11.19.23 "Therefore" Westminster Presbyterian Church, Pasadena, CA

 Psalm 123; 1 Thessalonians 5.1-11

This coming week, we’ll celebrate Thanksgiving … 

I like Thanksgiving … it’s all about food … 

No last-minute gift shopping, no hurried wrapping of packages, and where’s that scotch tape, and those ribbons we been saving and repurposing for years?

I like Thanksgiving … it’s all about a Table … 

We gather together, in times and places, diverse and sometimes troubled … with abundance, and sometimes not … with joy, and sometimes with tears … 

Some are missing from the Table … loved ones and friends, whom the winds of time have swept away from our embrace, our love, our delight, our joy.

Yet, the winds of time blow us kisses and bring us favor and faith … new members of the family, new chapters of life, unexpected pleasures … goodness is just around the corner.

I like Thanksgiving … it’s all about the kitchen … potatoes peeled, carrots boiled, brown butter sauce made with care … oh yeah, and the turkey … we used to stuff ‘em, but health rules dictate stuffing to be baked separately, and that’s ok with me - one way or the other, I really don’t care, but I’ll take some oysters in mine, if you please … but however it’s done, a scoop of stuffing, and some gravy, and we’ve got some serious eating to do.

Therefore:

I like Thanksgiving … it’s the heart and soul of a human being … thanks - giving … as far as I can tell, great people are those who give thanks … who understand life to be a matter of grace … life given … from the hand of a generous and kindly God … at work in all things for good.

Thanksgiving humanizes us … keeps us in touch with the deep mysteries of life, the needs of others … there are always those in need … 

Mostly through no fault of their own … life takes a lot of hard turns …

war … disease … drought … famine … 

markets driven by greed and corruption … 

changing times … a speeding car …

people left behind … jobs lost, hope destroyed.

Therefore, 

I grow tired of those who complain about freeloaders and the undeserving poor … 

I grow tired of those who send their thoughts and prayers rather than a check.

I grow tired of those who speak of Jesus, and then spew out their hatred.

I grow tired of those who want to hang the Ten Commandments on class room walls, but can’t give a hungry kid a free lunch.

I grow tired of those who say “thanks” … without the giving …

Therefore:

I like Thanksgiving … a reminder of things wonderful and deep, glorious and sweet …  

Maybe farm families a hundred years ago had a better chance of understanding something of the wonder of it all … their carrots came from the ground, and not in a shiny plastic bag … their butter came from Bessey the Cow and not in neat little sticks … their turkey was raised on the farm with care, the ham came from a pig with a name … the potatoes were dug, the corn was harvested, the dough was kneaded and baked to hot crusty perfection … the pumpkins in the backyard were turned into pies supreme and dolloped with hand-whipped cream.

Paul the Apostle gives thanks … all the time, everywhere … not because life is easy for Paul - it isn’t … but at the center of life, in the midst of the pain and distress that comes to us all, there stands Christ … Christ the cornerstone of all faith, hope, and love.

Christ who continues to transform us … 

Therefore:

be who you are, children of the day, 

children of light … 

children of the great covenant of God!

I recently read a fine biography by Ronald C. White, my neighbor and friend at the Grove.

Ron’s book, On Great Fields, centers on General Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain, the Civil War hero of Little Round Top at Gettysburg, and other major battles … 

Chamberlain was wounded several times, and even once, on the Petersburg battlefield, he was not expected to live, but he did … with pain and discomfort, recurring infections and the need for multiple surgeries, for the remaining 50 years of his life … 

before and after the war, a professor, 

a college president, a writer, 

public speaker, governor of Maine, 

a husband, a father, and always the visionary.

Things were not easy for him … there were plenty of disappointments, setbacks, losses, and frustrations … 

He had to haul himself back to Christ many a time.

Jog his memory: who am I, what am I? What’s important?

The important things: what he learned as a child, from his mother and father, and good preachers who proclaimed the gospel with intelligence and passion … teachers and professors and good friends who embodied the best of human virtues and a godly sense.

I don’t do very well with difficult times … how about you?

I’m vulnerable, for lots of reasons … I can dive into dark places, and lay awake at night, tossing and turning,  my stomach churning, as horrible thoughts race through my mind, much of it focused on imagined futures, and the present distress of our times.

Things were not easy for Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain … but his life is a lesson in learning.

He was a student of the classics … ancient Greece, the Roman Empire … he studied the Bible with care and discipline … he read widely and learned much …

When the Civil War broke out, he watched his students volunteer, and finally, he could no longer stay in the safety of the college, he volunteered for duty …

He was commissioned to lead the Maine 20th, a thousand-man regiment, but he declined to lead it, and asked rather for another man more ably trained in military matters … Chamberlain said, I have always been interested in military matters, but of those things I do not know, I know how to learn.

The Apostle Paul was a man who knew how to learn … 

I’m looking right now at people who know how to learn … Westminster is in a learning curve, and that’s a powerful good thing … I see people learning of Christ, learning the faith, learning how to love … learning after covid and all the changes that have come our way.

We know how to learn … 

Therefore, says Paul, encourage one another and build up each other.

We do it every Sunday … we make our trek to church … like ancient pilgrims on the road … travelers from afar … we gather together.

We worship God: we turn ourselves inside out … for a few profound moments, we’re focused on something other than ourselves: hymns and readings, prayers and sermons, smiles and hugs … we’ve done it before … we’ll do it again; yet every Sunday is new.

Just like Thanksgiving … turkey and mashed potatoes, gravy and stuffing … we’ve had them before … we’ll have them again, but every time we sit at the Table, it’s new … 

Therefore, says T.S. Eliot:

We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.

On this week of Thanksgiving, we’ll love one another, miss those who have gone, rejoice for the newly arrived … we will count our blessings, we will face the day, we will pray and pass the potatoes … we’ve done it before, we’ll do it again, and know it all, for the first time.

Therefore … Happy Thanksgiving.

Hallelujah and Amen!

"A Refresher Course in Thanksgiving"

First Congregational Church of Los Angeles ...

Philippians 4.4-14

In my seventy-first year of life …

My forty-eighth year of marriage …

My forty-fifth year of ordination …

My third year of grandparenting …

I’ve learned a few things …

In all likelihood, just a few …

But of those lessons learned … 

If I could go back in time, one thing I’d do is pay a little more attention to the people around me …

The butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker …

And Mrs. Blout … she led opening exercises for Sunday School, every Sunday morning, at the Third Presbyterian Church in Altoona, PA … I would spend a little more time with her … to know her story … what made her laugh, what made her cry … her faithfulness … I’d pay a little more attention to Mrs. Blout.

A spiritual exercise I learned years ago …

Walk a street slowly … look at things … small things … sidewalk paving stones … a gum wrapper tossed aside … a pop can in the gutter … ponder the story in each of them … someone designed that pop can … someone slacked their thirst with its contents … someone threw it aside when they were done with it … were they sad, were they glad … in a rush, or going nowhere at all?

Everything has a story, where it began, where it ends … probe the story, play with it, embellish it, let it grow … all the people behind that pop can … the sugar cane and the farmer, the factory and the worker … the trucker who brought it into town, the teen behind the counter who sold it to the thirsty customer.

Whenever my children went anywhere, I’d always say to them: “Use all of your senses … smell the odors, taste the foods, hear the sounds, see the colors, touch the textures … store it all away in your memories.”

From the smallest of things to the largest of stories … in everything, the whole world … in every person, humanity … in every tree, a forest … in every mountain, a mountain range … in every person, God … 

The stuff of life … all around us … joy, terror; smiles and trials … folks on their way to a hospital bedside, maybe on their way to a new job … off to a wedding - maybe their own … on the first leg of a well-deserved vacation … some on their way to a funeral … some on their way to new beginnings; some on their way to bitter endings.

In Graham Green’s novel, The Power and the Glory, a Mexican priest, jailed for observing the Mass, in a time and place when Catholicism was outlawed … behind bars, the priest reflects:

When you visualized a man or woman carefully, you could always begin to feel pity … that was a quality of God’s image carried with it, writes Green … when you saw the lines at the corners of the eyes, the shape of the mouth, how the hair grew, it was impossible to hate. Hate was just a failure of imagination.

Imagination? All of us can use a little imagination now and then … the up-close and personal kind that really sees the eyes of another … to really look at people … and things … and places … to use all of our senses - to really see and truly feel the world around us … 

When I lived in Detroit, I did a lot of bicycling … in two very large cemeteries … great for biking: well-kept roads, little traffic … lovely trees, manicured lawns … 

And acres of tombstones … and all the names … and all the words carved into stone: “devoted mother, loving wife, beloved grandmother.” 

I could always hear the assurance of the dead: “We made it, and you will, too.”

Through thick and thin, sick and sin … from wilderness to Promised land …

The great stories of our faith: a pillar of cloud by day, fire by night … manna in the morning, water from a rock … 

Voices of wisdom: Joshua, Jeremiah … Miriam and Deborah … Matthew, Mark, Luke and John … Paul and Peter … 

Voices to encourage, voices to help … when Pope Francis paid us a visit, he spoke of 20th Century voices, Dorothy Day and Thomas Merton …

I could add to that Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Martin Luther King, Jr., Mother Teresa …

Writers like John Steinbeck and poets like Robinson Jeffers … 

Artists like Georgia O’Keeffe and David Horsey of the LA Times …

Past political leaders: Teddy Roosevelt and his trust busting … his cousin, FDR with Social Security … Eisenhower and the Interstate Highway system … John F. Kennedy, Ich bin ein Berliner …who was killed this day, 52 years ago in Dallas … Lord, have mercy.

Voices … lots of voices, voices all around us … voices of the dead; voices of the living … voices of hope and voices of healing … voices to challenge our complacencies … point the way ahead … voices to help us take up the work of kindness and mercy … voices to remind us of life’s high ambitions and our great ideals …

Pay attention … and give thanks … for a million small and wonderful things … for big voices and smart people … faith, hope and love; grace, mercy and peace … the gospel of light … folks who believe in you and me … teachers and preachers … and a kajillion other people, and billions of light years and the mystery of space and time.

Paul the Apostle says:

Rejoice in the LORD always … do not worry about anything … but in everything … by prayer … with thanksgiving …

After church today, our Thanksgiving Dinner … later this week, Thanksgiving Day … oh, I know, holidays are sometimes bittersweet … and more the occasion for tears and heartache …

But wherever and however, pay attention to the small things … let your imagination dance … give heed to memories that are good and hopes that are sweet …

And with that, let me close with a poem, of my own writing (LORD, have mercy) an Ode to Mashed Potatoes …

Let me count the ways I love thee …

The common tator … a tuber … from the ground …

Just like you and me …

Maybe we feel something in common with this common ground thing …

They’re not picked, like apples or pears …

They’re dug …

Like good music … or hangin’ out with folks we love …

Lots of different sizes … and colors … in a lot of different places …

We do have a lot in common, don’t we?

With the humble potato …

Peel ‘em … if ya’ want …

But I like to leave the skins on …

Adds texture … as it should be … the whole potato …

As God intended.

Into a pot of water …

Turn on the heat … lots of good things need a little heat …

Cook ‘em not too hard … 

Test ‘em with a fork …

Drain ‘em and put ‘em back into the pot …

And now the good part …

A couple of butter chunks … 

A generous splash of cream … I mean: be generous …

Maybe even some cream cheese …

A little horseradish?

Rosemary?

Thyme?

Salt and pepper …

And a little elbow grease …

Smash and mash these remarkable gifts from God …

Not too much, just enough …

To blend it all together …

Taste to your heart’s content …

That’s what I love about cooking …

We get to sample everything before you do.

Can it get better?

You bet … 

On the plate they go …

A fork-full will satisfy all your desires for comfort …

Just like home … 

But like all good things … these good things go well 

With a chorus of other good things ….

Gravy … 

Giblet gravy …

Corn and slabs of carefully sliced turkey, neat and precise … though I prefer the dark meat … a tad bit unruly …

Cranberry relish on the side …

And how about the country cousin, the sweet potato … with its famous hat, 

The marshmallow … all white on the inside, with golden trim …

And who knows what else … 

Start with potatoes, and who knows where it’ll end.

But start with potatoes … 

A very common thing …

And it will end well …

As all good things do …

Happy Thanksgiving … Amen!

July 14, 2013, "Eyes and Heart Wide Open"

Psalm 111; 1 Thessalonians 5.16-18

His name was Garth.

In 5^th or 6^th grade, living in large two-story grey clapboard house, slightly dilapidated, some peeling paint, with a porch slanted downward at a precarious angle, across the street from Third Presbyterian Church in Altoona, PA - in a tough part of town, with more police and fire calls than any other precinct, just a few blocks off the mainline of the Penn-Central Railroad.

The church had a neighborhood children’s program called Thursday’s Children, because we met Thursday afternoons after school. 

I was always there … and made friends with the children, and the families that lived around the church. 

I had an 18-foot white fiberglass Lincoln Canoe - a beauty it was, and did a fair amount of fishing with it - mostly in Raystown Lake backed up behind Raystown Dam - one of those beautiful mountain reservoirs with dozens of sidearms reaching back into the wooded hillsides - great fishing, and if no fish were caught, that was okay, too, just because it was good to be out on the lake, in that quiet fiberglass canoe, whispering through the water.

It was too big for me to take out by myself, so I usually had a friend to go with me … sometimes Donna … and sometimes my brother who lived in Pittsburgh.

Knowing that I had plans for fishing with a friend later in the week, I asked Garth if he’d like to go with us, and he quickly said Yes! I checked with his folks and all was good. 

I had a fishing rod for him, all the stuff he needed and a can of worms … Garth had never been fishing before.

When I helped him bait the hook with a wriggling worm, he was wide-eyed as could be … I don’t think it’s possible for eyes to be any wider, and with the hook baited, and plopped into the water, with a red and white bobber, it wasn’t long before he caught a fish … he was one amazed young boy … I think his eyes probably took a few days to return to normal size.

I don’t know what happened to Garth, and I have no idea if he’s living or dead, and if he’s living, I have no idea if he’d remember the day he went fishing with me … but I’ve never forgotten him, and his wide eyes - the sheer amazement of life for him that day on Raystown Lake, in the beautiful green mountains of Central Pennsylvania, baiting a hook, watching a bobber suddenly pulled down by a fish, and me telling Garth, “Now, quick, set the hook,” and watching him pull in his first fish.

His eyes were wide … the kind of eyes I want for myself … wide eyes to see the world … and a heart as wide as my eyes.

When eyes and heart are wide open, good things get inside of us … good things that make us good and kind and thankful.

Jesus said, 

The eye is the lamp of the body. So, if your eye is healthy, your whole body will be full of light; but if your eye is unhealthy, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light in you is darkness, how great is the darkness! [Matthew 6.22-23].

Whenever my children travelled, I always told them, “Use all of your senses wherever you are.”

“Sample it all if you can … burn the images on your mind, and you can carry those images with you the rest of your life … you can always journey back to a beautiful mountain or walk a sun-washed beach, if you carry those memories in your mind.”

Wide eyes and a wide-open heart.

To see the world around us - its colors and shapes and angles; don’t just look at things, but see them … the dog laying on the grass in the shade of a tree on a hot day … the man walking hurriedly by you, on some errand, intent on who knows what kind of business … 

Watch faces and hands … pay attention to the lady pouring your coffee and the people sitting across from you on the bus … study them well, for they are God’s image, right next to you, across the aisle from you … God pouring your coffee … God going home after a hard day’s work.

Listen to the world - bird song and barking dogs and cars honking and people talking at a nearby table - sure, go ahead; eavesdrop a bit - listen to the world - the wind in the trees, the crash of a wave, the boom and crackle of fireworks.

Smell the world - spices and seasonings  - food, fried and boiled, broiled and grilled - baked bread … smell the world - wood smoke and garbage; a morning rain and fresh plowed earth … 

Touch the world, feel its textures … the rough bark of a pine tree, the feel of sand in our hand … cool water washing our face on a hot day, or a hot shower on cold night … the comfort of our pillow, the warmth of a quilt … the hand of one you love so dearly … 

Taste the world - what people eat and what people drink … the crunch of a crisp apple, the smooth taste of a fine wine, a good bourbon on the rocks; ice cream and hot fudge; a steaming-hot baked potato; roasted lamb or fresh fish … sample it all … not all of it will taste good … some of our tastes are acquired tastes … and what’s delicious in one man’s home is not so good for another … 

But use all the senses - God-given senses … see the world, listen to the world, smell the world, touch the world, taste the world.

The Psalmist said, Oh taste and see that the LORD is good [Psalm 34.8].

How interesting that the Psalmist refers to taste as a way to see … taste and see that the LORD is good … I can only think of good bread and fine wine … a roast lamb or an ox - or whatever else pleases the palette and quenches our thirst and smells good to the LORD God Almighty … the Passover Meal and the LORD’s Supper … taste and see, that the LORD is good.

The world is good and full of beauty … clouds above us and children at play … our favorite aunt and a splendid meal … right here in church, hymns to gladden the heart and a gospel to call us to life.

Rejoice says Paul the Apostle … rejoice always … 

And then we can pray:

Pray without ceasing … the kind of prayer that has little to do with asking and a whole of thanking … though this world is filled with hurt and sorrow, this world still has a surplus of good people doing good things, running the good race of faith, hope and love … faithful servants who never give up, who speak kindly, think deeply and live bravely, and bend the arc of history toward what is good and right … 

Pray without ceasing; pray for the big things … like Miss America, who wants world peace … but pray for small things, too  - like good schools for our kids and enough jobs in this nation with decent wages so a man can provide for his family, a woman can care for her children.

And then, says Paul:

Give thanks, in all circumstances … because this is God’s will … and if it’s God’s will, then it’s good for us … God asks of us only what’s good and right … to give thanks opens the heart and mind … 

Paul is no fool … Paul knows how hard life can be … and we do, too ...

Justice fails, crime goes unpunished … women’s rights are denied, and a 17-year old boy is dead, and somehow or other that’s okay … all over the place, things go wrong, and the wrong wins - sin prevails, evil holds the upper hand; insanity wins the day - My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?

But in the end of it all, Jesus says, Father, into your hands I commend my spirit … the work is finished!

Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name ...

Giving thanks relieves all kinds of stress … makes like easier … eases the hurt and stress we all feel … the disappointment and the anger … giving thanks lifts burdens and lightens our mood, turns our face, even if just for a moment, to God and to God’s love at work in all things for good.

I keep thinking of what Corrine said to me last week Sunday when I asked how she was doing, “I’ve seen better days,” she said, “but I’m grateful for what I have.”

An honest statement of things … “I’ve seen better days” … 

When the days add up for us, and the body isn’t what it used to be … aches and pains keep us company most of the time … our mortality begins to show more often then we like … better days, indeed … behind us now … when the past is whole lot longer than our future … when we find ourselves standing at the head of the line … no one ahead of us any longer … we’re next in line for the end of the line … we’re at the end of the street.

But “I’m thankful for what I have,” Corrine added … 

“I’m thankful for what I have.”

Eyes and heart wide open!

And in all things, to God be the glory.

Amen and Amen!