Ramblings

Stewardship of Pain – 11/13/2011

Matthew 25: 14-30

In today's Scripture lesson, Jesus tells the parable of a wealthy man who abruptly goes on a journey, and before embarking on his trip he distributes his property among his servants. To one he gives — in modern, pre-inflation dollars —$1,000,000, to another, $400,000, and to a third, a mere $200,000.

The lesson unfolds with Jesus telling us that the one with a million invests his million and makes another million. The one with $400,000 turns it into $800,000. But the servant with $200,000 digs a hole in the back yard, stashes the cash in a coffee can, and waits.

At first glance it would seem that this third guy is so risk-adverse, that he is so afraid that he will lose the cash, he is so afraid of the consequences of losing, and is so afraid of the master's reaction if he does lose, he simply hangs on.

To be honest my first reaction is perhaps one that you may have. This third got the cash, but he limited his options. He limited the possibilities. Therefore Jesus is telling us in this parable for all of us to hurriedly get on the bus or into our cars or trucks and head off to the nearest office of Edward Jones or Morgan Stanley or Goldman Sachs investment firms.

But if you think about this scripture lesson as simply a reminder to invest what we have, then these words would hardly be good news for some of us who can barely keep up with our bills.

So, looking a little deeper at the parable, what was it that kept the one servant from producing more talents for his master? May be it is the third servants' fear, where as the others are confident. This third servant was afraid of his master and so he did nothing with what had been given him. He was more afraid than confident and only gave back the bare minimum to the one that gave him the talent in the first place.

But, to be honest with you, getting over our fears does not necessarily mean we have more confidence. Fear or getting over our fears fails to deliver long-term motivation. Perhaps that is one of many reasons why Jesus from my perspective actively avoids painting more images of angry God. Jesus may have recognized that fear or getting over fear is like a wild-fire --- once a small flame ignites, it's pretty hard to contain and difficult to direct.

There is a third possibility about this third servant and his reaction to the master. I found it in a story told in a sermon by Frederick Buechner. (Link) Pastor Buechner, a Presbyterian minister and writer, had an insight that may be helpful to us.

During a lecture at a conference Pastor Buechner shared a story from his childhood. It took place in the 1930's during the Depression when there wasn't much money; although there was prohibition there was an awful lot of drinking going on in the world and in his family. Pastor Buechner shared that one night his father had come back from somewhere. He had obviously had too much to drink. Pastor Buechner related how his mother did not want his father to take the car in his drunken condition so she gave the keys to then ten year old Frederick. When she gave the keys she also said "Don't let you father have these."

Frederick who at this time was in bed took the car keys and hid them in his fist under the pillow. His father however, came and somehow knew that young Frederick had the keys and said, "Give them to me. I have got to have them. I have got to go some place." Buechner related later how he didn't know what to say, what to be or how to react. He was frightened, sad and all the rest of it. As he lay there and listened to his father, drunkenly pleading, "Give me the keys," Frederick pulled the covers over his head and then finally, went to sleep with his father's voice in his ears and the keys firmly in his fist under the pillow.

After he told that story in his larger lecture, a participant came up afterward and said, "You have had a fair amount of pain in your life, like everybody else. You have been a good steward of it." That phrase caught Pastor Buechner off guard and it should us as well: "a good steward" of pain.

There are many alternatives we can do with pain. The most tempting is to forget it, to hide it, to cover it over, to pretend it never happened, because it is too hard to deal with. Pain is too unsettling to remember. Another alternative is to take our pain and live in a world of fantasy, a world that helps us escape because reality only brings us more pain. Or we can deal with pain as a conspiracy of family. Let us agree not to talk about things that cause pain. We cannot trust the world with those secrets. They are family secrets to keep hidden. Let the pain die with each generation.

Of course another alternative is to use our pain to win sympathy. We have a sob story that we can tell hoping that people will sob with us. We may even embellish what actually happened to our advantage or to one up the other person with a painful story. We also can also use our pain as an excuse; "If only I had gotten the breaks; if only those bad things hadn't happened, who knows where I might have been today."

Another temptation with pain is to allow pain to leave us embittered and trapped by it. The classic example of that is the tragic character of Miss Haversham in Charles Dickens's wonderful novel, Great Expectations. She was deserted by her bridegroom on her wedding day. He never showed up. After that painful event she sat for the rest of her life sitting in the room where the reception was to have been, her wedding cake slowly dissolving into mold, her dress turning to rags, imprisoned in sadness that she simply never could escape. All of these are options of dealing with pain.

But instead we can be "good stewards" of pain, take it and grow from it, use it to grow as disciples. Let us return to the third man in our parable, perhaps that one-talent man buried the richest treasure he had, not just the pain, but the most alive part of himself, buried it all in the ground. This third servant was never able to become who he might have been. If we see the parable this way it can explain the outer darkness the Master casts him into. The outer darkness is not as a punishment, as it is the inevitable consequence of what it means to bury ourselves. If we bury life --- like pain --- we never leave. Not only do we never really meet other people who are alive, we are alone; we are in the dark. If life is buried, if the pain for example is somehow covered over and forgotten, instead of growing, we shrink.

The other two servants are the ones who came back with more than they started out with. As the parable says, "they traded" or "put money to work." Those words from the parable are not an advertisement for Bank of America; rather it means that the other two "traded" with their lives. We were made to be life traders, because I have what you need, which is me, and you have what I need, which is you. That is the joy into which the Master invites his servants.

For example, to be stewards of pain is to treasure, or "trade," to the point where pain can become compassion and healing, not just for us, but also for other people. If we want to see that sort of thing in operation, the stewardship of pain, using pain for healing of ourselves and others, go attend an open meeting of AA or any of the related groups. That is exactly what people are doing in AA, sharing, trading their hurts, and their experiences and --- for healing.

But this parable is not simply a method for self help. One of the curious facts about each one of us is not what we believe or don't believe about God, but rather what we believe or don't believe about ourselves. The most pervasive tendency of Christians is to be reluctant servants. It is the belief that if God wants something done hopefully God will call on someone more able than me to do it. This parable is a reminder that there is no one else. It is you and me.

When Jesus was tempted by evil early in his ministry in the wilderness, Jesus did not go back to study the Old Testament, or look for someone else from the Bible Study to answer the questions, fearful that he did not have the skills necessary. When Jesus was rejected by his own community he did not conspire with his family and bury the painful rejection. When Jesus faced the most powerful people around, the he did not walk away from conflict and controversy, waiting for a moment when he was stronger. When Jesus was in the Garden of Gethsemane facing the certainty of death, Jesus did not abandon what he started.

The cross of Christ reminds us that out of the greatest pain endured in love and faithfulness can come the greatest beauty and our greatest hope. The stewardship of pain could not stay buried; there needs to be resurrection because out of pain comes life otherwise it is like a talent buried. Let us be stewards of all and risk all. To God is the Glory. Amen.

 

“Blessed are the Stressed” – 11/6/2011

Matthew 5: 1-12

 

Are we frustrated? Overwhelmed? Frantic? Too much clutter? Not enough time? Don't know where to start? Are we ready to streamline our lives? Downsize? Simplify? If so, we may need an expert who can come in and restore order to our living. These experts are called "Certified Professional Organizers." CPO's are trained, certified through a national exam, and must prove every three years that she or he is a serious full time, professional organizer and not just a part time hobbyist.

What will a CPO do for you? He or she will help us get control of our stressful living and working spaces, helping us organize our closets' and kitchen and work spaces. These CPO's will also teach us techniques in stress free living.

So what do you think? Should we call?

How does one live a stress-free life amid urban sprawl, crowding and congestion, gridlock and noise, smog and pollution, global warming, poverty and despair — and boom cars with turbo-charged sub-woofers stashed in the trunk that thump in the traffic,

It's so bad that some subscribe to the hypothesis that our environment pushes us into such stress that we perform acts of rage. For example, in Pennsylvania, John Bereznak shot and killed a young dirt biker who was riding on mounds of coal only 200 yards from his house. After confronting the young man over the course of several years, calling police and appealing to the young man's parents, Bereznak, 70, shot the young man early one morning then went into his house and killed himself. Was it rage?

The noise and stress of urban living, on top of the anti-social, narcissistic and passive-aggressive behavior of its citizens, the worst of whom are — in the opinion of some — knuckle-dragging cretins, have led many communities to adopt innovative approaches to control the noise, including noise abatement barriers, noise pollution statutes and regulations limiting the hours construction crews can be on the job.

But no one has been more creative at tackling the problems of urban stress than Jeff Peckman. He was responsible for putting stress on a municipal ballot in Denver over ten years ago, which — had it passed — would have required the city to "ensure public safety" by utilizing "stress-reducing techniques or programs."

The anti-stress proposal on the Denver ballot was the first of its kind in the nation and at the time attracted attention from media outlets such as USA Today, and national television networks. In the community of Denver the proposal was greeted with consternation by some, hoots and hollers by others and thoughtful consideration by a minority.

With all due respect to CPO's and their profession --- dealing with stress perhaps need not be so stressful. I am not an expert but I wonder if the question "How can I get rid of the stress in my life?" should not be "How can I live in such a way as to experience peace, meaning and fulfillment?"

Just look at the stories of people of faith in the Bible. Some try to fight stress … others try to flee it. Elijah fled from Jezebel and the prophets of Baal in the north for a bush in the desert of the south. Yet, he still wasn't at peace. Then there are the stories of the lives of Christians. St. Augustine of Hippo the philosopher and theologian and convert to Christianity in the late 300's and early 400's fled North Africa and Carthage, a city he called a "boiling cauldron of lust" for Rome, and was equally uncomfortable there.

St. Jerome, who translated the New Testament into Latin, fled Rome for the desert to be free of the temptation of those "dancing girls," only to find that the stress full temptations followed him there, too.

Well, Jesus in the gospel may be suggesting that finding peace is not a question of site; it's a question of sight. It's not a matter of geography; it's a question of spirituality. It's not an issue of location but relationship.

The question Jesus may be asking is: Do we have the vision, do we have the spirit and soul, and do we have the connection with Christ that will ensure a calm-in-the-storm kind of peace? What is known as the Sermon on the Mount may provide us some "in-sight" for peace and calm.

In the Gospel Jesus offers us REST POINTS rather than STRESS POINTS:

Rest Point One: These words are addressed to the very stressed: the poor in spirit, the mourning, the meek, those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, the merciful, and the pure in heart, the peacemakers, the persecuted and those who revile you. In response to the stressed, Jesus is reminding us that it's always helpful to remember who we are. When we are having full time stress with our partner, when we're sitting in rush-hour traffic, when we're coping with the complexities of our job, when we are trying to find good in difficult situations, when we are struggling with illness, when we are trying to find meaning — it's easy to forget who we are.

Blessed is a funny word, a strange word to find comfort. It comes from an old English verb meaning "to consecrate with blood." Therefore whatever is challenging us, the first thing in which we are to find rest and comfort is that we are consecrated in blood through Jesus Christ, set apart. God loves us. That is the basis for our meaning. To us, then, who are saints and faithful, children of God we are blessed.

Rest Point Two: Because we are consecrated, blessed because we are stressed, Jesus gives us help to --- in a sense --- surrender, enabling us to trust that we can always fall back into the hands of God, like crashing — exhausted — into the depths of an overstuffed chair. Because we are blessed, we can trust in God for… everything. I don't know about you but the realization that we can trust in God goes a long way on the road to peace, grace and stress-less living.

Rest Point Three: Come what may, as the writer of Revelation reminds us, "They will hunger no more, and thirst no more." (7:16) As beloved, as blessed, Jesus assures us that as stressed God's children we have hope because we have the promise that things will change.

In the first letter of John, we hear the promises of hope for us who are in the midst of great "ordeal." "All who have this hope in him purify themselves (3:3)," he writes. The "ordeal" the writers suggests is the pressure on us to renounce our faith. Sometimes the pressure is violent. Sometimes the pressure is subtle.

There's no denying that outside forces continually conspire to afflict us with pressure, temptation, stress and disease. These pressures are enormous. No one would deny that. We live in a warp-speed culture where the foot of the oppressor is too often and too quickly lodged against the neck of the oppressed; a litigious culture where commitments have no more staying power than a Kardashian marriage.

Certainly, we go through cycles of compassion fatigue. We fight for instant upgrades amid a media-centric world of deregulation for the benefit of the powerful and rich. We struggle with politicians hyperventilating, living in an increasingly complex globalized world, troubled by loss of jobs and wardrobe malfunctions — and in the end we may feel as though we're simply rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic. No wonder, then, that often we'd like to pick our poison and crawl into a spider hole and forget the whole thing.

That's why the words of Jesus have resonated far beyond even followers of Jesus Christ. It is always interesting to me that no matter where I have been, when I read the words of the Sermon of the Mount out loud in worship, many listeners close their eyes and it is as if everyone takes a deep breath at the words of Jesus. Perhaps that is one reason why these words are so important for this Sunday.

This is All Saints Sunday, these words from Jesus, are a reminder that the vision of the kingdom creates a community of believers in which the living and dead remain connected because we are tied together in Jesus Christ. In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus speaks the consecrated blessings to the stressed, not only in words, but also in his blood, on all people. Our hearts are restless until we find our rest in God. It is there at rest, whether alive or dead, do we come to peace. It is there in the Kingdom of God that we find peace. Take a deep breath with me and let us find rest. Amen.

“ARD”

A wonderful homily presented by the former presiding Bishop of the ELCA – Herbert Chilstrom. It was forwarded to me by email and I am posting here for some of my blog readers. Enjoy!

 

ELCA Retired Bishops' Gathering

Buffalo, Minnesota

October 24, 2011

"…we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is form God and not from us. Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day." 2 Corinthians 4: 7, 16

 

About a year ago I felt enough discomfort in my back to see my physician. She ordered an X-ray. She called a few days later and rendered this wonderful diagnosis: "Age-related degeneration." I felt like shouting back, "So what else is new!"

I know you all understand. At an event like this the words "Oh my!" go through our minds in the first hours. We meet a couple we haven't seen for some time and think, "Oh my, she hasn't changed a bit in the last four years." Then we look at him and say, "Oh my, what happened to him!" Let's face it – for even the halest among us the story is about the same. We all have an identical diagnosis: "Age-related degeneration." Some jars of clay are less cracked than others. But all are cracked.

In his book "Healthy Aging," Andrew Weil suggests that if possible all older persons should have a pet. First, they make wonderful companions. But there's a more important benefit. As we watch our dog or cat age at a comparatively rapid pace it reminds us of our own mortality.

Our pet is a friendly little tail-wagging Cairn terrier named "Jonah." He joined our family a year after we retired. If he lives that long he'll turn 15 on New Year's Day. He used to jump up on our bed at the crack of dawn to sleep for another hour, cradled among our tangled feet. Now we wake him, even when we sleep late. He's getting white around his eyes and under his chin. If he hears the neighbor's dog barking he just rolls over and keeps on napping.

Do I see myself in Jonah? Oh, yes, it's all too familiar. I got hearing aids three years ago. Corinne, after some gentle encouragement, got hers three months ago. Several days later I said something to her and she didn't respond. So I raised my voice and asked if she remembered to put in her hearing aids. That was a huge mistake. She looked at me and said, "Yes, I have them in. But hearing aids don't help if you don't make sense."

My vision, to take but one more example, has taken a huge dip in the past year. I'm now legally blind. Like Paul, I now say, "See what large letters I use as I write…." (Galatians 6:11) Your faces out there are like blank slates. I miss the gleam in the eye, the smile and, yes, a tear on the cheek. I keep planting them, but I can't enjoy the loveliness of my flower gardens.

Last January my eye specialist said, "Herb, you've dropped below the threshold where it's safe for you t drive." It was sobering to go to the dresser the next morning and, after decades of freedom to go when and where I pleased, leave my car keys laying there.

When I walked Jonah after breakfast that morning I met my crusty neighbor Dennis. He comes from Duluth. In that part of Minnesota, and even more so up on the Iron Range, folks speak plain English. When I told Dennis that I had to stop driving he turned to me and said, "Oh, shit! Oh shit!" I looked back and said, "Thanks, Dennis. That's exactly the expression I was looking for.

The more I reflected on what Dennis said, the more sense it made. Most of the things that happen to us at this stage of life are not the stuff of lament Psalms or of what the theologians call "deus absconditus" – the hidden or absent God. Those are for times in life that make no sense whatever and drive one to wonder why God has abandoned us.

At this stage of life, however, the natural process of aging will bring all kinds of evidence of cracks in our jars of clay. For me it's loss of vision. For most of you it's something else. A few may slip through unscathed. But even they will finally face the BIG D-generation. There's no point in being angry or bitter when things happen that are part of the aging process. That only makes matters worse, both for us and for those who live with us. Without being irreverent, isn't it better at times to use Dennis' expression and just say, "Oh shit!" or, if that's too strong for you, "Oh shucks!" and then get on with life? I think so.  We should, of course, add a prayer that God will help us to be tolerable to live with at these times. Yes, and also a prayer that God will preserve for us a bit of good humor in the midst of it.

That leaves the question: Is that all there is? Is that all there is?

"Sunrise, sunset; swiftly fly the years.

One season following another,

laden with happiness and tears."

Is that all there is?

We who believe have an answer. On the one hand, we say, "Yes, that is all there is. We are in the grip of age-related degeneration." But we also say that there is something else: "Non-age related regeneration."

"We do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day."

We believers have this scandalous, unbelievable, ridiculous idea that we have already died.

"We were buried with (Christ) through baptism into his death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life." (Romans 6:4)

Last Tuesday I marked the day I was born 80 years ago in a small town hospital an hour west of here. At three minutes after midnight I took my first breath. I've been breathing --and degenerating -- ever since.

That's why I look forward to November 29^th. On that day 80 years ago I was baptized. My godparents couldn't make it out to the country for the morning service. The pastor agreed to baptize me at my parents' farm home. My mother placed this cut-glass bowl on the dining room table. She filled it with water from the pump outside the kitchen door, heated on her cook stove.

Gathered round the table were my godparents, my mother and dad, my grandparents, and, with some heads just barely above the table top, my four wide-eyed older sisters, all atwitter over what was about to happen to their new baby brother. Pastor Gottfried Larson took me in his arms, held me over the water and baptized me "In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit." The Spirit will keep regenerating   that faith until I take my last breath.

Whenever and wherever it happened for you, we were all "sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked by the cross of Christ forever."

Some of you may have known Paul Holmer, professor of religion and philosophy at Yale.  I heard him only once. He was a rising young star at the University of Minnesota. He crossed the river one evening to lecture at Augsburg College. It was electrifying. That high forehead of his seemed to burst with brilliance. He was indeed a fine jar of clay, embellished with marks of intelligence.

When he moved to Yale he was a colleague of those other Lutheran luminaries – Sydney Ahlstrom, George Lindbeck and Jeroslav Pelikan. Though I never know him personally I've learned that his was a rather complex personality. On the one hand, he was known to visit bars and get acquainted with men with drinking problems. If they ended up in jail or the state prison he visited them. Some students recall wonderful evenings with Holmer and his wife in their home.

But Holmer also had a dark side. He could not suffer fools, even slightly. He could be intimidating and domineering.

My friend Hal was Holmer's pastor at Bethesda Church in New Haven in those years. Hal tells how Holmer would come to church, sit near the front, and take out a legal pad on which he scribbled notes while Hal preached. Hal was certain the notes had nothing to do with his sermon.

Another friend, Alan, was a student at Yale in those same years. When he arrived on campus he was told Holmer would be his advisor. On the first visit Holmer asked Alan, "Why are you here?" After giving what he thought was a reasonable reply Holmer observed, "Oh, another student who should have settled these questions in confirmation class." The exchange went downhill from there. Alan never returned a second time.

Fast forward to the year 2002 – nine years ago. We had just moved to St. Peter, Minnesota when my friend Bernhard Erling told me that Holmer, now in his 80s, was a resident in one of our local nursing homes. He suggested I visit him. Having heard only of his reputation for being rather irascible, I wondered if I even dared go to see him. But I did. I found a man whose body was completely ruined from Parkinson's disease. That once magnificent jar or clay was now cracked and shattered. Others had to attend to his basic physical needs.

Over the next weeks we had good visits. He enjoyed it when I brought flowers from my gardens. Now I discovered the tender side of Holmer. He appreciated my prayers.

On my final visit before his death I asked Corinne to accompany me. After a good exchange she asked him what this experience was doing to him. He pondered her question for a moment and then, completely choked up with emotion and with tears welling up in his eyes he said quietly, "I'm learning to love God. I'm learning to love God."

In these years when age-related evidence of degeneration is a certainty we have a choice to make.

We can turn bitter.

Or we can learn to love God.

"…we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away; yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day."

Thanks be to God. Amen.

Herbert W. Chilstrom