A Metaphor for Relationship

 

If there's one thing that Education for Ministry (EfM) has given me is a whole fountain of new things to reflect on. EfM is usually a four-year course, but I'm in my fourteenth year with it and still learning new things and acquiring new points to consider.

I had to attend a yearly training seminar like I do every year. It keeps me accredited as a mentor for my group and also gives me an opportunity for new experiences. If I find I'm not good with something, I can ask that we cover it in the seminar, and I can learn to do better. If I'm reasonably strong on something, I can share my experience and knowledge with others to help them later in their own journey as mentors.

I attended a training seminar last month, and, like every year, my batteries got recharged, just as my brain got filled with new ideas and techniques. I gained new insights that hopefully will serve my group well. I also came back with new things to reflect on later to gain insights I could apply to my life as a mentor and as a Christian.

Like many of them, a simple question opened the group to personal reflection and sharing. We were asked to answer the question, "What kitchen gadget represents your relationship with God?" It sounds a bit goofy, taken out of context. Still, it is a kind of question we use as a check-in on our group members, giving them a chance to respond and incorporate how their past week has gone. Some answers are amusing, some painful to hear, others uplifting, but all are insights that can start any one of us on a meditational journey of our own sometime later.

It's funny, but simple questions are often the hardest to answer. I don't remember how I answered that one when it was raised in one of our sessions, but it's come back for a second round of meditation and seeking. My first thought is that I would be a spatula, always turning things over to find out where I am and where I am going in my relationship with God. I could also be a whisk or hand mixer combining various ingredients into a unified whole before adding to something else to make a cake, an omelet, a sauce for a stirfry, or a milkshake. God comes in as a recipe to follow to produce a product to give me pleasure, delight, or sustenance or to give to others as a sign of love, comfort, or simply for the joy of giving.

There are so many other ways I could answer. I could be a paper towel to clean up a mess I made before God knocks on my door for a visit or a bundt cake pan I love because of the design it gives to the baked cake. Maybe I am a strainer that separates something unwanted from what needs to be kept, with God deciding which is which. There seems to be no end to what I could be or opportunities to ask myself the question later.

One conclusion I could draw is that I want to please God and to love, support, and comfort my neighbor, just as Jesus directed. Another is that even if I make a mistake or a mess, God forgives me for it and helps me clean it up, with no loss of love from God. 

I love questions like this that actually make me think about something important – my relationship with God. It can also change if I pursue the insights using a different ordinary thing, feeling, or situation. It is a mental and spiritual exercise, each being important in its own realm.

What kitchen gadget would represent your relationship with God? Give it a try. Your mind might serve up some interesting thoughts for you to ponder.

Originally published on Episcopal Café as part of Episcopal Journal, Saturday, November 12, 2022.

Microwaves and Crock Pots

 

Every year I am obligated to attend an 18-hour training to retain my accreditation and act as a mentor in the Education for Ministry (EfM) program. I look forward to it every year. I finished the seminar and was excited to go back to my online group and try to motivate them as I was inspired by my training group.

This year, our trainer presented a story about a man named James. He was a very kind man, always doing the best he could to help others and doing it joyfully. I can't remember the whole story, but evidently, James was asked how he could be so good and kind when people sometimes mistreated him or were ungrateful for his help. He responded, "We may live in a microwave time, but we have a crockpot God." I admit I've been thinking about that since I heard it.

It's no secret that we live a much faster-paced life than has ever been lived before. In just my lifetime, I've seen the rise of drive-thru restaurants, space travel made possible, more and faster automobiles (now including computers, which weren't around when I was a child either), cell phones, and the internet. I can now order whatever I fancy eating just by looking up a phone number on the computer and then dialing my cell phone. I can get a new book the day it is released simply by placing an order online and having Amazon deliver it to my electronic reader. I can participate in groups like EfM without having to drive to a church or hall at night, and I can wear my pajamas while I'm with my group via Zoom. I can have my doctor call a prescription to the pharmacy, who will deliver it to me within a couple of hours, and the pizza I crave comes even faster!

I admit I look back at how things were when I was a child, where I could read a book or play outside rather than watch TV or play video games. My best friend was our dog because there weren't any kids my age in my neighborhood. I don't remember having a library in our town until I was in my teens. Now I can look up just about anything anytime, day or night, without going anywhere other than my living room. All my neighbors knew me, and I couldn't have gotten in trouble if I  had wanted to. There were just too many kind eyes keeping an eye on me. Looking back, it was the kind of childhood I wish my son could have had.

Now, about the comment about the crockpot God, I admit, when I first read it, I read "crackpot." Even on the second reading, I was still trying to figure out what James was getting at. Then it hit me, James was talking about God not being in a constant hurry like we are. God sees time differently than we do, even though when creating the world, God set up the precursor of daylight savings time and 24-hour service.

Crockpots take ingredients like meat, potatoes, vegetables, water, broth, and seasonings, all put in and then covered. The magic starts when the pot is turned on, and for the next few hours, the ingredients release their flavors and mix to make an excellent stew or superb soup. The longer it cooks, the tenderer the meat will be and the more flavorful the combination. It even releases a delicious aroma that welcomes the family home from school, practice, or work.

God works that way, slowly and thoroughly. God could say a word or snap two fingers and change anything faster than an eye can blink, but God doesn't do that. We often pray, asking for something to happen quickly to heal someone or perhaps solve a problem right away. That's our microwave thinking. But God may set things in motion and let time and a little heat make the outcome whatever it is supposed to be. With a crockpot, it is good to stir it a few times during cooking. The same goes for that period between asking God for something and expecting results. Most of the time, God expects us to add a pinch more salt or another ingredient that doesn't need to be cooked as long. We have hands so that we can lend them where and when required.

I've learned from James's statement that perhaps I need to slow down a bit, open up a little, be more helpful and cheerful, and be more in line with God's thinking and, perhaps, cooking. I can't race through life, ignoring people who need my attention or help. I need to slow down, look around more, and be more deliberate in my living. I need to use the crockpot more and the microwave less. And the big thing is to remember that just because I put something in God's hands doesn't mean I keep my hands totally out of it from then on. I need to stir the crockpot now and then and learn to help others with deliberation and cheerfulness. I need to work in partnership with God – preferably with the speed and thoroughness of God, in God's time, not mine.

Originally published on Episcopal Café as part of Episcopal Journal, Saturday, November  5, 2022.

The Refrigerator and Denali

 

What a drag! I needed to move my kitchen fridge to retrieve something that had fallen behind it. It was a bit of a struggle to pull it out far enough to grab the thing I wanted to recover, but I also saw some things I’d missed but hadn’t realized were back there. I had to pull the fridge out a bit further to get them with my grabber tool. That accomplished, it was time to put the refrigerator back in place, but it turned stubborn. No matter what I did, it wouldn’t move more than a third of the way back in. It was like trying to move Denali. Tired and achy, I sat down and started to work on the problem in words.

There’s a famous and popular saying from Scripture, “Faith can move mountains.”  I thought of that as I had been pushing and trying to put the fridge back in place. I’ve heard it a lot before. Regardless of the situation, that phrase will undoubtedly come up. Somebody will almost always use that phrase, which is usually a comfort. Still, I sometimes wonder how it is received by non-Christians, or those who have had a traumatic loss or an unanswered prayer.

The phrase is a metaphor for part of Matthew 17:20(b): “For truly I tell you, if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move; and nothing will be impossible for you.”  It would be simple to dismiss the verse as patently impossible. Suppose I laid a mustard seed (which isn’t really big, but bigger than some seeds I have in my pantry) at the base of a mountain and walked a few feet away. In that case, I probably couldn’t find it unless I walked back to where I thought I had put it and then searched the area to recover it. If I tossed it over my shoulder and then went to find it, I might never lay eyes on it again. Plant the seed in the ground, and it will grow into a goodly-sized bush. Practice faith, and, like the seed, it will grow. How much? It depends on the effort put into it. Jesus didn’t have gyms and fitness equipment to use as a comparison, but I’m sure he would metaphorize it as “The more work you do with it, the bigger and stronger it will get.”

Suppose I ask someone how much time they put into daily prayer and faith development. In that case, I could (a) be laughed at, (b) be asked if I were some kind of religious kook; or (c) be walked away from very quickly. Maybe one person in fifteen might be willing to engage in conversation on the subject of faith. Probably ten of those would want to control the conversation, telling me about their faith and how it is the “true faith” or “the only way.”

Some denominations actively teach direct approaches with perfect strangers. I feel most homeowners or apartment dwellers have received such strangers at their front doors, offering to give us the “Word of God” and the steps to salvation. I found most of mine came on Saturday mornings when I was trying to clean the house after a week of work. Frankly, I felt it was an intrusion and got a “No Solicitors” sign for my front door. It didn’t always work, but I suppose it’s all part of the freedom of religion thing.

I will admit to having a faith that is by no means mountain-moving size. I have had a lot of prayers that have not been granted, but then s I realize that sometimes what I asked for was perhaps not what I should have requested. I showed my faith by asking, but that was because I trusted God would give it due consideration and then say “yea” or “nay” depending on things about which I knew nothing.

I’ve prayed for friends and family with cancer and other debilitating diseases and asked for healing, comfort, and strength for them and their families. I do not believe that it is always God’s will when something terrible happens. I’ve put a lot of requests in God’s hands, including people I love, and sometimes they regain their health, but sometimes they die despite my prayers. I don’t think it was because my faith wasn’t as strong as it should have been. There’s still another old saying, “Stuff Happens.” It’s not that God doesn’t care about me, my prayers, or those I’m praying for. I think it is that there are mountains not meant to be conquered or moved.

After reflecting on my original problem, I paused and returned to my initial challenge. It wasn’t any lighter, but somehow it was more willing to move inches at a time. It still wasn’t a straight shot, but it finally went back into place. I hadn’t even resorted to asking St. Jude for help. I just put it in God’s hands, did what I could, sat down and thought, went back, and practiced confidence. I had faith, maybe only the size of a sesame seed (smaller than a mustard one), but the task was accomplished.

Thank you, God!

Originally published on Episcopal Café as part of Episcopal Journal, Saturday,  October 29, 2022.

Finishing

 

There is something freeing and exhilarating about finishing a project I've been working on for anywhere from a week to years. Writing term papers and essays in college didn't give me much of a buzz because I often couldn't choose my content or even my topic. Since then, I've been more free to write what I wanted.

I remember my most significant project was ghostwriting a book for an elderly lady who was crippled and blind. Her memory was phenomenal, and she knew exactly what she wanted to say, who said it, and where and when it took place. The problem was that she usually couldn't tell whether her mini recorder was off or on, so there would frequently be blanks in her dictations that we'd have to go over. That book took nearly five years, but the minute I handed her the finished, bound copy of her story, it was like watching a little girl get a pony for her birthday. She kicked her feet and laughed so hard, with tears running out of her eyes. I still get a bit teary when I think about that. It was worth all the time and bumpy spots we'd been through.

The latest project was helping a friend prepare a training manual for an organization she belongs to. It did help me improve my typing speed and accuracy, as well as proofing skills with the aid of one of the software programs made expressly for that purpose. I also learned a lot about that organization that I hadn't known. Who knows? Maybe because of this exercise, I may end up joining it.

Of course, there's the pleasure of finishing an essay, knitting a shawl, or cooking something new and having it turn out delicious. Each represents a completion, something to look back on, and always learning something new, even if it is something I have done before.

I remember being a teenager like so many of my peers, feeling like I knew it all, even when someone showed me my mistakes. Thank God I have grown up a lot since then, and I'm not nearly as smart as I used to think I was. I've gained wisdom over the years and learned from many of my mistakes, but there is always more to learn, and that's probably the best part of growing old.

When Jesus was a little boy, his mother had to teach him many things. Most children eventually begin walking after many bumps and falls. Still, they learn the idea of walking from parents who hold their hands to keep them from falling. Parents teach their kids to eat using utensils, not just their hands. Reading to them teaches children the joy of reading for themselves and learning religious texts and practices as well as fairy tales, animal stories, and other kinds of literature. Maybe Mary and Joseph didn't have "Goodnight, Little Star" or "Harry Potter" to read to Jesus at bedtime. Still, there were always stories to be told about how things came to be, traditions, and things like Psalms and prayers. They were probably every bit as proud of their son's accomplishments as any of us are of our own achievements and those of our kids.

Mary probably wasn't proud as she saw her son hanging on a cross like a common criminal. Her love for him didn't change, but she had to think of what the neighbors would say back home. Would her sons, even those who followed Jesus, take pity on her and keep her safe and secure? It was a finish to a life she might not have understood entirely or wanted for her son, but he was still that little boy she had birthed, cuddled, fed, taught, and loved.

For Jesus, we are told his life would end in a particular place and way. He gave clues about meeting his end,  but did he realize everything he would have to endure before the end came? For him, there wouldn't be any exhilaration or pride at finishing his mission on earth. He came to earth and did what he was supposed to, and his reward was death on a cross.

Of course, we know Jesus recognized that his death would be short-lived (if you'll pardon the pun) and that his final reward would be a reunion with God in heaven. His last miracle would convince millions of people that he was the Savior and that they could put their faith and trust in him and his messages. They are still celebrating that event two millennia later. Now that is what I would call a genuinely fantastic finish to a lifetime project.

Originally published on Episcopal Café as part of Episcopal Journal, Saturday, October 22, 2022.

False Advertising

 

There it is again. I'm reading my newsreader, and there's a picture of a very fluffy, cute small dog gazing at the sky. What's wrong with it? It's above a story about relieving your cat's anxiety. Now some dogs and cats get along famously, but somehow this picture looks like false advertising.

Again, there's a picture of the Princess of Wales in one of her gorgeous outfits. It's lovely, but the story is about Prince Harry or Princess Anne. Honestly, if I wanted to read the whole story to find out what or who it is about, I'd be glad to do that. Usually, though, I use pictures to catch my interest. I am disgusted when I feel I've been misled by articles that show a picture of something that offers to tell all about that picture. Fifty-seven images and blurbs later, the picture they initially showed has never been repeated or even referred to.

There's nothing new about false advertising – or at least misleading advertising, and it's been going on for ages. How many restaurants claim to be the best at something like fried chicken, steak, or even milkshakes? Are they honestly the best? It seems one would have to walk in and try whatever it is. Then, make the rounds of all the other restaurants offering similar fare and trying their victuals. At that point, a judgment could be rendered that, yes, restaurant #1 did indeed have the best whatever, or that it was simply hopeful (if not not-quite-honest) in its advertising.

I wonder about churches and their advertising. Some of them have cute or funny little sayings on their letter board outside the church extolling something about God or Jesus or even about what it is they preach. I certainly would question a statement such as "If Jesus walked the earth today, here's where he would worship!" I wonder, what about churches that profess to welcome everybody? Are they honest, or would the welcome last until someone was asked to do something they were reluctant to take on or didn't feel called to do?

One church I went to proclaimed that they welcomed everybody. When an openly gay couple came to worship, they were made part of the altar party within a month. Many thought this was a great idea, but others experienced some discomfort. It wasn't that gay men were serving at the altar; they were promoted so quickly as if it were an advertising stunt to prove how "welcoming" that church was. They were very nice, friendly men, but the congregation wanted to get to know them better before taking communion from them. It was too much of a rush, it seemed. Many other couples or singles had attended for months or longer without being asked to read or serve the cup.

Maybe I'm just being too judgmental, but I think churches have to operate at a high level of transparency regarding how they present themselves. It is one thing to put a slogan on the letter board outside the church door, but it's what's inside that counts, as well as what those attending that church show the world when they come out the door. Do they immediately form little groups of people who know each other well but ignore others standing alone or with perhaps a spouse or single friend? Do the greeters acknowledge newcomers and then offer them an opportunity to serve on a committee or a ministry before the newcomers have even had a chance to see if this church feels right to them, liturgy and worship-wise?

Jesus preached to and taught many people throughout his life and ministry. People heard about him through word-of-mouth from neighbors or others who had heard him or at least of him. They came to listen to him for themselves and make their own decisions about his message and meaning. There probably weren't greeters at the entrance, offering name tags, possible ministry interests, or invitations to stay for coffee hour. Jesus offered a simple but understandable message and didn't sugar-coat it or offer something for nothing. His was a stern message, but one true to Torah's teachings and prophets' words. He lived simply, demonstrating how God wanted the people to live. Not everybody accepted that, but many did.

The media probably will never match pictures and content accurately more than half the time. Still, as Christians, we must make sure we do much better at demonstrating just what Jesus taught us. We are Jesus's media team so let's make sure the message we speak matches the one we want people to see and respond to.

Originally published on Episcopal Café as part of Episcopal Journal, Saturday, October 15, 2022.

Einstein and Mental Health Day

Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.  – Albert Einstein

 

Albert Einstein was a genius. He was a German mathematician and physicist, most noted for his famous equation, E=mc². Most of us know what the letters in the equation stand for. Yet I have a feeling that I'm not alone in being challenged when asked to explain precisely what those letters actually mean, much less how to use them. How many people know that Einstein studied how materials draw moisture upward despite gravity pulling it downward? We thank Scott Paper Co. for making paper towels, but the idea came from Einstein's study. He came up with the idea of the refrigerator now, but one that kept things cold in a more eco-friendly way than the freon that our air conditioners and refrigerators use. His theories and studies have made things like lasers, superconductors (with Satyenda Bose), solar panels, DVDs, and more possible.

There are things we don't often consider when we think of Einstein. He was born to a Jewish family in Germany. At school, he was not a star student, although he learned to play the violin and fell in love with the music of Mozart. By 15, he had taught himself differential and integral calculus and had begun formulating his own theories for study. By 1933, he came to the US to escape rising antisemitism and became a professor of physics at Princeton. That antisemitism made him identify more closely with Judaism, and his first visit to the US was a fundraising journey to support Zionism. When asked about his belief in God, he once responded, "We see the universe marvelously arranged and obeying certain laws but only dimly understand these laws." He understood that God had set forth those laws that are seen in order and nature.

There have been speculations that Einstein had any or all of a few psychological or neurological disorders such as Aspberger syndrome or Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. It's practically impossible to officially diagnose him as he lived before these subjects were studied and understood, even to the point where we are with them today. Still, it is easy to look at various times and activities in his life and wonder if perhaps these diagnoses might not be correct. Whether or not stories of those possibilities are accurate, we still have his valuable and incredible contributions to our world. In short, we can't judge a fish by its inability to climb a tree.

Every year, on October 10th, we celebrate World Mental Health Day, noted for its emphasis on recognizing mental health as a worldwide issue that needs attention. Mental health is often an invisible disability and is often mistaken for laziness, being "crazy," or a "lunatic." Often those in mental health crises might appear perfectly normal on the outside while internally, their world is spinning out of control. They feel powerless to experience security and be in charge of their lives. For years, soldiers returning from combat have been expected to return home and resume the life they left behind. However, the veterans find they cannot meet those expectations, given what they have experienced, and continue to view them via flashbacks. Anyone seeing or experiencing a traumatic event may find they cannot move past that event and, subsequently, are stuck in an uncomfortable, if not untenable, place.

Many homeless are mentally ill, yet so are many people living in comfortable houses, surrounded by comfort and plenty. They suffer from mental illnesses caused by heredity, injury, or even experiences like being severely bullied or subjected to psychological or physical abuse. Still stigmatized in many areas of life, work, and even religion, mental illness is blamed on the devil, demons, or even personal choice. Some believe that exorcism is the answer when modern chemistry can often help make life more like normal. Would God have given us brains if we weren't supposed to use them to help our fellow human beings? Doesn't that include kindness and understanding, not to mention help, for our mentally ill neighbors?

Jesus helped people suspected of possession or who had traumatic events. He didn't turn them down; they were his neighbors and the children he had been sent here to help. Look at the Gerasene demoniac, a man condemned to exile, imprisonment, and isolation because of his fits and bizarre behavior. Jesus stopped at the very place where the demoniac was and healed him (although a herd of pigs wasn't so lucky). It should be a lesson to all of us that we, as Jesus' followers, must not isolate the mentally ill but try to help them.

So, this coming Monday, add the mentally ill of the world to your prayers. Contribute to mental health organizations and causes, and perhaps volunteer to help through food banks and soup kitchens. The world needs all of us – and Jesus expects us to love our neighbors, including those who bear the mentally ill label. After all, some of our greatest inventions, theories, stories, poems, musical performances, and insights come from those otherwise stigmatized. Jesus taught it, and God expects it.

Originally published on Episcopal Café as part of Episcopal Journal, Saturday, Oct. 6, 2022.

Rainstorms

 

Every storm runs out of rain.  – Maya Angelou

It’s hurricane season, and with it comes the usual wind, rain, storm surge, and flooding. Where a few weeks ago the temperatures felt like an audition for moving hell to the earth’s surface, now there is water everywhere, without a drop to drink – unless it is boiled. There is a problem there too. Winds frequently knock out power for stoves, air conditioners, and water pumps. The issue of drought becomes a problem of too much contaminated water. What’s that old saying? It never rains, but it pours? Tell that to the people of Pakistan, India, and other countries worldwide where water is needed, but not in the quantities it is receiving. Even some folks in our own country are feeling the punch.

This is Noah-type weather, producing the rain God sent to clean up the earth and the people who created the mess. That was how the people of the time saw it. They laughed at Noah for building this massive ship in his backyard, especially in a climate where rain wasn’t all that common. Then the rain started and continued for 40 days and nights. What a mess!

I lived in the Philippines during several typhoons, one of whom came from the south of our area to the north, stopped, turned around, came back through, then stopped and turned around again. It finally continued north and out to sea. It was monsoon season to boot, so all in all, we had 40 days of rain. We didn’t need an ark, but we had to have supplies flown in to replenish our small commissary. Most of the roads going anywhere and the bridges crossing over the rivers and creeks were washed out. I met a lady here in Phoenix whose son was a Navy pilot who lost his plane in the South China Sea during that typhoon. He was lucky to survive.

Humongous rain storms (and hurricanes) happen, often in unexpected and unprepared places. Places like the far east have massive floods nearly every monsoon season. In contrast, we here in the US have a few hurricanes a year, most of them dangerous and causing danger and damage, but not all of them tearing whole towns apart and damaging cities as well. The damage inconveniences us, but sooner rather than later, we (and our insurance carriers) recover. It is something like Maya Angelou said, “Every storm runs out of rain.”

Life is like that. There are times when it seems that nothing goes right. We feel like we’re drowning in flood waters, hanging on to a board that used to be part of our house. Last week was like that for me. One rotten thing was that a member of our Education for Ministry (EfM) group came into class to tell us the bad news that his wife was dying of cancer. It was heart-wrenching, and even though expected, it was very tragic and sad for all of us. She died that night, and our prayers continue for him and his family. The second rotten thing was one of my boys (my cats) losing an eye to globular rupture, requiring emergency surgery (and a huge bill). The third was discovering a few medical things that have surfaced on my chart. I could manage each one if it occurred alone. It all felt like defensive players all piling up on an offensive player trying to cross the one-yard line to score a goal in football. I did a lot of praying last week, but that’s when prayer seems most needed – and done.

This week seems like the rain is slowing, if not stopping. Sooner or later, all rainstorms move away or run out of water to send downward. The same goes for personal disasters and the like. As long as I remember to pray for strength and courage, I usually come out a little stronger and a little wiser from having gone through the experiences. That doesn’t mean I won’t have something else happen tomorrow, but for now, I can breathe a bit easier. The cat is recovering nicely. My EfM friend seems to be coping and knows we are all there for him in thoughts, prayers, and, if necessary, in person. There’s nothing much I can do about the medical stuff for a little while, so I’ve been asking God to help me get through it.

I’m looking for the rainbow at the end of the storm. There almost always is one somewhere. There was a double one over Winsor Castle when the Queen died, so I’m taking that as a sign she arrived in Heaven and was reunited with her beloved husband and family. I don’t want to live to be 96, but I’d like to have a rainbow show up when I finally go.

I’ve learned from Maya’s quote to always keep an umbrella in the car, just in case.

Originally published on Episcopal Café as part of Episcopal Journal, Saturday, Oct. 1, 2022.

Learning from Funerals

There are a lot of benefits to growing up in a family with few young children and a lot of much older relatives. I learned about making butter from the milk from the cow in the backyard of one aunt and uncle's house. Unlike Mama's electric one at home, I had sewn simple things on my aunt's treadle sewing machine. I did better with the treadle; I could go slower and keep my line of stitches straighter. I would run around under the pecan tree as Daddy and my brother threw a baseball through the branches to knock down the nuts. It was my job to pick them up. Most of the relatives had huge yards with plenty of room to run around, and one uncle had a nice rocking chair next to the oil stove where he would rock a little girl to sleep with a story.

Some might not call it a benefit, but another thing I learned was about death and funerals. Having a lot of much older relatives meant that at least once or twice a year, we would have a death in the family somewhere and a funeral to attend. It was the closest thing to a family reunion that our family ever had. I was usually the youngest person there, although older cousins came with their families. I didn't think much about death; it was more a party with many people I often saw and some very rarely in one place.

I knew what death was; I was taught that when someone died, they went to Heaven, where we would see them one day when our own turn to die came. Those big shiny boxes at the funeral had the body of someone I knew, liked, or loved. Sometimes that box would be open, revealing someone that looked vaguely familiar but not like the person I knew. I wanted them to look more natural, less like wax figures with makeup, Sunday dresses, or suits I'd never seen them wear.

I sometimes wonder why parents don't take their children to funerals. I know the prevailing thing is that "Oh, they're too young to be exposed to something like that," but are we really protecting them from something unpleasant or from a reality that they need to know about first-hand, not just from what they see on television, movies, comic books, or video games. Granted, death can be traumatic, and children do witness traumatic deaths up close and personally. It can scar a child for life and is far different than seeing an elderly relative laid out neatly.

 

Children are exposed to death and violence every day indirectly. Every time a favorite cartoon character is squashed, shot, falls over a cliff, or has a car accident, it seems like death. Still, the character usually pops up a few seconds later. What appeared to be dead really wasn't. Children and teens playing video games can "kill" other characters or be killed themselves. Yet both can usually be revived by restarting the episode or using a particular spell. On television programs, they see characters killed in any number of ways. Then, one day, the actor will show up again as someone else somewhere else, thus making the point that death on one show does not mean the person they see being shot or some other lethal action is really dead. It's so common that most kids don't see it as real. They can stage the same imaginary scenario with a real gun, shoot someone, the someone will get up, and both will laugh hysterically. But what happens when the gunshot is fatal? 

 

Watching the Queen's funeral this week, I saw Prince George and Princess Charlotte. I remember being their age when I went to the many funerals that come from having elder relatives. Many said that the young royals were too young to be at such an event, but I have to disagree. They had as much right to say goodbye to their beloved grannie as any adult in attendance. They heard the words of the scriptures offering hope and comfort, some of the hymns they undoubtedly heard in church on Sundays, and the presence of nurturing and loving family members around them. They heard people talking about their grannie using words they knew and had witnessed during her time with them. They also gained memories of her and what made her so very special. They will take those things with them as they grow and have their own families. They also learned that death was not forever. Undoubtedly, there will be reunion in Heaven. 

 

That is my belief and my hope. It's what I learned from attending lots of funerals when I was much younger. Without that belief and hope, fostered by loving and supportive people surrounding me in confusing times, I might not have acquired that perspective. Still, it's what comforts me with every passing. The thoughts of seeing my loved ones again keep me going. Thanks to those who taught me that death is nothing to be feared; it's part of my faith. I believe God is loving and protective and that Jesus's words about many mansions are to be believed.

Originally published on Episcopal Café as part of Episcopal Journal, Saturday, Sept. 24, 2022.

Being Humble

 

Sundays at our house when I was a child were always high points of the week. Like most Southern Baptists who attended our church, the whole family would attend (unless something pressing occurred – like having to go to their in-laws instead). Mama would have cooked a ham or fried some chicken, and we’d have all the appropriate side dishes. We’d use the “good” china and silverware, and the white linen tablecloth would be crisp and spotless. If the bachelor preacher had no other invitation, he would join us for dinner. He lived in our garage apartment and had his knees under our table so often he was like a family member. Occasionally, we’d invite someone or a couple from church, whether we knew them or not. That was southern hospitality, as we saw it.

Everybody had a place at the table; Daddy sat at one end, Mama at the other. My place was next to Mama so she could keep me on the straight and narrow. The preacher sat next to Daddy, and relatives and friends filled in the rest of the seating. We didn’t have a grand dining room or a large table, but there was always room for another place. 

Jesus was like our preacher. He’d been invited to dinner at the home of a leader of the Pharisees after Sabbath service at the synagogue. Seating at dinner had a very particular order. Those of higher status or whom the host wanted to talk to during dinner were at the top end of the table. The lower end was for those not in favor or who were of lower status. To take a place to which one wasn’t meant to have was a shameful act and one which fellow diners would notice. It was better to wait and be shown to a seat, whether at the top of the table, the middle, or the bottom, was far better and showed better manners. 

The point of the parable was, however, a lesson on humility. We could probably deliver a sermon on assuming positions to which others were not entitled every time someone breaks into the checkout line at the grocery store, cuts someone else off in traffic, or presumes to speak for others without in fact representing them with their consent. Maybe such sermons are needed, but unless it consumes 140 characters or less, they may be ignored, especially by those who most need to hear them. 

Look for other humble people in the Bible. It’s full of them. Perhaps that’s why Jesus used them so often as illustrations in his parables and stories. Which stories can you remember offhand? The woman with the two coppers to give to the synagogue? The woman with the hemorrhage? The blind, lame, leprous, and mentally ill who asked for help without real hope that Jesus would be more merciful to them than other people had been? The children who Jesus invited to come to him instead of being shooed away as nuisances? The early Christians who practiced the servant ministries that cared for the less fortunate? There are many more.

This week what would happen if we didn’t honk at the person who cut us off in traffic? What would it be like to give up a place in line to someone who might really need it? What if we gave a cup of hot coffee to a person begging on the street corner? Could we give up a seat on the bus, train, or subway to an elder, or give a ride to a person who needs to get to the doctor or the store? There are so many ways of being humble and helpful, making it another step on the road to creating God’s kingdom on earth. 

Let’s try a few. 

God bless. 

Farewell to a Role Model

 

I've been working on a project for a friend, typing umpteen pages of a training program for an organization she belongs to. It's interesting for the most part, although a few things make me itch. Still, I can change a few things, so I guess that's like the calamine lotion on the itch.

I was typing "In Flanders Field," a poem written after WWI commemorating a significant battle in which over a million soldiers went missing, were injured, or died. Scarlet poppy seeds pushed through the earth that had been disturbed by the combat, and the red flowers came to symbolize the blood of those who struggled there. I had just started typing the poem's first few lines when my best friend texted me that the Queen had died at Balmoral, Scotland. I had seen a news clip of her greeting the new Prime Minister, the 15^th one the Queen had greeted throughout her 70-year-reign. She looked so frail, yet her face beamed as she greeted the new PM, just as she had on so many occasions throughout her life.

This morning, the news said that she had been encouraged to rest and was under a doctor's supervision, but who expected her death to come so quickly? My feeling when I heard that news was similar to the first thought I had every morning for years as my husband aged and grew frailer. "Is today the day?" Today was one of those "It is today" days.

One thing I have enjoyed watching over the years was the Queen during various church services– commemorations, funerals, thanksgivings, and Sunday services. She took her faith seriously. While she read from the bulletins for the service, I have no doubt when it came to the prayers, she knew them from memory and by heart. She paid attention to endless sermons, and I'm sure she considered them later in the day when Sunday lunch was over. Did she always like the music the choir and organ provided, plus hymns and anthems sung by the congregation? Who knows? She was very good at keeping a straight face that didn't disclose her feelings about it. Still, she sang the hymns, probably not needing the lyrics printed in front of her.

She was never shy about mentioning her faith, especially during the holidays and at times when something spiritually uplifting needed to be said. As Defender of the Faith and Head of the Church of England, she made sure her people saw her attending church regularly. But more than just talking about her faith, she lived it. She praised those who did good deeds for others, recognizing their efforts while humbly keeping her own private. She undoubtedly trusted God to guide and help her, probably never more than at the death of her beloved husband of 73 years.

I think Jesus taught her how important it was to love people, even those who hurt her or her people. Yes, rules were rules, and sometimes she had to be what seemed to be harsh, but she didn't do it capriciously. I remember seeing her face in newsreels when she visited the site of the Welsh slag-pile disaster that killed 144 people, most of them children. She hadn't wanted to go, but ultimately she did. I imagine it must have been hard for her to contemplate those deaths, perhaps thinking of how she would feel had one or more of her own been in a similar situation.

I've also seen reels of her enjoying visiting people around the world, watching their singing and dancing, seeing their world, and learning things that might be important years from the date of those visits. She delighted in dancing herself, such as at the Ghillies' Ball in Scotland.

I think Jesus also taught the Queen what it meant to be human. It is often difficult to keep a straight face when something happens, whether it is humorous, tragic, or incomprehensible. Still, Jesus continued on with his work, regardless of circumstance, and so did she. I think she understood duty in the same way Jesus did. God had sent Jesus with a mission. Elizabeth had been consecrated to a job that had come through her father, himself consecrated to the same position. Elizabeth said in a message after the 9/11 attacks, "Grief is the price we pay for love." Jesus knew the same thing, just 2000 or so years earlier.

I will miss her, but seeing her frailty just a few days ago, I am glad for her peaceful death. It feels a bit like losing a mother again. Still, there are many years of memories that pictures, books, and newsreels will continue to bring up, and I'm glad of that.

I hope God met her at the gates personally. As humble as she was in most cases, I can imagine her face at seeing God waiting to welcome her to her new mansion. Philip probably had the barbecue going as well.

May Elizabeth and Philip both now rest in peace and rise in glory together. They've left a big void here on earth.

Originally published on Episcopal Café as part of Episcopal Journal, Saturday, Sept. 10, 2022.