A SIX-YEAR-OLD SEVENTY-YEAR-OLD

It is often said that as people grow older and their memories fade and they spend more time talking about and remembering the past that they are entering their second childhood. Perhaps the real truth is that it is better to remember a sanitized version of the past where the “good old days” were really good because the bad has been forgotten than it is to think that the rest of one’s life may be filled with severe limitations on one’s ability to do much of anything except exist.

And yet there is much to be said about a second childhood. When I reflect on my own life, something that I do not do often enough, I do wish there was more of the six-year-old in this seventy-year-old body and mind. No, I do not want to go back to those days nor do I want to have the body of someone much younger, say a twenty-year-old. I am as old as I am because I have been blessed with good health. And I am thankful, especially when I see some of my contemporaries needing bottles of pills to stay active and alive and whose bodily aches and pains prevent them from doing much of anything.

That being said, it is so easy as we grow older to take life for granted. One day follows the next and not much changes. We have seen and experienced so much that we tend to take most things in life for granted, both the good and the bad. “There is nothing new under the sun” seems to be our mantra and we’re sticking with it. Nothing seems to shock or surprise us anymore. And the older we get, shock and surprise becomes less and less.

That is why, the older we get, the more we need to be childlike. For me it not only would be good but it would also be wonderful to be a six-year-old seventy-year-old. Imagine what it would be like to be excited once again by all the simple things in life that one was experiencing for the first time: a rainbow, a birthday present, a drive to get an ice cream cone, winning a game of cards – all those things we take for granted and find so routine as we grow older.

None of this is to say that the life of us elders is dull and boring even if there are limitations on how much of this life we can enjoy because we are not six years old. It is to say that, no matter what our age, we need not lose that joy of life that six-year-olds see as what life is supposed to be all about anyway. Yes, they will be disabused of all of this as they grow older and take on more responsibilities and as their bodies and minds age and betray them.

So what? So what is wrong in finding the little pleasures in life and making them out to be more than they really are?  What is wrong with waking up every day looking for the small surprises that will come our way, the little joys, the life-giving and not life-sapping events that make us look ahead to tomorrow for the next bit of wonder and awe, wonder and awe that have become routine but which should not?

There is that inner child in each and every one of us. Perhaps that is why Jesus routinely, I think, sat down and made his disciples sit down with little children. He reminded them and reminds us that we can learn much from children and from the child inside us.

CELEBRATING 25 YEARS

Anniversaries can be joyous occasions for celebration, especially the big ones: 25, 50, 75, 100 or more. Any anniversary over 100 is probably an occasion for celebrating in grand style every year rather than on the ones we tend to note every quarter of a century. Celebrating the first twenty-five years of ministry for a church should be, at least in these days and maybe forever, a real cause for celebration.

Why? The majority of new congregations don’t make it to twenty-five years. The reasons for that are as numerous as the reasons why each was begun in the first place. Many new parishes were begun, sadly, because of internal disputes among the congregants: since we can’t have it our way, we will start our own church. They did but most did not survive because the conception was begun on a sour note not on a happy and joyous one.

 

That was not the case for us. The truth is that no one, even the powers to be in the Diocese, gave St. Brendan’s much of a chance to succeed. They were so doubtful that they allowed another Episcopal church to be started not three miles away. And what a start it had! It grew to be advertised as “one of the fastest growing Episcopal churches in the country.” Not too long after that, they took their church and went independent. So much for “fastest growing Episcopal church”!

St. Brendan’s, on the other hand, was given little chance to succeed? Why? Because the founders were radicals, radical women! The wise men of the Diocese believed it was politically correct even back then to at least humor these women, allow Christ Church to financially sponsor them (no Diocesan monies need be expended) and let them fail on their own. Guess who is celebrating 25 years of ministry in The Episcopal Church in the Diocese of Pittsburgh in spite of all the drama and turmoil in this Diocese?

Guess who is pointed out as an example of a growing church where stagnation and even decline in church membership and attendance is rampant in every denomination in every part of the country? No, we are not where we would like to be as a parish. We have to grow more simply because there is so much more ministry that needs to be done and so many people who need to be ministered to, served by us.

We know that. We know the obstacles that are before us. We know that it will not be easy and will demand sacrifice and commitment. But that is what brought us to today when we celebrate and give thanks to God for twenty-five years of ministry in this part of God’s Kingdom on earth. We know that growth means change and change is always difficult, but grow and change we must and we will.

But for today, for this time in the life of St. Brendan’s, this is now the time to pause and remember, to give thanks and celebrate. As we move into the next twenty-five years, we need to remember the dedication and determination, the sacrifice and the sense of calling that our founders had, some still with us, thank God, that brought us to this reason to pause to give thanks and celebrate the past and to look forward to the days to come. The celebration of fifty years of ministry will be here before we know it!

HOLDING OUT THE OLIVE BRANCH

(An upfront disclaimer: I am a very proud grandfather. Nevertheless:) a few weeks ago Arlena and I traveled to Elkins, WV, to help celebrate granddaughter Kayleigh’s ninth birthday. As we did last year, we held her party in one of the local parks underneath a picnic shelter. There was pizza to eat and cake to share and games to play, even a piñata to break loaded with candy. The kids and grandparents had a great time.

As the children were arriving for the party, Jessica, our daughter and Kayleigh’s Mom, was talking to us and pointed out a young girl who was walking to the shelter. “See that girl over there?” she asked. “For the past few weeks she has been bullying Kayleigh at school and been very mean to her. When I asked Kayleigh whom she wanted to come to her party, she said she wanted to invite this girl. When I asked her why, she said, “Because I want to hold out an olive branch to her.” As a proud grandfather, I could not have been prouder.

Jessica said that the two have been getting along well since the invitation. That is good and I hope the friendship lasts. If it is up to Kayleigh, I know it will. But, of course, friendship is not just one-sided. Only time will tell if Kayleigh’s olive branch is held onto by the other girl and they remain friends.

For me personally, this is not just a nice story and a fond remembrance that I will always treasure about my granddaughter. There is also a lesson in it for me. I have to wonder, were I in Kayleigh’s place, would I have invited someone who had been bullying me? Would I have held out an olive branch to make peace when I was not the one who was breaking the peace in the first place?

I know I should, but would I? It’s the Christian, loving thing to do; but would I be that Christian, that loving? I wonder. I would like to believe that Kayleigh’s response to someone else’s hurtful behavior would be my response. I would hope that I would be so kind. But I am not so certain that I would. As kind and as loving as I think I am (and that is for others to decide whether this is true or not), I am not sure I could forgive someone who is hurting me without that person asking for forgiveness, which is what holding out an olive branch implies.

As Christians we are to seek peace, work for reconciliation, be forgivers. Sometimes, as Kayleigh’s actions remind, we have to take the first steps even if the other person is still hell bent on continuing the hurt. Sometimes, if and when we do, we may be rebuffed and the hurt made even more painful. We never know and we will never know if we do not extend that olive branch.

That is never easy to do. I am sure that it was not easy for Kayleigh to approach her classmate and invite her to the party because she did not know ahead of time what the other girl’s response would be. But Kayleigh not only wanted the bullying to cease, she also wanted to be friends. And she knew that neither would happen unless and until she took the first step. She did and I am so very proud of her – and humbled as well.

TALENT

Martin Ritt was one of the great, but also according to many critics unsung, movie directors of all time. Ritt knew talent when he saw it and he knew how to use that talent to make great movies. He worked with stars like Laurence Harvey, Paul Newman, Claire Bloom, Edward G. Robinson. He won acclaim for movies like The Great White Hope (earning Oscar nominations for James Earl Jones and Jane Alexander), Sounder, and Norma Rae (Oscar for Sally Field as Best Actress).

Ritt knew talent. What perhaps set him apart was his view of talent. He once observed, “I don’t have a lot of respect for talent. Talent is genetic. It’s what you do with it that counts.” And isn’t that the truth? Talent is indeed genetic. Every one of us who has ever dreamed of doing something we cannot understands that truth. We desire what we do not have but wish we did.

As is well-known by now, my greatest desire as a youngster was to play first base for the Pittsburgh Pirates. As is also known, I got cut from my Little League team because I was that bad. I had no talent to play baseball. In my head I was certain that I was good.   I also believed that if I just worked hard enough, practiced long enough, had that great desire to succeed, my dreams would come true. My Little League manager and subsequent failures in playing baseball taught me, begrudgingly, the truth.

Of course, some of my pals growing up were very talented baseball players and I envied them. None of them ever made it to the Major Leagues or even the Minors. But they did use their abilities, their talents, to take them as far as they could go playing baseball and then they moved on in life. Some of them, I suspect, like me, thought they had more talent than they did and, like me, had to learn the hard way: they got cut from the team.

We all have our special talents. They are genetic. They are God-given. It is useless to ask why we have the talents we do. We simply have them from birth through our genes. It is also useless to ask why we don’t have the talents we wish we had but simply do not. That is also the result of our genes and thus beyond our control. What is important and what, in the final analysis is the only thing that really matters, as Ritt observed, is what we do with those talents.

We know that, of course. We know people who don’t fulfill their potential, who don’t use their talents to the best of their abilities. Some of those people are you and I. As talented and gifted as we are, we still know that any talent has to be fostered. The greatest ball players, actors, teachers – you name it – became great not because they were the most talented but because they used whatever talents they had to the very best of their abilities.

Again, the talents that we have, each one of us, are indeed genetic but, most importantly for us as Christians, God-given. While we may wonder why we have the gifts we do and wonder why we don’t have the gifts we might like to have, in the end, what matters to God, what matters to others and what should matter to us as well, as Ritt has said, what really counts, is we do with  those talents and gifts.

VESSELS OF CLAY

Back in the dark Ages when I was in seminary (1957-1969: high school, college and theology), every day from 12:00 noon to12:15 there was a time set aside for what was called “Spiritual Reading”. If our Spiritual Director did not have a meditation for us to ponder before lunch, one of the students read from a spiritual book that was to give us some food for thought.

The only book I can remember anything about from all those years was one that was read when I was in high school. It was written by a priest, Leo Trese, and was called Vessels of Clay. The point of the book was that even though priests were, by their vocation, to be role models for the people they were called to serve and even though this was a tremendous responsibility, anyone aspiring to become a priest needed to be reminded that he (always and only he back then and still now in the RC Church) was still a very fallible and fragile person – a vessel of clay.

Over the years I have come to realize just how true that is. Clay vessels are easily cracked and even broken into pieces. They are not like bronze vases that can be slightly dinged and then re-polished or hammered back into their original shapes. They are not almost unbreakable and even everlasting like those made of metal. All earthen vessels, all vessels of clay must be handled with care and sometime even with kid gloves.

Trese was trying to remind his readers, and especially us young seminarians, that as great a vocation as everyone said we were called to fulfill in being a priest was, that was no guarantee that fulfilling it would be easy and that simply because we were priests we would be automatically holy people and inspiring leaders to the various flocks we were called to lead and serve.

Over the years I have learned from experience that it has not been easy and that I have not always, if ever, been that holy and inspiring person. Every one of us, every priest and every lay person, we are all, each and every one of us, a vessel of clay. The older we get, the more nicks and cracks. Some of us, perhaps many of us, have been broken and then pieced back together almost as good as new, but not quite.

The fact that I am just like everyone else has given me some consolation even as I recognize my many failures and shortcomings. It should give all of us consolation. No one of us is perfect. We are all fragile human beings. We have all made our share of mistakes and committed our fair share of sins, maybe even more than our fair share. But with the help of others, with our own self-will and determination and with the grace of God, we have been pieced back together.

Trese’s book has been a constant reminder over the years, if only in the back of my mind, that it does not take much for the vessel to be cracked and even broken into pieces if I am not careful. But that is true for all of us no matter who we are, what our vocation or how old or young. The truth is that “Handle with Care” should be stamped on all our foreheads and into all our brains.

MINISTRY

A while back during the announcement time one of our members, Ted Popovich, reported on traveling to Selma, Alabama, with a group of people who re-enacted part of the march led by Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. many years ago. Ted said something to the effect that while this march was led by other ministers and he was not a minister, he felt privileged to be able to take part.

In my off-the-cuff thanks to Ted for telling us about this adventure, I corrected him by telling him that he was indeed a minister in no less a way than those who had been officially ordained by their various denominations. Afterwards Ted thanked me for saying that even as he still felt humbled both by what I said and by his ability to take part in the march.

The truth is that we are all ministers, whether we are ordained or not. Ministry comes from our baptism and the promises made for us when we were baptized and which we renew at every baptism. And, yet, our ministry is even more fundamental. It arises from our basic humanness. Ministry, very simply, is the participation of we human beings in the work of God in this world – no more and no less.

What that means is that we, all of us both individually and collectively, are the vehicles of God in this world. We are God’s hands and hearts. Yes, there are times when God, in some miraculous way, intervenes and does what needs to be done, but not always and not as a rule. That is our job, our ministry. When we think about that, it can seem like a rather frightening responsibility.

It is but it does not have to be such. To be God’s ministers in this world we, first of all, have to know our God. That means we have to be in relationship with God. That demands a good prayer-life. It means that we have to be in contact with our God in no less a way than we are in contact with one another. No, we cannot see God as we see others; but we can still see our God with the eyes of our faith. That is not always easy but it is certainly easier when we keep in touch with God through thought and prayer.

When we think about our participation in God’s work in this world, as frightening and overwhelming as that may seem at times, we need to step back and remember the past and those who were God’s ministers and how they shaped and even changed the world for the better – Dr. King and those who marched and even gave their lives to right the injustices that racial prejudice allowed and fostered. God always works though God’s children to get God’s work in this world accomplished.

Each of us has a place in this world and in accomplishing God’s work in this world, a very unique place. We have to find that place, that ministry, a place and a ministry which no one else can fulfill. For most of us, perhaps for all of us, that ministry may seem mundane and trivial, but it is not. There are very few Martin Luther Kings and a whole lot of marchers-along. But without those marchers there would be no movement and God’s work would not be done.

DEMOCRACY

The political season is now full speed ahead now that the nominating conventions have concluded. It does seem, however, that the season began months ago if not four years ago. Be that as it may, I, for one, am not looking forward to the next eight weeks or so, for what we will see and hear is what we have been seeing and hearing for a very long time now: negatively piled upon negativity. To me, that is very, very sad.

For anyone who values democracy, the political atmosphere is toxic and not worthy of this great nation of ours. Parker J. Palmer addresses this situation in his latest book, Healing the Heart of Democracy: The Courage to Create a Politics Worthy of the Human Spirit. Politics, contrary to prevailing practice, is not dirty. In fact, it is quite the opposite, or at least it is supposed to be.

Here’s what Parker has to say: “Politics is the ancient and honorable human endeavor of creating a community in which the weak as well as the strong can flourish, love and power can collaborate, and justice and mercy can have their day.” Sounds like something Jesus would say were Jesus asked to comment on what politics is supposed to be about because that is certainly what Christianity is all about.

We are a diverse people in this country. That is what makes us so great and that is also what often causes problems and certainly why there are differences of opinion when it comes to politics. Diversity, according to Palmer, can be detrimental or beneficial but it is up to us as a people to which it will be. What we need, of course, is what has been lost in today’s political atmosphere: a change of heart so that we become civil one to another.

Being civil to another with whom we disagree does not mean simply watching our tongues. It comes, reminds Palmer, from valuing our differences. The reason our country had become the greatest nation on earth, even with all our failings and shortcomings, is that we are made up of all sorts and conditions of people and because we have learned from one another.

Even more, given that no two of us thinks exactly alike simply because we are all unique individuals who bring are personal histories to each situation, we will have differences of opinion on all sorts of issues. That’s normal. That’s human. That’s to be expected and even demanded if a democracy is to flourish. What a dull world we would live in if we all thought and acted alike.

Partisanship is not a problem. The political parties arose and exist because of partisan politics. There is nothing wrong with that. It is good. It is a good as well. We grow as a nation and as a person because we can learn from others who think differently than we do. They have something to teach us just as we have something to teach them. The problem that we have today is that instead of valuing our differences we demonize those who think differently, just listen to the political ads. That is sad.

Even more sadly is that nothing will change until we have a change of heart.