In Gratitude

Sometimes gratitude lists seem a bit trivial--just the idea of setting down on paper things for which you are grateful can be a meaningless excercise.  On the other hand, it can be a good way to remind oneself of the many ways life is good.  So here goes--I am sure I will leave something or someone off this list, but here is what comes to mind this week of Thanksgiving, 2019.

I am thankful for . . .

Having faith, not blind faith, but faith informed by reason and made richer by emotion.

My wife, Linda, who brings a bit of common sense into my sometimes overly intellectualized life and who cares for me in so many ways.

My mother (and my late father) who gave me so much as a child including the love of reading, the love of music, the love of theater and the love of God.

My children, Matt, Bruce and Liz, each of whom provide me with ever new challenges and delights.

My six grandchildren, Zak, Amirrah, Chris, Haley, Megan and Jyzelle, who keep reminding me that while the world is an ever changing place love can be, should be, is a constant.

My friends, both old and new, especially Charlie, who I've known since third grade, Jerry who has traveled the clergy journey with me lo these many years, and Gil, who helps me stay on the straight and narrow.

My calling, which for over forty years has allowed me to impact people's lives in ways I do not always realize, and which has provided me a way to use my God given talents.

My congregations, the one I now serve on Sanibel, and those of the past, all of which have left indelible marks on my life.

The freedoms I enjoy as an American, especially the freedom of and from religion and the freedom of speech.

And so much more:  books, pizza, Beethoven and the Beatles, hot showers, the poetry of Mary Oliver, Rumi and Billy Collins, books, Sibelius and the Gershwins, the legacy of Martin Luther King, the Brothers and Sisters of the Way, health
insurance and good health care, our partner congregation Temple Bat Yam, my Rotary Club  . . . .

For each of these and so much more, all I can say is thank you.  That and a wish that your list might be a rich and as full as mine.  Happy Thanksgiving!  I am grateful for each of you, my readers!

Challenged in Faith by Richard Rohr

I am a regular subscriber to the daily meditation published by Richard Rohr, a Franciscan priest working out of New Mexico.  He is well-known in many circles for his deeply insightful commentary on Christianity and modern life.

Recently, in an e-mail sent out to his very large readership on his behalf, he was quoted at length:
"Christianity," he was quoted as saying, "is a lifestyle--a way of being in the world that is simple, non-violent, shared and loving.  However, we made it into an established 'religion' (and all that goes with that) and avoided actually changing lives.  One could be warlike, greedy, racist, selfish, and vain in most of Christian history and still believe that Jesus is 'personal Lord and Savior."  The world has no time for such silliness anymore.  The suffering on Earth is too great."

Rohr, of course, is a part of one branch of the established religion called Christianity (the Roman Catholic branch) and I am a part of another branch (the Protestant/United Church of Christ branch).  I don't think he is suggesting we abandon institutional religion.  I think he is suggesting we need to re-examine our institutions.  We need to ask our individual churches, and the Church Universal if we are going about the business of transforming lives, or are we simply engaged in institutional maintenance.

I for one, believes the world needs the Church--but only when we are a gathering of those who seek to live the lifestyle Rohr describes.  A lifestyle promoted
by Jesus.  A lifestyle that leads to a better world, where peace and justice, healing and love, are the norm and not the exception.

I am grateful for thinkers/doers like Rohr who challenge me in how I live out my my faith.  I hope you are as well.

Harriet: A Brief Review

"Slavery," Harriet Tubman once said, "is the next thing to hell."  And, clearly, in the recently released film Harriet, that is made perfectly clear, time and time again.

The title role is played by Cynthia Ervio, and it is a powerful performance.  She manages to capture the intensity of Tubman time and time again.

The story of her work as a conductor on the Underground Railroad often raises a real measure of tension, and successfully demonstrates the risks taken by Tubman and those she led north.  Tubman necessarily worked in secret, and was named Moses both by detractors and those who relied on her skill to bring them to safety.  And that is far from the only religious or spiritual element in the film.  Indeed, through out there are scenes in church's, scenes involving Quakers, scenes showing the role of prayer and vision in her work.  After all, as Harriet says in one point in the film, "God don't mean people to own people."

One of the most effective aspects of the film is its use of music.  Often that music is presented in mere snatches, but several plot points turn on it.  The use of spirituals is augmented by modern composition as well, including the stirring anthem sung under the closing credits.

This is a film we all need to see.  This is a film that tells a story that we all need to hear.

This is a film that demonstrates why Harriet Tubman belongs on the twenty dollar bill.

Pueblo: Why We Went to Israel

This past spring my colleague and friend Steve Fuchs co-led a trip to Israel.  Steve is the rabbi of Bat Yam--Temple of the Islands, the Reform Jewish congregation that shares our building.  Steve and I decided sometime ago to invite our congregants to join us on this intentionally interfaith trip.  And they did.  Forty of them.  Twenty Jews, and twenty Christians.

Naturally we wanted to visit the various holy sites in that part of the world.  And we did.  And we wanted to meet some of the folks who live there--and we did, we met Jews, Christians and Muslims.  Ate with them, worshipped with them, learned from them.  We wanted to share prayers and meals and  meet new friends, and we did.

But more importantly, we wanted to witness to the reality that Christians and Jews can work, live and even travel together!  Because, as we were reminded once again by the arrest last night in Pueblo, Colorado of a white supremacist intent on blowing up a synagogue there, not all people believe that to be true.  Not all people believe God calls us to love one another.   "I hate [Jews] with a passion," the would be bomber told authorities, "They need to die."

We went to Israel together for all sorts of reasons, but one of them was because anti-Semitism is very much a real part of modern life in America.  And we just don't believe in it.  And neither does God.

(Photo:  Rabbi Stephen Fuchs and the Rev. Dr. John H. Danner, near the Mediterranean Sea in Israel.)

Wildfires and Worries

Over the summer of 2013 my wife Linda and I took a trip out to the west coast.  While we were there we came close to wildfires burning in northern California and threatening redwoods.  I have thought of that trip more than once over the last few days, and remembered a poem I wrote at the time.  I share it with you this week.



WILD WOODS, WILD FIRES

I.

Ancient trees,
Planted before nation
Planted before Calvin and Muslims and Caesar Augustus,
Planted by wind or chance,
Older than dirt
That holds them up.

II.

"They're twenty-five miles away,"
The waitress says
Laying down our burgers and slaw.
"Somedays the smoke here's so thick
You have to put a hankie to your face."

And then she leaves to wait on others
As if burning forests
Were just one more way
To pass time with tourists.

You can tell, though,
She's worried.

--John H. Danner
(This poem originally appeared in the Island Sun)

A poem, and our prayers for the trees, the animals and the people
in the paths of the fires.

Saved on Boston Common

I've been thinking about some of the folks who have served as mentors to me over the years.  And one of them was Dr. Earl Kent Brown.  Kent was my First Reader on my PhD dissertation, and a very wise soul.  

I went to Boston University, and Kent lived just down the street from the main part of that massive urban campus.  He didn't own a car, and did a lot of walking all over that great city.  

In the heart of Boston one finds the Common.  Centuries back it was the grazing ground for cows and sheep owned by Bostonians.  Today, it is the gathering space for all sorts of people.  Clowns and musicians; business folk on lunch break; street people hoping for a scrap of lunch teenagers on skateboards, runners, sunbathers and just plain walkers, like my friend Kent.

One also finds there a wider assortment of religious and political views.  Hare Krishnas will invite you to a vegetarian dinner at a nearby ashram; conservatives will offer you a red hat; some local politician is bout to want to shake your hand and assure your vote; and often a clean-cut Christian young man or woman will approach you with the question, "Have you been saved?"

Now my friend Kent was as liberal as Methodists ever get.  He was also one of gentlest, kindest, most Christ-like folk I have ever known.  He devoted his life to being a teacher of the Church.  He stood about 6'6" and must have weighed close to 300 pounds.  Maybe he didn't look saved--whatever the case, more often than not, when Kent would walk through the Common one of those clean-cut kids would approach him and ask, "Have you been born again? Have you been saved?"

Inevitably the questioner had in mind a very particular understanding of what it means to be born again, to be saved.  No doubt exists in my mind that Kent Brown was a committed follower of Jesus.  But his understanding of what that means would probably be too loosely defined for his questioner.  And so, when asked, "Have you been saved," rather than get involved in a long debate, he would simply respond, "Yes, two thousand years ago."

I miss Kent--and am grateful he was a part of my life!

Thank You, Rex

A friend of mine died in the past few days.  Not a real close friend, but a friend nonetheless.  We would run into each other a couple of times a month, but we didn't socialize together.  I suppose some might even use the word acquaintance to describe our relationship to one another.

Whatever the case, the thing I most valued about my friend was his sense of humor, and his willingness to share that humor with others.  He was a big fan of puns, and on a daily basis he would post a cartoon on Facebook that usually involved some sort of wordplay.  One of his last postings showed two chickens standing in front of a barn.  One of them is wearing a kilt (quite the image!)  "Yes," says the kilt-wearing bird, "I went on Ancestry.com to do some research and discovered I'm Scottish.  In fact, my family is part of the McNugget clan."   When I saw that I literally laughed out loud.  And over the course of the next couple of days, shared it with a number of folks.

My friend will be missed by many people for all sorts of reasons.  Things far more important in some ways than cartons and puns.  But even those of us on the fringes of his life will miss the way he was able to bring a bit of light and a touch of humor to each day.  I will do well to not only remember that in the days ahead, but to emulate it as well.

So, did you hear the one about the chicken that crossed the road?