to trust that God is truly at work in the world.  Hope, you see, is not a feeling or an idea, it is a conscious decision.  To be a person of hope, then, one must be honest, committed and filled with trust.  Eliminate any of these factors, and hope disappears more quickly than bedbugs in the presence of an exterminator.

No one knows for sure where the war in Ukraine will lead.  It is a situation fraught with danger.  We must encourage our leaders to be cautious yet firm in their responses to these challenges.  As a nation we must honestly assess the dangers and be committed to doing all in their power to bringing about a change for the better, trusting that good can be accomplished.  We can bow to the culture of fear, or we can live as people of hope.

Perhaps it would help for me tell you about a gutted out old industrial facility, this one not in Ukraine, but rather in Massachusetts.  I was there a few summers ago.  It used to house a company that manufactured trigger devices for our nuclear arsenal.  But the facility closed down in the mid-eighties.  Today it houses the Massachusetts Museum of Contemporary Art.  Instead of creating weaponry that can kill thousands, even millions, those who work within its walls create life-giving art and music.  Swords beaten into plowshares.
  

Let us live as a people of hope, rather than fear.   

 

Mud Season, Sanibel and Lent

 

So this is Lent.  It always seems a little odd here on Sanibel.  Growing up—and indeed for most of my adulthood--Lent began in the midst of snow and cold.  It was a dank and dreary time as we waded through the final throes of winter.  The slow dirge-like hymns of Lent seemed to fit perfectly our weather-weary hearts!  And as March drifted into mud season, as it was called in northern New England, we eagerly looked forward to longer days, warmer temperatures and the early flowers of spring.  Easter, with its bright colored clothing and vibrantly hued flowers provided the perfect antidote to our mud season doldrums.  Not only was Christ raised from the dead, but our spirits were raised up as well.

 But it’s different here on Sanibel.  Winter is, very arguably, the loveliest season of the year!  The crowds on the beaches, the cars on Periwinkle Way, and the visitors in our pews all bear testimony to the fact that this is the place to be in March.  Easter will come in all its glory—but the contrast will not be the bit of drama that it was up North.  So it is that if Lent is to have its impact here where it is unaided by the world of nature, we must take on the responsibility for examining the dank and dreary spots ourselves.  We must be willing to stop and consider how drab our lives would be without the love of God made known in the Resurrection.  Not that we should pull ourselves into some sort of emotional or spiritual hole, but rather that we should be honest in our appraisal of life.  Then, and only then, will we be able to fully appreciate the wonder of that great and special day we call Easter. 

 
That, of course, is how it should be anywhere that Christians live—New England, Minnesota or Southwest Florida.  But stripped of the external reminders brought about by winters up north, we must be especially alert to the importance of internal reflection and preparation in Lent.