Fast Food
Stories
Contents
“Fast Food” by C. David McKirachan
“Finding the Answer” by C. David McKirachan
“Life, The Universe, and the Number 42” by Frank Ramirez
Fast Food
by C. David McKirachan
Exodus 12:1-4 (5-10) 11-14
A good amount of my ministry was spent working with youth. It taught me a lot of things about how to handle situations that seemed to be disasters or disasters in the making. It also schooled me in tolerance and humility. Kids will do that to you.
Mission projects were part and parcel to how we’d run this circus. It gave the kids a sense of ministry and mission that went way beyond anything they’d had, being raised in the sheltered environment of suburban childhood. They saw poverty and need they had never dreamed of, and they saw what a difference they could make if they put their backs to it. It also taught them about community with all its prices and benefits. And then there was this weird thing called faith they encountered, head on. Things like prayer, opening up to each other, sharing doubts, sharing joy, worship design grounded in their daily experience all tangled up with scripture. They’d come home ready to talk about things they never considered before. They’d blow adults’ minds, dragging their parents and the rest of the church to places these normal comfortable Christians had never considered.
The logistical issues were daunting. We’d get as many as forty teenagers, with a dozen adults to ride herd and provide infrastructural support. Big bunch. We’d take a caravan of cars on trips that often lasted a couple days. Feeding kids at the mission site was handled by a crew. We cooked for ourselves. But dealing with food on the road wasn’t easy. We’d scope out stops that offered choices. Each of them got an allowance and they were set free to find their own victuals, the only rule was two by two. Adults would populate each of the options.
But before we separated from the group, we’d gather in the parking lot, hold hands, count off (each kid had a number from the prayer circle when we originally departed from the church), and pray. When we got back together at the appointed time, we’d hold hands again, count off again, and pray again. The routine accomplished a few things, all at the same time. It became our MO.
One year when they were leading worship back in our home town, one of the kids spoke about meals on the road. She said that the first time she did it she felt self-conscious, a permanent state for teenagers. But then she got used to it and realized that it was more important than she thought it was. She realized it was important for the whole group to have a sense of being the group, no one left out. It was important that everyone was bonded together, held together. It was important that there was prayer right there in the middle of what they were doing, no matter where that was. And it was important that other people got to see us, being the Body of Christ (she actually said that) in the world, doing his work, caring about each other and those in need. She said it made such a difference to her that she wanted to recommend to the leaders of the youth group, she turned around and looked at me, that the group from now on would do it at the beginning of every meeting, at the end of every meeting and anytime it seemed like it was needed. We already did the hold hands and pray thing, but she wanted the numbers added. Then she said, “I make such a motion, is there a second?” One of her compatriots said, “Second.” The speaker asked, “All in favor say Whoopie doo!” They set it up. It worked. That day the kids made the congregation hold hands before the benediction. It took a while.
The Exodus experience was huge, an overturning of the status quo of a mighty empire. A bunch of slaves pulled it off. What they were given to remember it was a meal, prepared in such a way that it would remind them one and all, rich or poor, that they were part of that liberating moment. It was their heritage. And at the center of it wasn’t a great military leader, the one at the front of the parade. At its center was the faith that took them to places they had never dreamed of going, places that their chains had always kept them from, places where the dream of freedom became more than a fantasy. A meal. Made in such a way to remember that their ancestors had been in a hurry. They were leaving slavery behind and with little but each other and that faith they were setting out to a new life.
That’s what we do when we gather at the table, set before time began.
We do this remembering Him.
And we don’t need to count off. But maybe we should hold hands.
* * *
Finding the Answer
by C. David McKirachan
Psalm 116:1-2, 12-19
I was attending a meeting of the Rotary club. It was interesting going to these get-togethers and engaging people on a different turf. I was attending a breakfast meeting. The program was a lot less interesting than the old guy I was sitting beside. A veteran of the European theatre, he came home and built a family while he went to college, taught biology at a local high school, had a good sense of humor. He told me his students really didn’t need much teaching about biology, they knew a lot more than he had at their age. Damn fools, no matter how much they knew, just like he had been. It was obvious he enjoyed what he’d done and been and become. He talked about his wife and his home and his grandkids. He was a rich man. Then he said something I’ll always remember.
“You’re a good listener. The best conversations you’ll ever have, the ones you’ll remember the most are with somebody who’s interested in what you have to say, who cares about it, values it. I’ll remember this conversation because you listened to me.”
I had just begun working in a suburban church. It was a bit of culture shock. I’d been in the inner city for five years. There, survival was clearly a noble endeavor. There were few with whom I could share insights, few with whom I could discuss much of anything. They were busy surviving. My seminary education, my master’s degree in Metaphysical Philosophy gave me few tools or insights in that environment. I listened because the priorities that I knew about, theological, philosophical, musical, cultural, political, interpersonal meant very little to the people I ran into. They were busy surviving. I had a lot to learn. So I listened. I listened to their stories and their needs.
Then I moved to the suburbs. Jump shift. I assumed I would have to impress these folks. I would have to prove to them that I knew a lot of stuff. But I guess I’d gotten into the habit of listening. Sitting in my office with somebody pouring out their frustrations and their fears, I felt like I didn’t have the resources to solve their problems. But then they’d ask to come and see me again because they really felt like I knew what I was talking about… Okay…
Then this guy says this to me.
The Psalmist says “I love the Lord because he heard me… Because he inclined his ear to me…”
Listening isn’t just being quiet while someone talks. It’s being an active presence, being really there. As the rotary guy said, “…cares about (what’s being said)…, values (it).” I’ve heard a lot of men say that they fake listening to their wives. Guys, the wives know because most women have to put up with men droning on about things that are numbingly uninteresting. We can tell when someone’s not listening and we know when someone’s listening to us. It’s a wonderfully valuing experience. It makes us feel valuable.
I worked on a hot line for suicide prevention and in the training we were taught that one of the main reasons people get out on an edge is because they feel alone. If they can find someone to listen to them, things can change. They don’t need answers, they need to be heard. It didn’t always work, but it was a place to begin.
Anyway, I started paying more attention to the art of listening, intentionally. I found questions, good questions to be helpful and in meetings to be more valuable than agendas and answers. I remembered my father telling me that questions were the gateway to wisdom. So why was I so worried about coming up with answers?
It also changed my prayer life. I realized that instead of giving a list of concerns to God, I’d hold a running conversation with the dude. I’d talk about my day, my issues, my concerns. And invariably answers showed up like nuggets in the pan. Almost always they involved me stepping up and getting moving, confronting, getting in touch, engaging. But they were answers that had been buried in the detritus of the situation and my entanglements and anxieties. And then there were the pithy questions that goaded me, pushed me to dig, to rummage around in the attics and basements of my living, considering. He inclined his ear to me.
Wow. This works. No wonder God does it.
So, listen …
* * *
Life, The Universe, and the Number 42
by Frank Ramirez
John 13:1-17, 31b-35
I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. (John 13:34)
As everyone knows who has read “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy” the answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything is 42.
The five volumes of the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy Trilogy were written by Douglas Adams. (A sixth book in the trilogy was published posthumously). In the aforementioned first novel (spoiler alert!) Earth is destroyed by the Vogons to make room for an Intergalactic Bypass, but one human, Arthur Dent, is saved because his friend Ford Prefect who turned out to be a space alien doing research on Earth for the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.
As the two travel through the Galaxy they learn that one interstellar civilization poured all its resources into creating a computer that could figure out the answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything. After millions of years the computer spewed out the answer -- 42. No one knew what it meant because, unfortunately, no one had bothered to ask the computer to figure out the question that went with the answer.
Nevertheless, 42 is considered by fans of the series to be an especially important number.
Now it’s just a guess, but perhaps the real significance of 42 can be found in the Laws of Cricket. For those who don’t know, baseball evolved from Cricket, a sport that Douglas Adams referred to many times in the five books of the trilogy. It can take days to play. People bat for hours. There is no foul territory so they can hit the ball just about anywhere and run back and forth between the two bases, and since the ball is made out of wood and there are no gloves, it’s just about impossible to get anybody out.
It’s a popular sport in places like England, Australia, India, and Pakistan. In other places it’s considered to be about as exciting as watching paint dry.
Cricket does not have rules -- it has laws. And the Laws of Cricket are very precise with regards to any number of matters. The final law is numbered 42.
Anyway, Cricket Law number 42 is the key. It is subtitled Fair and Unfair Play, and begins “The responsibility lies with the captains for ensuring that play is conducted within the spirit and traditions of the game, as described in The Preamble -- The Spirit of Cricket, as well as within the Laws.”
In other words, play fair.
Law 42 says you’re not allowed to distract or obstruct other players, mess with the condition of the ball, play in a dangerous manner, waste time, damage the field, or otherwise act against the “Spirit of Cricket.”
Should someone fail to play fair the umpires are to first inform the captain of the team of a player’s infraction, and then “warn him of the gravity of the offence and tell him it will be reported to higher authority.”
People have known for centuries that life is easier if you must play fair. Hillel (110 BC-10 AD) understood this. He was one of the ancient experts in Jewish law. Many biblical scholars of the day discerned 635 separate commandments in scripture. It is said that Hillel was once asked sarcastically by a Roman if he could recite the entirety of the Law while standing on one leg. Hillel stood on one leg and said, “Do not do unto others what you would not have them do to you. That is the essence of the Law. Everything else is just commentary.” That sounds like playing fair!
Jesus, a couple of decades later, made it even clearer by telling his disciples he was giving them a new commandment by which they would be known -- that they love one another. Now if only everyone did as Jesus said, if we only loved each other, we’d be well on the way to playing fair, and demonstrating the answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything.
*****************************************
StoryShare, March 29, 2018, issue.
Copyright 2018 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 5450 N. Dixie Highway, Lima, Ohio 45807.
“Fast Food” by C. David McKirachan
“Finding the Answer” by C. David McKirachan
“Life, The Universe, and the Number 42” by Frank Ramirez
Fast Food
by C. David McKirachan
Exodus 12:1-4 (5-10) 11-14
A good amount of my ministry was spent working with youth. It taught me a lot of things about how to handle situations that seemed to be disasters or disasters in the making. It also schooled me in tolerance and humility. Kids will do that to you.
Mission projects were part and parcel to how we’d run this circus. It gave the kids a sense of ministry and mission that went way beyond anything they’d had, being raised in the sheltered environment of suburban childhood. They saw poverty and need they had never dreamed of, and they saw what a difference they could make if they put their backs to it. It also taught them about community with all its prices and benefits. And then there was this weird thing called faith they encountered, head on. Things like prayer, opening up to each other, sharing doubts, sharing joy, worship design grounded in their daily experience all tangled up with scripture. They’d come home ready to talk about things they never considered before. They’d blow adults’ minds, dragging their parents and the rest of the church to places these normal comfortable Christians had never considered.
The logistical issues were daunting. We’d get as many as forty teenagers, with a dozen adults to ride herd and provide infrastructural support. Big bunch. We’d take a caravan of cars on trips that often lasted a couple days. Feeding kids at the mission site was handled by a crew. We cooked for ourselves. But dealing with food on the road wasn’t easy. We’d scope out stops that offered choices. Each of them got an allowance and they were set free to find their own victuals, the only rule was two by two. Adults would populate each of the options.
But before we separated from the group, we’d gather in the parking lot, hold hands, count off (each kid had a number from the prayer circle when we originally departed from the church), and pray. When we got back together at the appointed time, we’d hold hands again, count off again, and pray again. The routine accomplished a few things, all at the same time. It became our MO.
One year when they were leading worship back in our home town, one of the kids spoke about meals on the road. She said that the first time she did it she felt self-conscious, a permanent state for teenagers. But then she got used to it and realized that it was more important than she thought it was. She realized it was important for the whole group to have a sense of being the group, no one left out. It was important that everyone was bonded together, held together. It was important that there was prayer right there in the middle of what they were doing, no matter where that was. And it was important that other people got to see us, being the Body of Christ (she actually said that) in the world, doing his work, caring about each other and those in need. She said it made such a difference to her that she wanted to recommend to the leaders of the youth group, she turned around and looked at me, that the group from now on would do it at the beginning of every meeting, at the end of every meeting and anytime it seemed like it was needed. We already did the hold hands and pray thing, but she wanted the numbers added. Then she said, “I make such a motion, is there a second?” One of her compatriots said, “Second.” The speaker asked, “All in favor say Whoopie doo!” They set it up. It worked. That day the kids made the congregation hold hands before the benediction. It took a while.
The Exodus experience was huge, an overturning of the status quo of a mighty empire. A bunch of slaves pulled it off. What they were given to remember it was a meal, prepared in such a way that it would remind them one and all, rich or poor, that they were part of that liberating moment. It was their heritage. And at the center of it wasn’t a great military leader, the one at the front of the parade. At its center was the faith that took them to places they had never dreamed of going, places that their chains had always kept them from, places where the dream of freedom became more than a fantasy. A meal. Made in such a way to remember that their ancestors had been in a hurry. They were leaving slavery behind and with little but each other and that faith they were setting out to a new life.
That’s what we do when we gather at the table, set before time began.
We do this remembering Him.
And we don’t need to count off. But maybe we should hold hands.
* * *
Finding the Answer
by C. David McKirachan
Psalm 116:1-2, 12-19
I was attending a meeting of the Rotary club. It was interesting going to these get-togethers and engaging people on a different turf. I was attending a breakfast meeting. The program was a lot less interesting than the old guy I was sitting beside. A veteran of the European theatre, he came home and built a family while he went to college, taught biology at a local high school, had a good sense of humor. He told me his students really didn’t need much teaching about biology, they knew a lot more than he had at their age. Damn fools, no matter how much they knew, just like he had been. It was obvious he enjoyed what he’d done and been and become. He talked about his wife and his home and his grandkids. He was a rich man. Then he said something I’ll always remember.
“You’re a good listener. The best conversations you’ll ever have, the ones you’ll remember the most are with somebody who’s interested in what you have to say, who cares about it, values it. I’ll remember this conversation because you listened to me.”
I had just begun working in a suburban church. It was a bit of culture shock. I’d been in the inner city for five years. There, survival was clearly a noble endeavor. There were few with whom I could share insights, few with whom I could discuss much of anything. They were busy surviving. My seminary education, my master’s degree in Metaphysical Philosophy gave me few tools or insights in that environment. I listened because the priorities that I knew about, theological, philosophical, musical, cultural, political, interpersonal meant very little to the people I ran into. They were busy surviving. I had a lot to learn. So I listened. I listened to their stories and their needs.
Then I moved to the suburbs. Jump shift. I assumed I would have to impress these folks. I would have to prove to them that I knew a lot of stuff. But I guess I’d gotten into the habit of listening. Sitting in my office with somebody pouring out their frustrations and their fears, I felt like I didn’t have the resources to solve their problems. But then they’d ask to come and see me again because they really felt like I knew what I was talking about… Okay…
Then this guy says this to me.
The Psalmist says “I love the Lord because he heard me… Because he inclined his ear to me…”
Listening isn’t just being quiet while someone talks. It’s being an active presence, being really there. As the rotary guy said, “…cares about (what’s being said)…, values (it).” I’ve heard a lot of men say that they fake listening to their wives. Guys, the wives know because most women have to put up with men droning on about things that are numbingly uninteresting. We can tell when someone’s not listening and we know when someone’s listening to us. It’s a wonderfully valuing experience. It makes us feel valuable.
I worked on a hot line for suicide prevention and in the training we were taught that one of the main reasons people get out on an edge is because they feel alone. If they can find someone to listen to them, things can change. They don’t need answers, they need to be heard. It didn’t always work, but it was a place to begin.
Anyway, I started paying more attention to the art of listening, intentionally. I found questions, good questions to be helpful and in meetings to be more valuable than agendas and answers. I remembered my father telling me that questions were the gateway to wisdom. So why was I so worried about coming up with answers?
It also changed my prayer life. I realized that instead of giving a list of concerns to God, I’d hold a running conversation with the dude. I’d talk about my day, my issues, my concerns. And invariably answers showed up like nuggets in the pan. Almost always they involved me stepping up and getting moving, confronting, getting in touch, engaging. But they were answers that had been buried in the detritus of the situation and my entanglements and anxieties. And then there were the pithy questions that goaded me, pushed me to dig, to rummage around in the attics and basements of my living, considering. He inclined his ear to me.
Wow. This works. No wonder God does it.
So, listen …
* * *
Life, The Universe, and the Number 42
by Frank Ramirez
John 13:1-17, 31b-35
I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. (John 13:34)
As everyone knows who has read “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy” the answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything is 42.
The five volumes of the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy Trilogy were written by Douglas Adams. (A sixth book in the trilogy was published posthumously). In the aforementioned first novel (spoiler alert!) Earth is destroyed by the Vogons to make room for an Intergalactic Bypass, but one human, Arthur Dent, is saved because his friend Ford Prefect who turned out to be a space alien doing research on Earth for the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.
As the two travel through the Galaxy they learn that one interstellar civilization poured all its resources into creating a computer that could figure out the answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything. After millions of years the computer spewed out the answer -- 42. No one knew what it meant because, unfortunately, no one had bothered to ask the computer to figure out the question that went with the answer.
Nevertheless, 42 is considered by fans of the series to be an especially important number.
Now it’s just a guess, but perhaps the real significance of 42 can be found in the Laws of Cricket. For those who don’t know, baseball evolved from Cricket, a sport that Douglas Adams referred to many times in the five books of the trilogy. It can take days to play. People bat for hours. There is no foul territory so they can hit the ball just about anywhere and run back and forth between the two bases, and since the ball is made out of wood and there are no gloves, it’s just about impossible to get anybody out.
It’s a popular sport in places like England, Australia, India, and Pakistan. In other places it’s considered to be about as exciting as watching paint dry.
Cricket does not have rules -- it has laws. And the Laws of Cricket are very precise with regards to any number of matters. The final law is numbered 42.
Anyway, Cricket Law number 42 is the key. It is subtitled Fair and Unfair Play, and begins “The responsibility lies with the captains for ensuring that play is conducted within the spirit and traditions of the game, as described in The Preamble -- The Spirit of Cricket, as well as within the Laws.”
In other words, play fair.
Law 42 says you’re not allowed to distract or obstruct other players, mess with the condition of the ball, play in a dangerous manner, waste time, damage the field, or otherwise act against the “Spirit of Cricket.”
Should someone fail to play fair the umpires are to first inform the captain of the team of a player’s infraction, and then “warn him of the gravity of the offence and tell him it will be reported to higher authority.”
People have known for centuries that life is easier if you must play fair. Hillel (110 BC-10 AD) understood this. He was one of the ancient experts in Jewish law. Many biblical scholars of the day discerned 635 separate commandments in scripture. It is said that Hillel was once asked sarcastically by a Roman if he could recite the entirety of the Law while standing on one leg. Hillel stood on one leg and said, “Do not do unto others what you would not have them do to you. That is the essence of the Law. Everything else is just commentary.” That sounds like playing fair!
Jesus, a couple of decades later, made it even clearer by telling his disciples he was giving them a new commandment by which they would be known -- that they love one another. Now if only everyone did as Jesus said, if we only loved each other, we’d be well on the way to playing fair, and demonstrating the answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything.
*****************************************
StoryShare, March 29, 2018, issue.
Copyright 2018 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 5450 N. Dixie Highway, Lima, Ohio 45807.
