Proper 14
Preaching
Lectionary Preaching Workbook
Series VI, Cycle C
Object:
COMMENTARY ON THE LESSONS
Lesson 1: Isaiah 1:1, 10-20 (C)
In a word, you can't bribe God. That's the expectation which seems to describe much worship among the ancient world. That, and some superstition thrown in. It's hard, of course, for us to think ourselves back into that ancient world. We can't be sure that many of those people weren't people who genuinely loved God and were simply acting out what they had been taught, as a way to say thank you. But there were also many who were probably grudging in their giving, hoping to placate God since they generally believed that God handed out bad luck for people who didn't stay in line. In any event, Isaiah's vision revealed to him that what God wants from a loyal worshiper is not sacrifice of animals or material things. The sacrifice God wants is the risk and the expense of doing good, seeking justice, correcting oppression, defending unfortunate children, and caring for women (and probably today, all the troubled people) in need.
Lesson 1: Wisdom 18:6-9 (RC)
Lesson 1: Genesis 15:1-6 (E)
Abram, soon to be Abraham, is called to father a great race of people.
Lesson 2: Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16 (C); Hebrews 11:1-2, 8-19 (RC); Hebrews 11:1-3 (4-7) 8-16 (E)
Faith. By that a very old man stepped out and achieved a marvelous life. By faith, we can step forth and achieve a marvelous life as well. Abraham had a lot going against him. But he stepped out. There are really at least two important elements here. One is Abraham's openness to God's leading. The other is Abraham's own courage in his willingness to act upon the promptings of faith, and to run the risks which faith so often calls us to face. Granted, God called Abraham to a great work. But Abraham had to do that work. He had to face the rigors of the day, the sleeplessness which almost surely plagued him as it does anyone who goes out ahead of the crowd to try something eminently worth doing, yet fraught with the possibility of failure and defeat.
A pastor of a very large and prestigious church once agreed to attend a church growth seminar at Robert Schuler's Crystal Cathedral in California. Frankly, he didn't care for Schuler. He didn't like the showy service, the fountains, and the roll-back walls. He didn't like the smiling close-ups. He just didn't like it at all. He decided Dr. Schuler must be something of a charlatan to pull off something like that. Ah, but when he returned, his attitude had changed. He had heard how the man went out there with no one to support him; how he had gone to other churches for encouragement and received rejection; how he had rented an outdoor movie theater and preached to whoever would show up. He heard how Schuler had, slowly at first, built a support system and by sheer power of personality (at the human level) had built this remarkable church. And my friend said that anyone who had the faith and the sheer guts to do what that man did is no charlatan. He's a man of towering faith.
My point is not to evaluate Dr. Schuler one way or another. But we preachers, whatever we may think of that style of ministry, have to applaud the faithful stepping-out of a man who did what that man did. So, our calling is not the same. But each of us has a calling of some kind or other. A clergy friend of mine approached the owners of a dinner theater in Indianapolis. She had the completely unorthodox idea of a church in a totally modern format -- contemporary music, video clips, acted out Scripture passages, completely relaxed dress code -- and who would have thought it. At last report, her attendance is about 600 on a Sunday, which is the maximum her "church" can hold. The other day, a man who frankly admitted he had left all organized religion in disgust, said he has found his faith again there. That doesn't mean you and I aren't doing our jobs too, but it means that clergywoman found a niche, a place where God wanted to reach out and her courage and initiative are currently the talk of the church world around here.
Gospel: Luke 12:32-40 (C, E); Luke 12:32-48 (RC)
"The Son of Man is coming at an hour you do not expect." Brace yourself. And it's my experience that this happens, not when we're settled down thoughtfully, but in the heat of the day. (Well, maybe both.) But the thrust of this lesson seems to me to be the warning that we are all going to be called out to a risky, wonderful, breathtaking, wouldn't-have-missed-it-for-the-world adventure. God wants us to experience the high blood flow of great achievement. Not necessarily the kind that wins laurels and public recognition. But we weren't created to sit around and enjoy life without making a significant contribution of one kind or another. Life is too exciting to waste on small undertakings. Every one of us has something to give, some gift which can make the world a better place.
SERMON SUGGESTIONS
Title: "Faith In A Changing World"
Text: Isaiah 1:1, 10-20
Theme: The way we are called to serve God is not with sacrifices, certainly not by slaughtering animals. Certainly not, also, by churchly activities which comfort us that we're doing our duty and which don't really cost us very much. What God wants is for us to do something concrete to make this world better for the unfortunates of the earth. There is so much injustice in the world. So much prejudice, so much crime, so much jealousy, so much abuse of political and economic power. However, a problem I have observed is that many of us clergy spout off about the ills of our society and the solutions we think appropriate, yet we do so without the faintest idea how the power structures of our society work. That's okay to a point. Someone has to call the world to account. But we also need the expertise of sophisticated (in terms of the societal systems of our culture) people -- church members perhaps -- who will step forth and at whatever risk, do something concrete to make this world a better place for the underdog.
Quite a number of years ago, the man who accepted the position of chair of our local commission on Church and Society happened to also be vice president of Methodist Hospital in Indianapolis. It's one of the largest hospitals in America. At that time, there was a great concern about employment for "unemployable Blacks" or, if one prefers, African Americans as we might say today. So, this man who was in charge of employment in that great hospital, and who had taken seriously his charge as a Christian, began a program of employing people who had never held a real job before. True, the jobs were bottom level. But that was all those people were equipped to handle and at least it was a job. As was expected (and predicted by some of the man's critics) there were quite a few problems. Some of the work was unacceptable, and pressure built to get rid of the incompetents. But this man persevered. He refused to change his new policy. And slowly, one by one, people who might never have held a decent job began to get the hang of what they were doing. One by one, a few began to excel. In time, a whole new class of employees had shown that as a group they could do the job. And one man, one Christian man who was willing to put his very fine position on the line, made a difference. That, as I read Isaiah, is what God wants.
Title: "Onward And Upward"
Text: Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16; Luke 12:32-40 (selected verses) (See also next Sunday's epistle text from Hebrews. I would combine this lesson with that one.)
Theme: Nothing ventured nothing gained. How many people there are in this world, people who are endowed with the capability of doing great works, but who are wasting their lives in unproductive and unexciting undertakings simply because they haven't the inner faith -- in God, but also in themselves -- to tackle their dreams. How many people, one must wonder, privately imagine themselves stepping out to great adventures doing daring deeds which could save lives, which could excite others to daring adventure, which could make this world -- and their own lives -- so much better. Yet, when the day is done, they eat their food, drink up their drink and go to bed.
1. Each of us has a mission in life. It's not always easy to know one's mission. Robert Schuler said he knew from his earliest years that he was born to be a pastor. I, on the other hand, was into my thirties before that thought occurred to me. Ergo, God does it differently for each of us. But everyone -- I repeat -- everyone has some mission which is important and meaningful. One elderly lady was bed-ridden, unable to leave her home. So, she began each day with the morning paper. She said she started with the birth announcements, then weddings, finally the obituaries, and prayed for each individual. That must have taken quite a while, but what a grand ministry, given what she was able to do.
2. Sometimes we'll fail. No matter. At least we will have tried. A friend of mine opened a donut shop several years ago. We all tried to talk him out of it but he went ahead. After two years of working twenty hours a day, sleeping in his car so he could be there at dawn, trying everything he could think of to make his business a success, he went bankrupt. When one friend sought to console him, my friend said, in effect: "Hey! Don't feel sorry for me. I had to know. I gave it my best shot. Maybe I failed as the world sees things, but I was never bored, and I'll always know I didn't fail for lack of trying." Remember the old saying: "Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all."
3. God always helps. If my friend failed despite his prayers, then something good came of it. His character grew. His mettle was proven. He was a better man because of it, and he went on to better things. God, though, enables us to do the things which are his will. Our local newspaper showed photographs of a mid-sixties Black woman, a beatific smile on her face, as she received her degree from a university. She had been born into poverty, raised several children of whom she is justifiably proud, and said she always had a dream that she would graduate from college before she died. Bless her wonderful heart, she did just that and the smile on her face revealed a part of her reward.
ADDITIONAL ILLUSTRATIONS
Some children watched a fire engine race by. One asked his friends, "Why do they have that dog with them?" Sure enough, a black and white Dalmatian dog was riding next to the driver. One child speculated that the dog's job was to keep crowds back at a fire. Another suggested that the dog's job was to "bring good luck." However, a third little child had the best idea. "I think," he said, "the dog helps them find the fire hydrant."
____________
I Never Learned To Dance
Today, as I ate in a restaurant, I watched a young father bring his two little girls in for ice cream. The younger one, aged around three, was facing me. In the background a jazzy number from Beverly Hills Cop began to play. The child began to dance, first with her shining eyes, then with her shoulders, as she swayed and shrugged to the beat. Her tiny arms waved out at her sides, and on her face was a smile of sheer, unbridled joy. Surely Wordsworth was right when he wrote that "heaven lies about us in our infancy." I could only think of Jesus' injunction that we are to become as little children if we are best to know the spiritual presence.
I envied that little girl. If only I had learned to dance. If only I could sway with the music, and laugh with the eternal spheres, and feel the joy, and show it on my face like that of a heaven-touched child. But I never learned to dance. Oh, I don't mean dance-dance. I mean dance. I never learned to pirouette with the strains of my own song. I never let my melodies ring from the rafters of my life. I never learned to step beyond my inhibitions, to be the person I know, now too late, God told me I might become. I often feel like Eliot's J. Alfred Prufrock: Can I wear my trousers rolled? Do I dare to eat a peach? Can I walk along a beach?
Something else from Wordsworth's pen seems sad to me: "The things which I have seen I now can see no more ... I know, wher'er I go, That there hath passed away a glory from the earth." Did I once know how to dance? Is it possible that once, long ago, before I became an old man, before my youth, I saw heaven shining in my path, and I too swayed with the music, and laughed to the joy of the eternal? If so, what happened to me? Must it happen to that tiny girl in the restaurant? Do we make decisions we didn't need to make, fall prey to fears we could have faced; did we choose by some misdirected wisdom to let our heaven slip away. Did I, do people, does nearly everyone at some point, maybe without fully knowing, choose not to dance?
Oh God, I grieve for what I either lost or never had. I do not know. I only know I cannot dance. I go about with quiet countenance, solemn, responsible, buttoned down, eminently respected. In my fantasies I dance. But I would look ridiculous if anyone saw. No, to dance would require me to bathe my beloved with warm kisses and compliments, with constant appreciation and words which tell. I would tell her how my life, all its current happiness, was her gift to me. And I would hug my child and whisper how much I have loved her from the moment of her being, through her tender growing, to the very moment of her own motherhood. I would tell her that I have yearned, through all the years, to let her know of my utter pride in her achievements, in her self-possession. Fortunately, and I take no credit for it, she has learned to dance.
Is there possibly another chance? Is there a place, not here, where we old stick-in-the-mud non-dancers can try again? Can we, by some miracle of love, strip away the wary suspicions born of injury and rejection and embarrassment -- the lost self-esteem, the fears of failure -- and start to move with the eternal beat of heaven's song? Lord, I never learned to dance, or else I lost the gift. I do pray this: that somewhere, sometime, freed at last from my loveless self, I might dance like a three-year-old, might pirouette and skip and shake to the music, might say to the ones I love, "I love you. Oh, how I love you. Oh, how you have blessed my life. Oh, how I grieve for my failure to be everything you once thought I might be. Oh, how I would try so very hard if I could try again, if I could learn to dance." But I have never learned to dance. I shall never know the peace of having danced to the song of life. Peace, if ever it shall come, will come to me by way of forgiveness. Then perhaps I shall dance.
____________
"But the great men of history, when their lives are more fully known, frequently turn out to be extraordinary, not only at the point of their achievements, but also in the psychosocial developments that led to those achievements. For one thing, a longer and often more turbulent gestation period is required it seems, for such men to 'find themselves' and their true vocations. That Jesus spent his third decade in obscurity, working as a tradesman, is thus only what might be expected of someone who was destined to make an epochal contribution to humanity. During this same time in life, Luther was in a monastery, Freud was engaged in tedious anatomical research on eels, Darwin was on a five-year stint of botanical and biological investigation on board the Beagle, and Erickson himself (who more than anyone else has called these phenomena to our attention) was aimlessly wandering about Europe as a bohemian artist.
"In each instance, 'this moratorium' as Erickson has termed it, quite obviously served as an apprenticeship (or a trial run on being an adult in Levinson's terms) during which competencies were acquired that, in retrospect, were vital to the later achievement.
"... Even more important in the psycho histories of the greatest of the great are the inner struggles that typically preoccupy them during their 'hidden years' -- struggles that often turn out to have been related somehow to the most urgent psychological needs of their age."
-- Professor John W. Miller, in Jesus At Thirty
____________
In the movie Schindler's List, I picked up this line: "Who saves one life saves the entire world."
____________
In C. E. Montague's novel, Rough Justice, a boy says to his father: "I fancy I do believe in a kind of God, in a sort of way, just now and then anyhow. I get a feeling that something inside me, around me, is putting it to me straight that something has got to be done, for no other reason than that this power or spirit, or whatever it is, makes me feel that it is the only thing in the whole world that is really worth doing -- and then the thing seems perfectly easy to do, however scaring and hard it might have seemed at any other time." And the father answered his son: "That's God all right."
____________
Henry David Thoreau, at Walden, wrote: "Persona 1: What are men celebrating? They are all on a committee of arrangement and hourly expect a speech from somebody. Everybody is anxious to belong. Why should we be in such desperate haste to succeed, and in such desperate enterprises? If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away."
____________
A popular song from the past, "Swinging On A Star," has a message for us all. It goes like this:
A mule is an animal with long funny ears,
He picks up at everything he hears.
His back is brawny but his brain is weak,
He's just plain stupid with a stubborn streak.
So if you don't want to grow up like a mule,
Well, then, you'd better go to school.
For all the monkeys aren't in the zoo.
Every day you meet quite a few.
So you see, it's all up to you;
You could be better than you are.
You could be swinging on a star.
____________
Psalm Of The Day
Psalm 50:1-8, 22-23 -- "Gather to me my faithful ones...."
Prayer Of The Day
Show us the way, O God. Arm us with courage for the fray. Fill us with wisdom, that we may do what's right. Touch our hearts with compassion, that in our zeal to reach some worthy, distant goal, we may not cause injury to any other person. In Jesus' name we pray. Amen.
Lesson 1: Isaiah 1:1, 10-20 (C)
In a word, you can't bribe God. That's the expectation which seems to describe much worship among the ancient world. That, and some superstition thrown in. It's hard, of course, for us to think ourselves back into that ancient world. We can't be sure that many of those people weren't people who genuinely loved God and were simply acting out what they had been taught, as a way to say thank you. But there were also many who were probably grudging in their giving, hoping to placate God since they generally believed that God handed out bad luck for people who didn't stay in line. In any event, Isaiah's vision revealed to him that what God wants from a loyal worshiper is not sacrifice of animals or material things. The sacrifice God wants is the risk and the expense of doing good, seeking justice, correcting oppression, defending unfortunate children, and caring for women (and probably today, all the troubled people) in need.
Lesson 1: Wisdom 18:6-9 (RC)
Lesson 1: Genesis 15:1-6 (E)
Abram, soon to be Abraham, is called to father a great race of people.
Lesson 2: Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16 (C); Hebrews 11:1-2, 8-19 (RC); Hebrews 11:1-3 (4-7) 8-16 (E)
Faith. By that a very old man stepped out and achieved a marvelous life. By faith, we can step forth and achieve a marvelous life as well. Abraham had a lot going against him. But he stepped out. There are really at least two important elements here. One is Abraham's openness to God's leading. The other is Abraham's own courage in his willingness to act upon the promptings of faith, and to run the risks which faith so often calls us to face. Granted, God called Abraham to a great work. But Abraham had to do that work. He had to face the rigors of the day, the sleeplessness which almost surely plagued him as it does anyone who goes out ahead of the crowd to try something eminently worth doing, yet fraught with the possibility of failure and defeat.
A pastor of a very large and prestigious church once agreed to attend a church growth seminar at Robert Schuler's Crystal Cathedral in California. Frankly, he didn't care for Schuler. He didn't like the showy service, the fountains, and the roll-back walls. He didn't like the smiling close-ups. He just didn't like it at all. He decided Dr. Schuler must be something of a charlatan to pull off something like that. Ah, but when he returned, his attitude had changed. He had heard how the man went out there with no one to support him; how he had gone to other churches for encouragement and received rejection; how he had rented an outdoor movie theater and preached to whoever would show up. He heard how Schuler had, slowly at first, built a support system and by sheer power of personality (at the human level) had built this remarkable church. And my friend said that anyone who had the faith and the sheer guts to do what that man did is no charlatan. He's a man of towering faith.
My point is not to evaluate Dr. Schuler one way or another. But we preachers, whatever we may think of that style of ministry, have to applaud the faithful stepping-out of a man who did what that man did. So, our calling is not the same. But each of us has a calling of some kind or other. A clergy friend of mine approached the owners of a dinner theater in Indianapolis. She had the completely unorthodox idea of a church in a totally modern format -- contemporary music, video clips, acted out Scripture passages, completely relaxed dress code -- and who would have thought it. At last report, her attendance is about 600 on a Sunday, which is the maximum her "church" can hold. The other day, a man who frankly admitted he had left all organized religion in disgust, said he has found his faith again there. That doesn't mean you and I aren't doing our jobs too, but it means that clergywoman found a niche, a place where God wanted to reach out and her courage and initiative are currently the talk of the church world around here.
Gospel: Luke 12:32-40 (C, E); Luke 12:32-48 (RC)
"The Son of Man is coming at an hour you do not expect." Brace yourself. And it's my experience that this happens, not when we're settled down thoughtfully, but in the heat of the day. (Well, maybe both.) But the thrust of this lesson seems to me to be the warning that we are all going to be called out to a risky, wonderful, breathtaking, wouldn't-have-missed-it-for-the-world adventure. God wants us to experience the high blood flow of great achievement. Not necessarily the kind that wins laurels and public recognition. But we weren't created to sit around and enjoy life without making a significant contribution of one kind or another. Life is too exciting to waste on small undertakings. Every one of us has something to give, some gift which can make the world a better place.
SERMON SUGGESTIONS
Title: "Faith In A Changing World"
Text: Isaiah 1:1, 10-20
Theme: The way we are called to serve God is not with sacrifices, certainly not by slaughtering animals. Certainly not, also, by churchly activities which comfort us that we're doing our duty and which don't really cost us very much. What God wants is for us to do something concrete to make this world better for the unfortunates of the earth. There is so much injustice in the world. So much prejudice, so much crime, so much jealousy, so much abuse of political and economic power. However, a problem I have observed is that many of us clergy spout off about the ills of our society and the solutions we think appropriate, yet we do so without the faintest idea how the power structures of our society work. That's okay to a point. Someone has to call the world to account. But we also need the expertise of sophisticated (in terms of the societal systems of our culture) people -- church members perhaps -- who will step forth and at whatever risk, do something concrete to make this world a better place for the underdog.
Quite a number of years ago, the man who accepted the position of chair of our local commission on Church and Society happened to also be vice president of Methodist Hospital in Indianapolis. It's one of the largest hospitals in America. At that time, there was a great concern about employment for "unemployable Blacks" or, if one prefers, African Americans as we might say today. So, this man who was in charge of employment in that great hospital, and who had taken seriously his charge as a Christian, began a program of employing people who had never held a real job before. True, the jobs were bottom level. But that was all those people were equipped to handle and at least it was a job. As was expected (and predicted by some of the man's critics) there were quite a few problems. Some of the work was unacceptable, and pressure built to get rid of the incompetents. But this man persevered. He refused to change his new policy. And slowly, one by one, people who might never have held a decent job began to get the hang of what they were doing. One by one, a few began to excel. In time, a whole new class of employees had shown that as a group they could do the job. And one man, one Christian man who was willing to put his very fine position on the line, made a difference. That, as I read Isaiah, is what God wants.
Title: "Onward And Upward"
Text: Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16; Luke 12:32-40 (selected verses) (See also next Sunday's epistle text from Hebrews. I would combine this lesson with that one.)
Theme: Nothing ventured nothing gained. How many people there are in this world, people who are endowed with the capability of doing great works, but who are wasting their lives in unproductive and unexciting undertakings simply because they haven't the inner faith -- in God, but also in themselves -- to tackle their dreams. How many people, one must wonder, privately imagine themselves stepping out to great adventures doing daring deeds which could save lives, which could excite others to daring adventure, which could make this world -- and their own lives -- so much better. Yet, when the day is done, they eat their food, drink up their drink and go to bed.
1. Each of us has a mission in life. It's not always easy to know one's mission. Robert Schuler said he knew from his earliest years that he was born to be a pastor. I, on the other hand, was into my thirties before that thought occurred to me. Ergo, God does it differently for each of us. But everyone -- I repeat -- everyone has some mission which is important and meaningful. One elderly lady was bed-ridden, unable to leave her home. So, she began each day with the morning paper. She said she started with the birth announcements, then weddings, finally the obituaries, and prayed for each individual. That must have taken quite a while, but what a grand ministry, given what she was able to do.
2. Sometimes we'll fail. No matter. At least we will have tried. A friend of mine opened a donut shop several years ago. We all tried to talk him out of it but he went ahead. After two years of working twenty hours a day, sleeping in his car so he could be there at dawn, trying everything he could think of to make his business a success, he went bankrupt. When one friend sought to console him, my friend said, in effect: "Hey! Don't feel sorry for me. I had to know. I gave it my best shot. Maybe I failed as the world sees things, but I was never bored, and I'll always know I didn't fail for lack of trying." Remember the old saying: "Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all."
3. God always helps. If my friend failed despite his prayers, then something good came of it. His character grew. His mettle was proven. He was a better man because of it, and he went on to better things. God, though, enables us to do the things which are his will. Our local newspaper showed photographs of a mid-sixties Black woman, a beatific smile on her face, as she received her degree from a university. She had been born into poverty, raised several children of whom she is justifiably proud, and said she always had a dream that she would graduate from college before she died. Bless her wonderful heart, she did just that and the smile on her face revealed a part of her reward.
ADDITIONAL ILLUSTRATIONS
Some children watched a fire engine race by. One asked his friends, "Why do they have that dog with them?" Sure enough, a black and white Dalmatian dog was riding next to the driver. One child speculated that the dog's job was to keep crowds back at a fire. Another suggested that the dog's job was to "bring good luck." However, a third little child had the best idea. "I think," he said, "the dog helps them find the fire hydrant."
____________
I Never Learned To Dance
Today, as I ate in a restaurant, I watched a young father bring his two little girls in for ice cream. The younger one, aged around three, was facing me. In the background a jazzy number from Beverly Hills Cop began to play. The child began to dance, first with her shining eyes, then with her shoulders, as she swayed and shrugged to the beat. Her tiny arms waved out at her sides, and on her face was a smile of sheer, unbridled joy. Surely Wordsworth was right when he wrote that "heaven lies about us in our infancy." I could only think of Jesus' injunction that we are to become as little children if we are best to know the spiritual presence.
I envied that little girl. If only I had learned to dance. If only I could sway with the music, and laugh with the eternal spheres, and feel the joy, and show it on my face like that of a heaven-touched child. But I never learned to dance. Oh, I don't mean dance-dance. I mean dance. I never learned to pirouette with the strains of my own song. I never let my melodies ring from the rafters of my life. I never learned to step beyond my inhibitions, to be the person I know, now too late, God told me I might become. I often feel like Eliot's J. Alfred Prufrock: Can I wear my trousers rolled? Do I dare to eat a peach? Can I walk along a beach?
Something else from Wordsworth's pen seems sad to me: "The things which I have seen I now can see no more ... I know, wher'er I go, That there hath passed away a glory from the earth." Did I once know how to dance? Is it possible that once, long ago, before I became an old man, before my youth, I saw heaven shining in my path, and I too swayed with the music, and laughed to the joy of the eternal? If so, what happened to me? Must it happen to that tiny girl in the restaurant? Do we make decisions we didn't need to make, fall prey to fears we could have faced; did we choose by some misdirected wisdom to let our heaven slip away. Did I, do people, does nearly everyone at some point, maybe without fully knowing, choose not to dance?
Oh God, I grieve for what I either lost or never had. I do not know. I only know I cannot dance. I go about with quiet countenance, solemn, responsible, buttoned down, eminently respected. In my fantasies I dance. But I would look ridiculous if anyone saw. No, to dance would require me to bathe my beloved with warm kisses and compliments, with constant appreciation and words which tell. I would tell her how my life, all its current happiness, was her gift to me. And I would hug my child and whisper how much I have loved her from the moment of her being, through her tender growing, to the very moment of her own motherhood. I would tell her that I have yearned, through all the years, to let her know of my utter pride in her achievements, in her self-possession. Fortunately, and I take no credit for it, she has learned to dance.
Is there possibly another chance? Is there a place, not here, where we old stick-in-the-mud non-dancers can try again? Can we, by some miracle of love, strip away the wary suspicions born of injury and rejection and embarrassment -- the lost self-esteem, the fears of failure -- and start to move with the eternal beat of heaven's song? Lord, I never learned to dance, or else I lost the gift. I do pray this: that somewhere, sometime, freed at last from my loveless self, I might dance like a three-year-old, might pirouette and skip and shake to the music, might say to the ones I love, "I love you. Oh, how I love you. Oh, how you have blessed my life. Oh, how I grieve for my failure to be everything you once thought I might be. Oh, how I would try so very hard if I could try again, if I could learn to dance." But I have never learned to dance. I shall never know the peace of having danced to the song of life. Peace, if ever it shall come, will come to me by way of forgiveness. Then perhaps I shall dance.
____________
"But the great men of history, when their lives are more fully known, frequently turn out to be extraordinary, not only at the point of their achievements, but also in the psychosocial developments that led to those achievements. For one thing, a longer and often more turbulent gestation period is required it seems, for such men to 'find themselves' and their true vocations. That Jesus spent his third decade in obscurity, working as a tradesman, is thus only what might be expected of someone who was destined to make an epochal contribution to humanity. During this same time in life, Luther was in a monastery, Freud was engaged in tedious anatomical research on eels, Darwin was on a five-year stint of botanical and biological investigation on board the Beagle, and Erickson himself (who more than anyone else has called these phenomena to our attention) was aimlessly wandering about Europe as a bohemian artist.
"In each instance, 'this moratorium' as Erickson has termed it, quite obviously served as an apprenticeship (or a trial run on being an adult in Levinson's terms) during which competencies were acquired that, in retrospect, were vital to the later achievement.
"... Even more important in the psycho histories of the greatest of the great are the inner struggles that typically preoccupy them during their 'hidden years' -- struggles that often turn out to have been related somehow to the most urgent psychological needs of their age."
-- Professor John W. Miller, in Jesus At Thirty
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In the movie Schindler's List, I picked up this line: "Who saves one life saves the entire world."
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In C. E. Montague's novel, Rough Justice, a boy says to his father: "I fancy I do believe in a kind of God, in a sort of way, just now and then anyhow. I get a feeling that something inside me, around me, is putting it to me straight that something has got to be done, for no other reason than that this power or spirit, or whatever it is, makes me feel that it is the only thing in the whole world that is really worth doing -- and then the thing seems perfectly easy to do, however scaring and hard it might have seemed at any other time." And the father answered his son: "That's God all right."
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Henry David Thoreau, at Walden, wrote: "Persona 1: What are men celebrating? They are all on a committee of arrangement and hourly expect a speech from somebody. Everybody is anxious to belong. Why should we be in such desperate haste to succeed, and in such desperate enterprises? If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away."
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A popular song from the past, "Swinging On A Star," has a message for us all. It goes like this:
A mule is an animal with long funny ears,
He picks up at everything he hears.
His back is brawny but his brain is weak,
He's just plain stupid with a stubborn streak.
So if you don't want to grow up like a mule,
Well, then, you'd better go to school.
For all the monkeys aren't in the zoo.
Every day you meet quite a few.
So you see, it's all up to you;
You could be better than you are.
You could be swinging on a star.
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Psalm Of The Day
Psalm 50:1-8, 22-23 -- "Gather to me my faithful ones...."
Prayer Of The Day
Show us the way, O God. Arm us with courage for the fray. Fill us with wisdom, that we may do what's right. Touch our hearts with compassion, that in our zeal to reach some worthy, distant goal, we may not cause injury to any other person. In Jesus' name we pray. Amen.
