Last dance with mary jane...

The sounds of Tom Petty were in my head all weekend -"she grew up tall and she grew up right with them Indiana boys on an Indiana night" - for I just returned from a wedding in an Indiana town on an Indiana night and it was a sweet time.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FBMUv_r8uwc&feature=related

After a flight from Albany, NY to Lexington, KY my 31 year old daughter and I drove another three hours to offer support and love to young Kris (that's right his momma loved Kristofferson) on his wedding day. It was a long way to go for a short visit, but it felt important for this young man has seen more than his share of grief and loss and we wanted to add our small gift of encouragement. So with a few other members of clan Lumsden - and about 150 local Indiana farmers of German background - we rejoiced as Kris and Amy shared their vows to the sounds of Shania Twain and Trisha Yearwood. Later they danced to Bob Seeger and Meatloaf while their families ate fried chicken and drank beer.

It was a hoot to be in the German Midwest again - lots of beer, blondes and bratwurst - and even more fun to share it with my brother, Phil, who is a decidedly bi-coastal kind of boy. I have served congregations in Saginaw, MI and Cleveland, OH, but he's mostly lived in New England with a number of years in hippie Florida followed now by almost a lifetime in San Francisco. So he had no idea what was happening when the kids started acting like birds, clapping their hands in rhythm and laughing hysterically to the "Chicken Dance." But he had to admit it was hogs heaven eating that post wedding feast of hearty German fare. It was a whirlwind 48 hours of breakfasts with the wider family, laughter and tears and just a little worry for some of the family's children who are having a rough time right now.

And, as so often happens for me, all that time in the car on the way to family gatherings evoked a host of memories: the last time my daughter and I traveled together in a car for a family event was the funeral of Kris' five year old brother who died 20 years ago. Since then his mom (my sister) and his grandma (my mother) have gone, too. There wasn't a dry eye in the Lumsden clan pew when almost in unison we read the back of the wedding bulletin: Today we remember that loved ones are missing, ones our hearts hold on to as we travel along life's way, loved ones who made life special for all who have gathered here, ones who won't be forgotten but cherished from year to year. And now as we pause to remember, let us fondly recall how dearly each of us loved them... and how they loved us all. How does the New Testament preacher put it: since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses...? What's more, I discovered that both my mother and I LOVE Reuben sandwiches WITHOUT the usual American 1,000 Island dressing (and so does my youngest sister!)

I am back home in the Berkshires (after a tough flight) with my loved one and a faith community I love, looking forward to our daughter's wedding in just 30 days - and I can't help but meditate on this poem by Kabir:

Friend, hope for the Guest while you are alive.

Jump into experience while you are alive!

Think ... and think ... while you are alive.

What you call "salvation" belongs to the time before death.

If you don't break your ropes while you're alive,do you think ghosts will do it after? The idea that the soul will join with the ecstatic just because the body is rotten --that is all fantasy. What is found now is found then. If you find nothing now,you will simply end up with an apartment in the City of Death. If you make love with the divine now, in the next life you will have the face of satisfied desire... So plunge into the truth, find out who the Teacher is, believe in the Great Sound! Kabir says this: When the Guest is being searched for, it is the intensity of the longing for the Guest that does all the work. Look at me, and you will see a slave of that intensity.

Every day is a winding road...

I love Sheryl Crow: she is hot, talented, funny, a great rocker, dealt with cancer and heartbreak and a friend to those who love compassion. As today unfolded, I was struck by her song about how weird life can be if you are paying attention:

I hitched a ride with a vending machine repair man

He says hes been down this road more than twice

He was high on intellectualism

I've never been there but the brochure looks nice

Jump in, lets go, lay back, enjoy the show

Everybody gets high, everybody gets low,

These are the days when anything goes

Everyday is a winding road

I get a little bit closer

Everyday is a faded sign

I get a little bit closer to feeling fine

He's got a daughter he calls easter

She was born on a tuesday night

I'm just wondering why I feel so all alone

Why I'm a stranger in my own

Yesterday was hot as sin here - but today it is heaven. This weekend I will be in Indiana with my dear daughter, Jesse, participating and celebrating my nephew's wedding. It will be a mini-family reunion as my brother, Phil, and his wife, Julie, as well as my dad will all be in attendance. The celebration with Chris is important for many reasons not the least is that he is the only child of my late sister, Linda, to still be connected to the family. His older brother, Don, is bi-polar and has disappeared from family life and his younger brother, Michael, died on the operating table at age 5 many years ago. Chris had been in prison - one of the sad by-products of my sister's death - but cleaned up his act and was released on parole so that he could be with my mother in hospice care during the last month of her life. Wild, yes? So much pain, so much death and still there is new life and hope. So, we will rejoice with Chris at this wedding and party like it was... 1999?!?

I've been living in a sea of anarchy

I've been living on coffee and nicotine

I've been wondering if all the things

I've seen were ever real, were ever really happening

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l1hWfG69gUs&feature=related

Me, too, Sheryl, me, too! And then, from out of nowhere and old friend from forgotten days named Chris is in touch and... everyday is a winding road.

Hard love

Sometimes loving those closest to us is a joy - we all know what that feels like - but sometimes it is also a mess - hard, ugly, demanding and confusing. I know both of these truths - the joy and the mess - and the mess often pollutes my heart and soul. My AA friends call this "stinkin' thinkin'" - obsessing on self-pity and all the rest and remind me that sometimes no matter how much you love another, you just can't help them. After all, you're not God, right? That's what acceptance is all about. Reinhold Niebuhr put it like this - and I use it more than a few times each day:

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can;and wisdom to know the difference. Living one day at a time; Enjoying one moment at a time; Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace; Taking, as He did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it; Trusting that He will make all things right if I surrender to His Will;That I may be reasonably happy in this life and supremely happy with Him Forever in the next.Amen.

Norman Maclean, in his brilliant novella, A River Runs Through It (which was a family favorite) puts it like this on the tongue of the Reverend: Each one of us today will at one time in our lives look upon a loved one who is in need and ask the same question: We are willing help, but what, if anything, is needed? For it is true we can seldom help those closest to us. Either we don't know what part of ourselves to give or, more often than not, the part we have to give is not wanted. And so it is with those we live with and should know who elude us. But we can still love them - we can love completely without complete understanding.

And a little sermonette using some of the insights of Frederick Buechner said: That phrase, “mind your own business,” normally said in annoyance or anger but, according to Buechner, a necessary mantra to preserve our health and make us more effective in loving others, has been on my mind this week. “Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others.” (Philippians 2:3-4)

It seems that Paul is making a similar point in these verses in Philippians. He notes that we need to look to our own interests (mind to our own business) and also to the interests of others. He goes on to describe how we need to look to our own and others’ interests, offering Christ as the model. The words servant and humble are featured prominently in the verses that follow. We do not overpower others with force or for personal gain or glory, but give of ourselves willingly and obedient to God’s will.

Buechner’s final thought, flowing from the realization that he needed to mind his own business in order to help his daughter (who was plagued with anorexia), is that standing back and giving his daughter the freedom to make her own choices (to be well or to choose to die) is a metaphor for how God loves us. God, in his infinite power, holds back, in love, from overpowering us. This too is consistent with the picture in these verses in Philippians. The God of everything and everyone comes to serve, not command, and to pour out his life, not drown us with his power. So, mind your own business – make sure you are paying attention to your life, health and wholeness – and love your neighbor, whoever that may be, with humbleness and compassion, knowing that God is present and loves us in the best ways God can. (Anne Crawford, Frontline Devotions, July 2, 2005)

One of my favorite singer/songwriters, Bob Franke, put it so paradoxically right in his song, "Hard Love."

I remember growing up like it was only yesterday

Mom & Daddy tried their best to guide me on my way

But the hard times & the liquor drove the easy love away

And the only love I knew about was hard love

It was hard love, every hour of the day

When Christmas to my birthday was a million years away and the fear that came between them drove the tears into my play there was love in daddy's house, but it was hard love

And I recall the gentle courtesy you gave me as I tried to dissemble in politeness all the love I felt inside and for every song of laughter was another song that cried: This ain't no easy weekend, this is hard love

It was hard love, every step of the way hard to be so close to you, so hard to turn away and when all the stars and sentimental songs dissolved to day: there was nothing left to sing about but hard love

So I loved you for your courage, and your gentle sense of shame and I loved you for your laughter and your language and your name and I knew it was impossible, but I loved you just the same, though' the only love I gave to you was hard love, it was hard love, it was hard on you, I know when the only love I gave to you was love I couldn't show, you forgave the heart that loved you as your lover turned to go

Leaving nothing but the memory of hard love

So I'm standing in this phone booth with a dollar and a dime

Wondering what to say to you to ease your troubled mind

For the Lord's cross might redeem us, but our own just wastes our time and to tell the two apart is always hard, love so I'll tell you that I love you even though I'm far away and I'll tell you how you change me as I live from day to day, how you help me to accept myself and I won't forget to say love is never wasted, even when it's hard love yes, it's hard love, but it's love all the same, not the stuff of fantasy, but more than just a game and the only kind of miracle that's worthy of the name for the love that heals our lives is mostly hard love

(This isn't Bob but it's pretty good: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c0SniGCjdTc&feature=related)

And so it goes: mind my own business... looking towards humbleness and compassion... and accept that the rest is in God's hands: hard love.

Three blessings

Today I had lunch with an incredible musician and woman of spirit. We met recently at a wedding and really enjoyed one another's gifts. I am always taken aback when serendipity grabs my heart and this was one of those times: she has such grace and beauty in her playing - and such focused presence, too. We spoke of beauty and truth and helping others connect with those deep places of healing and hope within that go deeper than words or spiritual traditions. We hope to discover ways of working together to deepen this calling and I am certain that this was one of the reasons we left Tucson for the Berkshires. The theologian, Hans Urs von Balthasaar, put it like this:

We no longer dare to believe in beauty and we make of it a mere appearance in order the more easily to dispose of it. Our situation today shows that beauty demands for itself at least as much courage and decision as do truth and goodness, and she will not allow herself to be separated and banned from her two sisters without taking them along with herself in an act of mysterious vengeance. We can be sure that whoever sneers at her name as if she were the ornament of a bourgeois past - whether he admits it or not - can no longer pray and soon will no longer be able to love.

(You might enjoy listening to her play piano at: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wmo4oFgT0Sk)

I went from lunch to preparing for a class exploring the spiritual wisdom of the movie, "The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe." Ten people gathered tonight in the Berkshire heat wave to think about what it means to be childlike -and mature - in pursuit of God's kingdom. It was fun, deep, confusing and energizing to be with others who ache to go deeper into God's grace at this moment in time - the second blessing of the day.

And on Thursday of this week the debut of the new Berkshire Interfaith Alliance goes public at the Colonial Theatre with a showing of a film about disability, the spiritual journey within Judaism and the importance of community: “Praying With Lior." Following the film, Rabbi David Greenspoon of Congregation Knesset Israel will lead a talk-back session about the film with any interested audience members. The film is open to the public as part of the Colonial Theatre’s on-going film series. Tickets are $8.

This new consortium is building a community seeking common ground while respecting the differences within our tradition's and insights. It looks like another way to overcome the horrific and ugly divides of the culture war - blessing number three. Dear Emily Dickson wrote:

I died for Beauty - but was scarce

Adjusted in the Tomb

When One who died for Truth, was lain

In an adjoining room

He questioned softly "Why I failed"?

"For Beauty", I replied --

"And I -- for Truth -- Themself are One

We Brethren, are", He said

And so, as Kinsmen, met a Night

We talked between the Rooms

Until the Moss had reached our lips

And covered up - our names

The Sufi mystic, Rumi, writes:

Come, come, whoever you are.
Wanderer, idolater, worshipper of fire,
Come even though you have broken your vows a hundred time,
Come, and come yet again,
Ours is not a caravan of despair…

And the ancient Psalmist proclaims in Psalm 89:

Compassion and Justice are the roots of your rule;

Love and Truth are its fruits.
Blessed are the people who know the passwords of praise, who shout on parade in the bright presence of God. Delighted, they dance all day long; they know

who you are, what you do—they can't keep it quiet!

Your vibrant beauty has gotten inside us—

you've been so good to us! We're walking on air!

Thank you, O Sacred Love, for this day.

A living faith

Today I want to consider with you what it means to have a living faith. The late Charles Schultz, who drew the comic strip, “Peanuts,” once put together a quiz asking people to list the names of the most important people in the world. In Part One he asks: Who are the five wealthiest people in the world? What are the names of the last five winners of the Miss America contest? Name five people who have won the Nobel Peace prize? And tell me the names of the last half dozen Academy Award winners for best actor and actress?

Most people, Schultz discovered, didn’t do very well on part one of his quiz prompting him to write: “The facts are that none of us remember the headliners of yesterday. These are no second-rate achievers. They are all the best in their fields. But the applause dies, the achievements are forgotten and the accolades are buried with their owners.” So he gave them Part Two: What are the names of the teachers who helped you in school? Name three friends you really trust? Name five people who have taught you something worthwhile? And think of five people you really enjoy spending time with?

Was that easier? Schultz concludes saying, “The lesson here is that the people who make a difference most in your life are usually not the ones with the most credentials, the most money or the most awards. Rather, the people who are most important to us are the ones who really care.” And then he gives us this advice: Please don’t worry about the world coming to an end today… after all it’s already tomorrow in Australia.

Today, we have set aside time to celebrate our children and youth – and the women and men committed to sharing the goodness of God’s love with them as teachers – so let’s be clear that we have some of the most important people in the world right here! People who love and respect – cherish and honor – encourage and support our children and their faith. People who understand that faith is caught more than it is taught – people who grasp that disciples are made and formed but never born – and women and men who know that Christianity is always just one generation away from extinction. These people have embraced what is often called a “living faith.” So let’s be clear about what that means as we look at the story of Abraham who is called the father of faith for Jews, Christians and Muslims and then move to Jesus whom we know as Messiah.

Faith, as it was lived by Abraham, is a journey – a pilgrimage – a way of living that constantly calls him “out of the familiar and into the unknown.” One scholar puts it like this: (The Holy One’s) challenge to Abram is about leaving things with which he is accustomed behind and going to a place he has never seen. The command in Hebrew is ‘lek leka’, (is) an emphatic form which we could translate as ‘get going!’ And three things are mentioned which Abram is to leave: ‘Go from your country, your kindred and your father’s house.’ (Howard Wallace, Year A Pentecost Four, at the following: http://hwallace.unitingchurch.org.au/WebOTcomments/OrdinaryA/Pentecost4.html

Are you with me? Faith for Abraham is a living faith, an exploration of trust which pushes him beyond the familiar into the unknown blessings of God. What’s more, this faith journey includes the vast and broad aspects of living – your former country – as well as the most intimate aspects of everyday living – your father’s house. Do you see how the movement in the text speaks of faith on a macro and micro level – from the grand to the mundane – from our careers and life goals to our most secret hopes and dreams?

Many people want to create lives that are safe – security is crucial to them – so they construct habits, religions and opinions built upon fear. And maybe this is a part of human nature because old people do it as much as the young, women as often as men and the rich as much as the poor. And while safety has its place, faith doesn’t look very safe when seen through the eyes of Abraham (and let’s include Sarah) – does it?

As expressed by the Father and Mother of faith, it looks damned risky – always pushing us from the familiar into the unknown – always going out from home base out and into the wilderness – so first we speak of faith as a journey – not a destination nor a set of beliefs, but first a journey. Faith, in fact, is a way of living that calls us beyond the familiar to a search for God’s blessings in the unknown. Now, if faith is a journey, then one of the realities of being on a journey is that you have to keep your wits about you – and that’s the second truth about a living faith. Like the Sufi mystics going to pray at the mosque say: Lift your voice to Allah, but don’t forget to tie up your camel, too.

This living faith journey business takes some common sense in addition to trust; and this second truth is just as important the first. In fact, they must be held together or else we become so heavenly minded that we’re no earthly good for anyone. I think of that great story from Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav, the Ukrainian Hasidic rebbe who was the great, great grandson of the Baal Shem Tov who gave birth to the Hasidic way:

There was once a businessman, travelling by coach through a forest, who was accosted by a thief. "Your money or your life," said the thief. "Take all that I have," said the traveler, "but please don't harm me." So the thief took the man's money and was about to leave when his victim begged, "Take pity on me! How can I return home, having spent so much time on the road, with nothing to show for my effort? I'll be the laughing stock of the community. People will say that I failed as a businessman. They won't believe that I was robbed. At least if I could prove that I put up a great struggle before surrendering my possessions, then the disgrace would be easier to bear. Please, do me a favor and shoot two bullets into my top-hat so that the robbery will be obvious."

The thief was sympathetic and obliged his victim by firing two bullets into the hat. "While you're at it," pleaded the traveler, "maybe you could put another two holes into the coach." Again the thief consented, and fired two more rounds into the luxurious wagon. He was about to go when, in a voice which was hardly a whisper, his victim timidly said, "I know that this may seem silly, but perhaps you could shoot a few bullets into my overcoat so that the story will be more convincing." The thief did as he was asked until all his bullets were gone at which point the traveler overpowered his assailant and retrieved his money.

Ok? Faith is a journey – a way of living that demands your total concentration – it is less about belief than action – and it touches every aspect of your life. We’re not just speaking about Sunday mornings or when it is convenient: we’re talking politics, sex, economics, family life and all the rest. Listen to how St. Paul speaks of faith:

Here’s what I want you to do, God helping you: take your everyday, ordinary life – your sleeping, eating, going-to-work-and-school and walking around life – and place it before God as an offering. Embracing what God does for you is the best thing you can do for the Lord. Don’t become so well-adjusted to your culture that you fit into it without even thinking about it. Instead, fix your attention of God and you will be changed from the inside out. Readily recognize what God wants from you and quickly respond to it. Unlike the culture all around you, always dragging you down to its level of immaturity, God brings the best out of you and develops well-formed maturity in you. Romans 12, The Message, Eugene Peterson

Now this does not happen by accident – and it doesn’t happen by magic either: we grow in well-formed maturity, blessed with wisdom and faith like Abraham and Sarah by opening every aspect of our lives to the journey. And here’s one of the hard won truths of a living faith: we can’t do it all by ourselves. It is too counter-cultural – we need too much help to resist giving up – so God created allies for us – and in our tradition we call these allies the Church – the living Body of Christ in a different form.

So jump ahead to this morning’s Jesus story because it emphasizes our need for helpers along the way of faith. It begins by saying that as Jesus was walking along his journey of faith, he saw a man collecting taxes and said to Matthew, “Come along and spend time with me.” And Matthew stood up and followed him. That’s a simple reminder that we can’t stay on this journey into the unknown all by ourselves – it’s too hard – we need help.

What happens next? They go to a party – a feast – a banquet – again we’re talking community and support, right? And who happens to be at this fiesta? Religion scholars and sinners – lawyers and prostitutes – Pharisees and a lot of disreputable characters – people who look good on the outside and folks whose lives are a total mess: now what do you think about that?

I think it has something to do with the fact that within every person – and every church – and every political party – and every religion and country there is always a mixed up combination of good and bad, clean and dirty, hopeful and afraid. Everybody is mixed up, right? The President and the Pope – Mom and Dad – you and me. And faith may have something to do with embracing just how mixed up we really are so that we don’t go around pointing fingers, looking for the sins of others while denying our own and causing more pain than life already bring us. Could it be that part of faith has to do with refusing to play it safe by seeing the good in those we don’t understand? And accepting our own mixed motives? And learning to live beyond our comfort zone of security by trusting that most other folk are just as mixed up and afraid as we are?

I suspect that is part of where Jesus is going when he tells ALL the people at the party – the pretty ones and those who are obviously wounded – go and find out what this means: I am after mercy, not religion! I am here to welcome the outsiders, not coddle insiders. Jesus remembered God’s promise to Abraham and Sarah which began our conversation about faith: Get going so that through you I might share blessings with… whom? Some of the people of the world – just the pretty and the rich – only the Jews or the Christians – mostly the Americans but no one else: no God’s promise of blessing was for all of creation – dare I say even the good and bad all mixed up?

Jean Vanier, who founded a series of small homes throughout Canada dedicated to integrating developmentally challenged folk with mainstream people dedicated to radical Christian faith, wrote:

There is a danger in issue-oriented groups that are not based on community – and that danger is that the enemy is always seen as being outside the group. The world gets divided between the “good and the bad” – and we are always among the good… In this setting the enemy is always outside. True community, however, is different because of the realization that the evil of the world is inside – not just inside the community – but inside of me, too.

And so our teachers – our leaders – and our commitment as a congregation is to teach and embody this inclusive understanding of a living faith: Faith is a way of living that calls us beyond the familiar in a search for God’s blessings in the unknown. Faith is much less about belief than action – especially action that advances blessing for those often forgotten or excluded. And faith recognizes that we are all mixed up and in need of God’s loving hope and healing.

Jesus was clear: “I am after mercy, not religion… I have come to push you beyond your comfort zones and welcome you onto the road that leads us away familiar and into the unknown so that you may share my blessings with all the mixed up people in all the crazy places of life. By doing this, our teachers and leaders – and even our children – join the cause of God’s blessings in the world just as was promised Abraham and Sarah. It is hard work – and it takes a long time to see the evidence – but it is work that heals – and even saves – the world.

We hold these truths to be self evident...

I was raised in the early days of the collapse of American apartheid. One night, lying in bed talking with my Aunt Donna (in another bed, to be sure) who was just 5 years older than me when I was 8, I remember her speaking of the family's recent trip (1960) to Oklahoma to visit her brother: "They had separate drinking fountains and restrooms marked "colored" and "white." Our family lived in racially integrated Connecticut and were horrified that blacks and whites were still kept separate by law in parts of the South. Nevertheless, I had never seen a living Black person until the mid 60s - before that the only people of color I knew were the "natives" of Tarzan movies. I didn't even know that the children's rhyme -eenie, meenie, mynee mo - was a racial slur until the campaigns of Dr. King helped me understand that the "N" word was ugly and wrong.

I came from good Scots-Irish, working class, New England stock and we didn't associate with people of color beyond the work place. My grandma worked everyday with African-American cooks in the factory - and she loved them as colleagues - and still she taught me that God created the races to be separate and integration violated the sacred plan of the Lord. She railed at me when my 60s rock band auditioned at a Black club and freaked when we had some Black singers for a while: this goes against the Law of God! And while we in the North hated discrimination in theory, we feared integration in our neighborhoods as much as any Southern redneck.

So I am overwhelmed tonight with tears of joy to see Barack Obama win the nomination to be President of the United States on the Democratic ticket. It was only 45 years ago that apartheid ended in America - and so much has changed. My children are much more color blind than I ever was. They are also much more relaxed about gender differences, too. Dr. King, in his last speech to striking garbage workers in Memphis, Tennessee shared these prophetic words in his imaginary conversation with the Lord of Creation:

"Strangely enough, (if I could choose when to live) I would turn to the Almighty, and say, "If you allow me to live just a few years in the second half of the twentieth century, I will be happy." Now that's a strange statement to make, because the world is all messed up. The nation is sick. Trouble is in the land. Confusion all around. That's a strange statement. But I know, somehow, that only when it is dark enough, can you see the stars. And I see God working in this period of the twentieth century in a away that men, in some strange way, are responding — something is happening in our world. The masses of people are rising up. And wherever they are assembled today, whether they are in Johannesburg, South Africa; Nairobi, Kenya; Accra, Ghana; New York City; Atlanta, Georgia; Jackson, Mississippi; or Memphis, Tennessee — the cry is always the same — "We want to be free."

I might claim the same blessing tonight for the 21st century: men - and women - are rising up and crying "We want to be free." Free from fear. Free from want. Free from destroying creation. Free from stupid and ugly wars. Free from racism - and sexism - and gender bigotry and all the rest. Free from culture wars. Free from all the bullshit that usually divides us... it is a sweet and beautiful night in America tonight and I give thanks to God that I was alive to see it happen. I have no idea where things will be tomorrow. But today I rejoice that for a moment, at least, we have overcome. As the election returns came in, my wife and I sat before the TV singing U2's song, "Pride in the Name of Love." It is always worth a reprise... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZdpwvVBXdfQ

I also reread Dr. King's last speech from Memphis - a speech that was unusually personal and prophetic - one in which he spoke of an assasination attempt and I reprise these words for you: You know, several years ago, I was in New York City autographing the first book that I had written. And while sitting there autographing books, a demented black woman came up. The only question I heard from her was, "Are you Martin Luther King?" And I was looking down writing, and I said yes. And the next minute I felt something beating on my chest. Before I knew it I had been stabbed by this demented woman. I was rushed to Harlem Hospital. It was a dark Saturday afternoon. And that blade had gone through, and the X-rays revealed that the tip of the blade was on the edge of my aorta, the main artery. And once that's punctured, you drown in your own blood—that's the end of you. It came out in the New York Times the next morning, that if I had sneezed, I would have died.

Well, about four days later, they allowed me, after the operation, after my chest had been opened, and the blade had been taken out, to move around in the wheel chair in the hospital. They allowed me to read some of the mail that came in, and from all over the states, and the world, kind letters came in. I read a few, but one of them I will never forget. I had received one from the President and the Vice-President. I've forgotten what those telegrams said. I'd received a visit and a letter from the Governor of New York, but I've forgotten what the letter said. But there was another letter that came from a little girl, a young girl who was a student at the White Plains High School. And I looked at that letter, and I'll never forget it. It said simply, "Dear Dr. King: I am a ninth-grade student at the White Plains High School." She said, "While it should not matter, I would like to mention that I am a white girl. I read in the paper of your misfortune, and of your suffering. And I read that if you had sneezed, you would have died. And I'm simply writing you to say that I'm so happy that you didn't sneeze."

And I want to say tonight, I want to say that I am happy that I didn't sneeze. Because if I had sneezed, I wouldn't have been around here in 1960, when students all over the South started sitting-in at lunch counters. And I knew that as they were sitting in, they were really standing up for the best in the American dream. And taking the whole nation back to those great wells of democracy which were dug deep by the Founding Fathers in the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution. If I had sneezed, I wouldn't have been around in 1962, when Negroes in Albany, Georgia, decided to straighten their backs up. And whenever men and women straighten their backs up, they are going somewhere, because a man can't ride your back unless it is bent. If I had sneezed, I wouldn't have been here in 1963, when the black people of Birmingham, Alabama, aroused the conscience of this nation, and brought into being the Civil Rights Bill. If I had sneezed, I wouldn't have had a chance later that year, in August, to try to tell America about a dream that I had had. If I had sneezed, I wouldn't have been down in Selma, Alabama, been in Memphis to see the community rally around those brothers and sisters who are suffering. I'm so happy that I didn't sneeze.

I am, too, because tonight it is clear that the dream lives on.

One of the greats has gone home...

Brother Bo Diddley went home today at 79. The Rolling Stones first turned me on to Bo Diddley when they did "Mona" back in 1964- and it set something afire in this white boy that hasn't been put out yet! Like the first time I heard Little Richard in 1958: oh my God! I loved the Big Man's attitude and style and wild ass rhythm - and he had a funky sexy girl guitar player, too! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M8PIbrMh6vo&feature=related

Later Springsteen put together a mix and match Bo Diddly/Buddy Holly/Bossman medley that drove me crazy in 1977 when Springsteen's live shows crashed into the audience like a heavenly rock'n'roll history train wreck and revival that ended with "She's the One." (Check out: Mona -http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rnUVfdpDXQ0 - then: She's the One -http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zO1bbfs2Hbo&feature=related

My life was changed by this man so I pray: rest in peace, Big Man and thanks for the blessings along the way. You were one badass Road Runner. Here's a prayer from Ed Hays that I have been using whenever I hear of the death of one who has touched my life:

Blessed are you, Lord our God,

for you are the Keeper of the Book of Life.

Today I have learned of the death of Bo Diddley,

and, as this type of news always does, it comes as a shock.

We know, Lord, that we all must die,

and that You alone keep the dates of our death in your Book of Life,

but we still share the shock of death.

That news carries with it the shadow of fear,

for it is a reminder that, someday, I too shall die.

Today, then, I pray for Bo Diddley who has passed through the doorway of death - and I pray for myself, too.

I remember in my prayer the members of the Big Man's family who are surely lost in sorrow at this time.

Support them with Your Holy Spirit and grant them the courage to embrace this tragic mystery

as part of the plan of life.

May the news of this death be for me a holy message of how not to waste my todays,

how not to be unprepared for the arrival of death in my own life.

May I best remember Bo by being grateful for life today and by love You, My God, with all my heart, all my strength and all my mind.

Eternal rest to a Rock and Roll giant and divine consolation to his family.

Amen.

Be gentle, good and faithful friends, be gentle

Word just came in that Senator Barack Obama has resigned his membership from Trinity United Church of Christ. Be gentle with your reactions, good and faithful friends, be gentle: the politics of winning are complicated, aren't they? St. Paul's words in Philippians 4:8 come to my mind: you'll do best by filling your minds and meditating on things true, noble, reputable, authentic, compelling, gracious—the best, not the worst; the beautiful, not the ugly; things to praise, not things to curse. Put into practice what you learned from me, what you heard and saw and realized. Do that, and God, who makes everything work together, will work you into his most excellent harmonies.

Some pundits and critics - Senator Clinton among them - will say that it is about time, others will wail this is too little too late and still others will try to use the totally misunderstood realities of the progressive Black Church to make the case that Obama is "not like us." Frankly, I am not at all surprised that this decision has been made given the recent hoopla around Father Mike; the church simply became too much of a liability in this hyper-sensitive atmosphere. Sadly, the place that helped Obama grow in faith and integrity has become a burden; what's more, the student has grown beyond his mentors.

I know this drill - I was a church based community organizer - I even worked with the same consortium in Cleveland that Obama worked for in Chicago. In those down and dirty fights for the rights of the forgotten and maligned, you use whatever resources you have to advance the cause. In Rules for Radicals, the grandpa of community organizing, Saul Alinsky, wrote of his campaigns against Eastman Kodak in Rochester, NY - and he wasn't afraid to use the natural effects of beans to stink out the power elite from their upper crust concerts if they refused to meet and negotiate with poor people of color. Hyperbole and in your face actions are the stuff of street politics in the rough and tumble world of community organizing. What's more, sometimes you can't help yourself in the heat of a campaign. Guess what? Real people sometimes take cheap shots at one another. I've done it and probably so have you - and while we're not proud of it in retrospect - it is part of being a broken human being who cares deeply.

Given the fact that a Black man is so close to securing the Democratic nomination for President of the United States of America, Obama had to cut Trinity loose. Reinhold Niebuhr used to advise his social justice colleagues to learn from the children of darkness and apply it to the light; he also spoke about being "wise as serpents and gentle as doves." And so Obama acted accordingly. He understands that he cannot control his church. He knows that most of White America doesn't get - and is actually terrified by - the boldness of the prophetic Black church. And he is keenly aware that there is a difference between a regional and national audience. Father Mike's schtick works in Chicago. He was actually very precise in his bold and savage critique of Senator Clinton albeit in a typically Chicago, over-the-top kind of way. But Chicago politics/Second City comedy and all the rest have limited appeal beyond Cook County.

Obama has a calling beyond the Windy City and I give thanks that he does. We are now looking at race relations in America again. The whole of the United States is trying to come to grips with Black (and Brown/Yellow/GLBT and other) anger, too, after 40 years in the wilderness. It will be interesting to see what happens next; in the meantime, the poem of Bertolt Brecht's comes to mine that speaks of the fights the German communists had with their oppressors. It ends with a word of caution: "Forgive us... for we became what we hated."

I leave you with this tune from one of my old singing friends, Garth Brooks, who cuts to the chase better than most in his song, "We Shall Be Free." http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XepgIPFV8PQ

This ain't comin' from no prophet

Just an ordinary man

When I close my eyes I see

The way this world shall be

When we all walk hand-in-hand

When the last child cries for a crust of bread

When the last man dies for just words that he said

When there's shelter over the poorest head

We shall be free

When the last thing we notice is the color of skin

And the first thing we look for is the beauty within

When the skies and the oceans are clean again

Then we shall be free

We shall be free. We shall be free.

Stand straight. Walk proud, 'Cause we shall be free.

When we're free to love anyone we choose

When this world's big enough for all different views

When we all can worship from our own kind of pew

Then we shall be free
We shall be free. We shall be free.

Have a little faith. Hold out. 'Cause we shall be free.

And when money talks for the very last time

And nobody walks a step behind

When there's only one race and that's humankind

Then we shall be free

We shall be free. We shall be free.

Stand straight, (Walk proud.)

Have a little faith. (Hold out.) We shall be free.

We shall be free. We shall be free.

(Stand straight,) Stand straight.

Have a little faith. We shall be free.

We shall be free. We shall be free.

Stand straight. Walk proud. We shall be free.

God damn right its a beautiful day...

Sometimes the only thing you can say about a day as totally lovely as this one in the Berkshires is what Mr. E sang in the first single from Daisies of the Galaxy: God damn right it's a beautiful day!

The smokestack spitting black soot into the sooty sky, the load on the road brings a tear to the Indian's eye
The elephant won't forget what it's like inside his cage, the ringmaster's telecaster sings on an empty stage

Goddamn right it's a beautiful day

Goddamn right it's a beautiful day

The girl with the curls and the sweet pink ribbon in her hair, she's crawling out her window 'cause her daddy He just don't care Come on

Goddamn right it's a beautiful day
Goddamn right it's a beautiful day

The clown with the frown driving down to the sidewalk fair

Finger on the trigger let me tell you gave us quite a scare

Goddamn right it's a beautiful day

Goddamn right it's a beautiful day

The kids flip their lids when their ids hear that crazy sound

My neighbor digs the flavor still he's moving to another town

And I don't believe he'll come back

Goddamn right it's a beautiful day

Goddamn right it's a beautiful day

Well i don't know how you take in all the shit you see

No don't believe anyone and most of all don't believe me - believe you

Goddamn right it's a beautiful day

Goddamn right it's a beautiful day

Check it out: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lP6ueUFOXTc

My wife turned me on to the Eels a few years ago - they are hip, vulnerable, fun, creative and a combination of Leonard Cohen meets Frank Zappa and the Beatles for a 21st century audience - and I find myself singing this crazy ass song whenever days like this come my way. Now I know some people of faith are uncomfortable with hard language - Clarence Jordan used to call them "Kleenex Christians with tissue paper feelings" - good souls who are so rattled by the hard realities of real life (to say nothing of the earthy language of Jesus in the scriptures) - that they can't relate to regular slobs like you and me. So while I think there is a season for all things - including rough words and beautiful poetry - this song not only has a fun groove but you can't help but laugh at the irony of life's pain surrounded by so much beauty. Old U2 put it a little more gently in their song with a similar title, but take note: they reference the flood of Noah, the pollution of God's sweet planet, traffic jams, boredom and the crazy mix of isolation and technology that has become the post-modern reality of 21st century living.

The heart is a bloom

Shoots up through the stony ground

There's no room

No space to rent in this town

You're out of luck

And the reason that you had to care

The traffic is stuck and you're not moving anywhere

You thought you'd found a friend

To take you out of this place

Someone you could lend a hand In return for grace

It's a beautiful day sky falls,

You feel like It's a beautiful day

Don't let it get away

You're on the road

But you've got no destination

You're in the mud in the maze of her imagination

You love this town even if that doesn't ring true

You've been all over and it's been all over you

It's a beautiful day Don't let it get away

It's a beautiful day

Touch me - Take me to that other place

Teach me I know I'm not a hopeless case

See the world in green and blue

See China right in front of you

See the canyons broken by cloud

See the tuna fleets clearing the sea out

See the Bedouin fires at night

See the oil fields at first light

And see the bird with a leaf in her mouth

After the flood all the colors came out

It was a beautiful day don't let it get away

Beautiful day

Touch me Take me to that other place

Reach me I know I'm not a hopeless case

What you don't have you don't need it now

What you don't know you can feel it somehow

What you don't have you don't need it now

Don't need it now

Was a beautiful day

Check it out live from the Brooklyn Bridge: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=18L4id_ZoPU

I love the paradox of these songs - a spirituality that owns how messy life is and how mixed up this whole blessings and curse thing is, too - I bump into it all the time: a family hates divorce but knows it is the best course for their beloved child, an adult son loves his alcoholic father in spite of all the wounds, a saint of the church finds herself with cancer at the prime of her life but keeps on loving. Makes me think of how Lou Reed put it in that song cylce he wrote about friends taken by cancer and suicide that I listened to prayerfully over and over 15 years ago while my sister, Linda, died a miserable death of cancer of the cervix.

Life's like forever becoming but life's forever dealing in hurt

Now life's like death without living

That's what life's like without you

Life's like Sanskrit read to a pony

I see you in my mind's eye strangling on your tongue

What's good is knowing such devotion

I've been around - I know what makes things run

What good is seeing eye chocolate

What good's a computerized nose

And what good was cancer in April

Why no good - no good at all

What good's a war without killing

What good is rain that falls up

What good's a disease that won't hurt you

Why no good, I guess, no good at all

What good are these thoughts that I'm thinking

It must be better not to be thinking at all

A styrofoam lover with emotions of concrete

No not much, not much at all

What's good is life without living

What good's this lion that barks

You loved a life others throw away nightly

It's not fair, not fair at all

What's good?oh, baby, what's good?

What's good?what's good? not much at all

Hey, baby, what's good? (what's good?)

What's good? (what's good?)what's good? (what's good?)

Not much at all

What's good? (what's good?)what's good? (life's good)

Life's good (life's good)what's good? (life's good) but not fair at all

Check it out: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jWwdgXjM5Do

Life is good - not fair at all - you got that right, Lou. And still however you slice it - with sweet words or coarse - this was a beautiful day. And I have to say thanks be to God.

When children become our rabbis

This morning I want to speak to our children – and their families – and all who gather in this place and love these children and their families. I also want to speak to those of you who don’t like children and would rather they weren’t around to make things noisy and messy – you know who you are – people who like church quiet, well-ordered and nice. And what I want to speak with all of you about is how important it is to welcome children not only into worship, but also to the table of grace we sometimes call Holy Communion.

You see, I believe it is absolutely necessary to not only break open our celebration of Holy Communion at First Church to accept children without reservation, but I have come to believe that we have to do so in a way that is intentional, bold and wildly inclusive. You may have gathered by now that I don’t think Jesus was kidding when he told us that unless we are ready, willing and able to embrace the kingdom of God like a child, we are going to miss it! What’s more, I suspect that some of us are missing it because we haven’t figured out the difference between being childlike and being childish when it comes to welcoming – or embracing – God’s radically upside down kingdom. And that gives the presence of children around the communion table an increased importance to us for they can become unintentional rabbis if we have eyes to see. Eugene Peterson puts it like this in today’s gospel:

Knowing the correct password—saying 'Master, Master,' for instance (or going through the motions) — isn't going to get you anywhere with me. What is required is serious obedience—doing what my Father wills. I can see it now—at the Final Judgment thousands strutting up to me and saying, 'Master, we preached the Message, we bashed the demons, our God-sponsored projects had everyone talking.' And do you know what I am going to say? 'You missed the boat. All you did was use me to make yourselves important. You don't impress me one bit. You're out of here. These words I speak to you are not incidental additions to your life, homeowner improvements to your standard of living. They are foundational words, words to build a life on. If you work these words into your life, you are like a smart carpenter who built his house on solid rock. Rain poured down, the river flooded, a tornado hit—but nothing moved that house. It was fixed to the rock.

You see, what Jesus is saying – and what so many children understand intuitively – is that all the BS in the world doesn’t matter one iota to the Lord. Would you agree with me – especially those who either have children or work with them – that children have great BS detectors? Oh I know somebody is going to get their nose out of joint because I said BS in this fine New England pulpit, but let’s get real and quit being Kleenex Christians with tissue paper feelings as Clarence Jordan used to say: young people know when they are being fed a line of garbage. And that’s the first reason that Jesus told us that in the upside down kingdom of God children would become our rabbis: they can smell bullshit a mile away and they say so. They want life – and religion – to be about things that matter: life, death, love, hope, integrity and joy.

I love the story of the 7 year old girl who just hated to eat Brussel sprouts: one day, after her mother had worked hard all day and cooked a dinner that included these dreaded little cabbages, the girl lost it. She refused to eat them and staged a virtual sit down strike. So her mother said, “Sara, you will make God very unhappy if you don’t eat those Brussel Sprouts – and I will have to send you to bed without any more supper.” Well, that just set up a test of the wills and Sara refused to budge. So momma sent her baby up to bed without any more dinner and when young Sara got to her room, as fate would have it, it started to rain and thunder like cats and dogs. About 30 minutes later, wondering what was going on, momma went to the top of the stairs to check on her daughter only to find Sara looking out the window shaking her head slowly at the storm saying: “Lord, I don’t see why you have to make such a fuss, they were only Brussels sprouts!”

“If you just use my words in Bible studies and don't work them into your life,” Jesus said, “you are like a stupid carpenter who built his house on the sandy beach. When a storm rolled in and the waves came up, it collapsed like a house of cards." I call that: slip slidin’ away – and because children have a shorter attention span than some of us adults – I’m going to invite my musical friends up here to sing that great Paul Simon song for you as a way of reinforcing this idea. (One of my favorites: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vuPJzzcV6jA)

Now the second reason that I am pretty sure Jesus wants us to welcome children around our communion table is that this is one of the best ways for them to learn what is really important in our faith. You may recall that there are three tables we Christians use when we get together: The first is the Passover Table which is a supper designed to help everyone remember and participate in the goodness of God’s love, right? And children are an integral part of the Seder: they ask special questions, they have key roles and they help keep the whole feast fun and focused. The second table is the one the disciples gathered around in the Upper Room on the night before Jesus was given over to death – and it, too, was a Passover feast but with a slightly different emphasis. At this table we recall how Christ’s love was so great that he was willing to give himself up for us – it is a much more somber feast than the traditional Passover Seder – and helps us connect with the importance of sharing love in sacrificial ways.

And the third table is the one our Risen Lord shared with his disciples along the Emmaus Road: it is the table of fellowship and learning – the scripture tells us that Jesus interpreted the Bible for them so that their eyes were opened at the breaking of the bread – it is a feast of discovery and community. Three different tables – three different experiences – and all are essential for forming authentic disciples. Children learn a great deal by what they see the adults in their lives doing – they come to understand what has value and what doesn’t by observing what their loved ones give their attention to – so we had better include our young ones at these tables, don’t you think?

If the New Covenant is to matter to our children, then like our Jewish great grandparents we, too, need to: Place these words on your hearts. Get them deep inside you. Tie them on your hands and foreheads as a reminder and teach them to your children. Talk about them wherever you are, sitting at home or walking in the street; talk about them from the time you get up in the morning until you fall into bed at night. Inscribe them on the doorposts and gates of your cities so that you'll live a long time, and your children with you, on the soil that God promised to give your ancestors for as long as there is a sky over the Earth.

Our spiritual heirs, of course, were not speaking of Jesus and his love; they were not talking about the three tables of Holy Communion but, rather, God’s love as experienced in the Exodus from slavery. And the way they remembered this – and what they taught their children and wrote on the doorposts of their homes – was the Shema Yisrael: Hear, O Israel, the Lord is our God and is One. And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your strength and all your might. (Deuteronomy 6: 4)

But the principle is the same: if you want your children to know the heart of your encounter with the One who is Holy, then you have to teach it to them and talk about it and include them in the celebration of the blessing over and over and over again. Some old folks like to say, “Well, you know, you really can’t include children in communion until they understand what they are doing.” Let me respond with these words from our friends at the Seasons of the Spirit learning group:

It was Anna’s birthday and everything was ready. One candle had been carefully positioned in the middle of her cake. Balloons were hanging from the ceiling, her grandparents came in through the back door with an armload of presents and Anna’s brothers were busy teaching her how to open her gifts. For the birthday lunch, Anna sat in a special place reserved at the head of the table. And after the meal, everyone joined in singing “Happy Birthday” and helped her blow out the candle on her cake. This special meal was new to her but as Anna took part in the celebration she felt loved and a part of the family. She didn’t understand what it all meant… or did she?

It was David’s first communion and everything was ready. The candles in the chancel had all been lit, the special banners were hanging in the sanctuary and a family brought the bread they had just baked on Saturday to the front, placing it carefully beside a jug of wine. As worship began, David sat with his family near the front of the church. He watched intently as the bread and cup were passed from one person to another. As his mother passed the bread to him she said, “The bread of life for you, David” and he took a piece eagerly. Then the young boy passed the bread to his father saying, “The bread of life for you, Dad” and he did the same with the cup. This special meal was new to David but as he took part in the celebration he felt loved and special – part of the family – but he didn’t understand what it all meant… or did he?

These are foundational words, words to build a life on, words to shape the lives of young disciples: today I have brought before you the way of life and death – blessings and curse – and invite you to choose for such is the upside down logic and blessing of the kingdom of God where children can become our rabbis in the Spirit of Jesus.