Rejoice In The Lord
Stories
Contents
What's Up This Week
Good Stories: "Rejoice In The Lord" by Rick McCracken-Bennett
"Turn Around" by Frank Fisher
"Christmas Tears" by Christina Seibel
"The Holy Land Experience" by Timothy F. Merrill
What's Up This Week
Rejoice in the Lord! Sing praises to the Lord. Sing loud and long. The Good News is on its way. With many prayers of thanksgiving for this good news, praise the Lord! The impending birth of the Messiah is wonderful news to everyone. There is no longer any reason to be afraid -- just praise the Lord with a loud voice.
Good Stories
Rejoice In The Lord
By Rick McCracken-Bennett
Rejoice in the Lord always! Again I say, rejoice!
-- Philippians 4:4
There is a story that circulates each year around campfires and spooky storytelling events that goes something like this: "It was a dark and stormy night. We were all gathered around the campfire. Far off and yet very near we could hear sounds in the woods that caused chills to run up and down our spines. Above us an owl hooted her greeting. Then, someone said, Rick, why don't you tell us a story? And Rick began: 'it was a dark and stormy night. We were all gathered around the campfire. Far off and yet very near we could hear sounds in the woods that caused chills to run up and down our spines. Above us an owl hooted her greeting. Then, Rick said, Jerry, why don't you tell us a story? And he began, 'It was a dark and stormy night.' " This would often go on until the storyteller was pelted with s'mores and forced to stop.
It's not unlike the Song That Has No End from Sesame Street. (It goes... on and on my friend.) The kids loved it. They would dance and sing it all day long. Parents... well, the parents didn't love it quite so much.
Or, One Hundred Bottles of Beer on the Wall, that traveling high school marching bands seem compelled to sing every time they get on a bus to go to faraway football games. (I'm convinced we do not pay our school bus drivers anything close to what they're worth.)
Many of us who were around in the late '60s and '70s remember a similar song that we sang on retreats or at less formal worship services. It was fun the first time but got increasingly annoying very shortly. The words went: "Rejoice in the Lord always! Again I say, rejoice!" And then it was repeated... over and over again: "Rejoice in the Lord always! Again I say, rejoice!" It was the song that had no end. On and on it would be sung with only a descant of sorts, sung above the "melody," to break it up. It was, for many of us, our first experience with an "earworm," a tune that gets into your brain early in the day and won't stop no matter what we do. (If you have any doubt just try to get the Jeopardy theme song to stop once it starts playing in your head.) All it takes is hearing someone humming the melody and it's off to the races. Hours and hours of: "Rejoice in the Lord always! Again I say, rejoice!"
And I wonder if that's so bad. Annoying, yes, but not so bad.
Many of us find ourselves humming a catchy melody of a hymn or song that we sang earlier that day in church. It finds its way, in and out and between our other thoughts and concerns. It often comforts, enlightens, or illuminates our way. For those of us who never took too kindly to scripture memorization, this became a way of praying always, of praying twice. We were using a mantra before most of us had ever heard of the word.
It seems that a song like "Rejoice in the Lord always! Again I say rejoice!" functions well (though I wish the melody was a little richer and not sounding so much like a jingle). Perhaps our day's internal dialogue, prayer if you will, would sound something like this:
Man, I don't want to get out of bed and face the boss today.
Rejoice in the Lord always! Again I say rejoice!
I just don't know how we're going to pay for college.
Rejoice in the Lord always! Again I say rejoice!
I can't believe that my cancer might have returned... again!
Rejoice in the Lord always! Again I say rejoice!
By now you might be thinking that I'm a bit daft. Rejoice!? With something like cancer, or the rising cost of college, or bosses that are unreasonable. Saint Paul can't be serious. Rejoice when things are going pretty well, okay, but to ask us to rejoice during the bad times... that is just too much.
Except that he wasn't kidding, he was serious. To rejoice always, not just when things are going peachy-keen, is a way of acknowledging that these are times of grace, too. That God is with us in the good times and in the bad. In good health and in sickness. In prosperity and in adversity. In times of peace and in times of war.
We rejoice because our God is very near. Comforting, healing, soothing, blessing, and guiding.
So if I've done it to you... started an earworm with our little jingle of a song, rejoice anyway, rejoice in the Lord always... again, I say rejoice!
Rick McCracken-Bennett, an Episcopal priest and church planter, is the founding pastor of All Saints Episcopal Church in New Albany, Ohio. Rick began his ministry as a Roman Catholic priest, and he has also served as an alcohol and drug treatment counselor and as the director of an outpatient treatment center for adults and children. McCracken-Bennett has been an avid storyteller for almost 20 years, sharing his stories in churches, libraries, schools, and conferences. He is a member of the National Storytelling Network, the National Organization of Biblical Storytellers, and the Storytellers of Central Ohio. His doctoral thesis, Future Story, explored the use of stories to help bring about change in the church. McCracken-Bennett is a graduate of Findlay College, St. Meinrad School of Theology, and Seabury-Western Theological Seminary.
Turn Around
By Frank Fisher
Luke 3:7-18
"That's what they say this guy John the Baptist's shouting," Nicci told me. Get out there to the wilderness and check him out Rico. He sounds like kind of a strange dude. But there's somethin' about him that tells me we've got to take a look at him.
I just gave Nicci a weird look. It was way too early on a Monday morning. And I couldn't deal with too much intensity yet. "I'm not kidding," Nicci said. "Look at this old book. The one I showed you last week. This old dude named Malachi wrote, 'See, I am sending my messenger to prepare the way before me, and the Lord you seek will suddenly come to his temple. Then the offering of Joliet and New Lenox will be pleasing to the Lord as in the days of old and as in the former years.' "
Nicci slowly put the book down and stared at me for a minute. "This messenger's telling everybody to do something called repent," he said. "We need to find out what repent means. Maybe it's something that'll show us how to stop all the fighting." "The Cobras are killing the Insane Unknowns. And the Kings are wiping out the Regals. We've got to stop this stuff or nobody's going to have any homies left!"
"But Nicci," I said, "this guy's all the way out in New Lenox! That's a long way from Joliet. He's out there in the wilderness. And how am I going to find this guy way out there."
"Just look for a weird looking dude, yelling at people and telling them to do that repent thing," he replied. They say he hangs out by a river." And there'll be a crowd of people 'round him. There can't be too many dudes like that hanging 'round in Will County."
Well I could see Nicci wasn't going to take no for an answer. So I packed my stuff and I started hoofing it toward New Lenox. It wasn't too long until I got to the Des Plaines river. And sure 'nough I found a weird looking dude standing right there beside the river. There was a pretty good crowd of people standing 'round him and listening to what he said.
"This must be the guy," I thought to myself. So I kind of snaked my way through the crowd so I could hear what he was saying. When I got real close I could see he was waving his arms in the air and yelling at the crowd. "Re-evaluate," he told them. Its almost time for us to submit our budgets to Session. Re-evaluate and see what we need to do."
"What's this re-evaluate business," I shouted back. "You're supposed to be telling people to repent. Aren't you John the Baptist." Well this guy just started laughing right out loud. "No, you've got the wrong guy," he said. "I'm his cousin David -- David the Presbyterian. And you're interrupting our annual meeting. You've still got a long way to travel if you want to find John."
So I picked up my backpack and I started walking again. It took me awhile but I finally got into the swing of this hiking stuff. And there were lots of interesting things to see besides the road. There was that big boat besides the Des Plaines river. That was kind of cool. And there were all those open spaces completely filled with these really tall skinny plants. I thought one of those plants might look good in my place. So I asked someone what they were. Then I thought to myself, "I hope what ever this John guy is telling people will help this dude. Everyone knows you find corn in a can, not growing out of the ground."
Anyway, the trip didn't turn out too bad. I found New Lenox. And I found the river. But I couldn't see any strange dudes hanging with crowds. So the first person who came by, I asked her if she'd seen this John the Baptist dude. "Of course," she said, the whole town's talking about him. He's staying at the Buff's Motel. But around this time you'll find him yelling at a crowd over in the K-Mart parking lot." So I started walking again. Then sure enough, there he was in the K-Mart parking lot. And there were a whole lot of people around him. I didn't need to get too close to hear him 'cause he was screaming at the top of his lungs. "I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness: Prepare the way of the Lord, make his path's straight. Every valley shall be filled and every mountain and hill shall be made low, and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways made smooth; and all flesh shall see the salvation of God."
"Okay, now I get it," I thought. "Repent means going on the road crew." So I got through the crowd, and went up to John to volunteer to go to work. "My name's Ricco," I said. I'm ready, "When do we start?"
John looked at me kind of strange. And he walked over like he wanted to get a good look at me. "Have some," he said, and he handed me a take out box. What ever it was smelled pretty good. But I pried the lid open and it was swarming with bugs. "Hey John," I told him, I don't mean to be rude but your dinner's alive. I think the roaches got to it. And while you're at it, you better ditch that fur coat before the PETA people throw red paint on it.
"My camel skin's just fine," John replied. "And locusts and wild honey's good for you. Now what is it you want to start? "The road crew," I replied. "I'm ready to repent, I want to start on the road crew straightening the crooked paths, filling the valleys, smoothing the rough ways, and lowering the mountains. I'm all ready to go. But I got to tell you, this is Illinois. And you're going to have a hard time finding any mountains and hills 'round here."
John looked at me, like I was from Mars or something. "I don't think you quite get it," he said. "Repentance doesn't have anything to do with road building. There's a King coming. And when there's a King coming you straighten things out before the King gets here. It's like when your girlfriend comes over. You don't want her to see the mess you live in. So you hurry up and clean the floor, take out the trash, and do the sink full of dirty dishes so she won't think you're a total pig."
"I get it now," I shouted. "I'll go back and tell my bud Nicci repent means to keep things clean. And when we get things cleaned up then all the homies will stop fighting each other. Thanks John, I was getting kind of tired of going to my bud's funerals."
Then I picked up my backpack, and I started back through the crowd. I had to hurry to let Nicci know this great news. But I hadn't gone ten feet before John shouted out, "Ricco! Stop! You're going the wrong way!" "Ok," I thought, "maybe I forgot the way back toward Joliet." So I turned around to walk back the other way. And this time, I didn't get five feet, before John called out again, "Ricco! Stop! You're going the wrong way!"
Now by this time I was getting a little confused. I was getting a little ticked off too if you want to know the truth. And I marched right back up to John to tell him off. But when I yelled at him, he just smiled. "Ricco," he asked after I'd stopped yelling. What did you do when I told you, you were going the wrong way?" "I stopped and turned around, of course," I told him. "I don't want to go the wrong way." "Now you've got it! That's what repentance means," John replied. "It means you stop doing what's wrong. Then you turn around and do what's right."
"But how do I know what's right," I shot back. "It's easy for someone who's holy like you to do what's right. But how do I know what to do?"
"Rabbi Gamiel once said we should love God, and not do to someone else what we wouldn't want done to us," John answered. "Do that, and you know you'll be doing what's right. And you'll not only be doing what's right. You'll be straightening the curves and twists of your life. Then you'll be ready for the coming of the King.
Don't do to someone what you don't want done to you. If you don't want to go to your homies' funerals stop shooting other people's homies. Stop treating other people like dirt. Turn around and treat them like you'd like to be treated. And don't treat yourself like dirt either. You're a child of God who's made in God's image. If you're hurting yourself in any way stop it. Turn around and treat yourself like the image of God you are."
"Wow," I said. "Just stop, and turn around. Hey John, I got to go. I've got to tell Nicci and the homies about this."
"You do that Rico," John said with a smile. "But remember to tell Nicci and your homies, there's a King coming. We're got to get ready. Keep telling them to get ready by stopping, and turning around."
Frank R. Fisher, Obl OSB, is a second-career interim/transitional pastor in the Presbyterian Church (USA). He currently serves as the interim pastor of First Presbyterian Church in Bushnell, Illinois. During the final years of his first career as a paramedic and administrator for the Chicago Fire Department, Fisher graduated from McCormick Theological Seminary and was ordained. He is an Oblate of the ecumenical Abbey of John the Baptist and Saint Benedict in Bartonville, Illinois, where he has joined the rapidly growing number of those who are called to follow Saint Benedict's rule.
Christmas Tears
By Christina Seibel
Surely God is my salvation; I will trust, and will not be afraid, for the Lord God is my strength and my might; he has become my salvation. With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation. And you will say on that day: Give thanks to the Lord, call on his name; make known his deeds among the nations; proclaim that his name is exalted. Sing praises to the Lord, for he has done gloriously; let this be known in all the earth. Shout aloud and sing for joy, O royal Zion, for great in your midst is the Holy One of Israel.
-- Isaiah 12:2-6
I think nothing breaks our hearts as badly as does the broken hearts of our children. My daughter, Melissa, moved back in with my husband and I just before Thanksgiving. Her husband had left her and wanted nothing to do with the baby they were expecting.
In the early morning hours of Christmas Eve Day, as the world prepared to celebrate the birth of the Babe of Bethlehem, I held my daughter's hand as she gave birth to a premature stillborn child, due to a separated placenta. Baby Afton Long was born and died on Christmas Eve Day.
As I held my stillborn grandchild, my daughter, with a broken heart and tear-filled eyes, looked up at me and said, "Mom, I know we can't baptize the baby -- but can you give my baby a blessing?" As she named her baby, we prayed together. Then she held her baby so tenderly, marveling at how perfectly formed the baby was: ten toes, ten fingers. Through it all, a song from the Christmas Eve cantata kept echoing in my mind. "Be Exalted, O God."
Yet, in the midst of great tragedy, there were tears of joy.
After notifying family members by phone, my father's closing words to me were, "Remember, Christmas still happens. Christ still comes." He was so right. God's abundant grace has indeed been with us.
The hospital staff and Melissa's obstetrician were truly God's hands of compassion that night. They were wonderful. The Senior Pastor at the church, where my husband (who is my daughter's stepfather, as her dad died six years ago) serves as Associate Pastor, offered to let my husband preach at my Christmas Eve services, so that I could continue to be with my daughter. It gave us precious time together to cry, to pray, and for me just to sit and hold her while she cried and slept. So many people -- friends, family, church members -- have offered their prayers and condolences. It got us through the first night. Then, Christmas morning, my council president and his fiancÈ called to say that Christmas dinner was being provided. Later on, a homemade "with all the trimmings" Christmas dinner was delivered to our door.
And then, Christmas night, as I helped my daughter get into bed, she hugged me and said through her tears, "Mom, it's so much harder at night. I love you so much! Thanks for everything. I don't know what I would have done without you." Then she looked up at me and said, "I don't mean this to sound weird, but I have really been feeling God's presence in this." The cantata hymn rang out in my mind once again, "Be Exalted, O God!"
I give thanks to God for the grace that has sustained my daughter thus far. And I know she has a long road to go yet, so please, pray for Melissa, for healing from grief, for healing from surgery, and for healing from a broken marriage.
(from Sharing Visions, edited by John Sumwalt [Lima, Ohio: CSS Publishing Co., Inc., 2003], pp. 26-27)
The Holy Land Experience
By Timothy F. Merrill
Sing aloud, O daughter Zion; shout, O Israel! Rejoice and exult with all your heart, O daughter Jerusalem! The Lord has taken away the judgements against you, he has turned away your enemies. The king of Israel, the Lord, is in your midst; you shall fear disaster no more. On that day it shall be said to Jerusalem: Do not fear, O Zion; do not let your hands grow weak. The Lord, your God, is in your midst, a warrior who gives victory; he will rejoice over you with gladness, he will renew you in his love; he will exult over you with loud singing as on a day of festival. I will remove disaster from you, so that you will not bear reproach for it. I will deal with all your oppressors at that time. And I will save the lame and gather the outcast, and I will change their shame into praise and renown in all the earth. At that time I will bring you home, at the time when I gather you; for I will make you renowned and praised among all the peoples of the earth, when I restore your fortunes before your eyes, says the Lord.
-- Zephaniah 3:14-20
No one in their right mind would want to visit the Holy Land now.
Millions of Americans have done so in the past. Tour buses routinely used to clog all the tourist spots in Israel and the Palestinian West Bank. Pilgrims flocked to Manger Square and the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem; the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, the Via Dolorosa, and the Mount of Olives in Jerusalem; Beersheba to the south; Nazareth, Tiberius, and the Sea of Galilee to the north; the Jordan river, Qumran, the Dead Sea, and Masada to the east.
Now Bethlehem is a ghost town. Rubble fills the streets where once shopkeepers were selling Bibles with olive wood covers. Jerusalem is partitioned; Arabs are no longer allowed to move about freely, and Jews wonder whether they'll survive a bus ride; school girls with plastic explosives around their waists are killing school girls with bookbags on their backs. So not too many tourists are ready to hop a flight to Ben Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv these days.
Not to worry. Americans who want to have a Holy Land Experience can now do so without ever leaving the U.S.A. Instead, one only needs to book a flight or hop in the SUV and get to Orlando, Florida, where "The Holy Land Experience," a religious tourist attraction built for $16 million, recently opened for business.
The "living museum" covers the history of Israel from 1450 B.C. to A.D. 66; in other words, from the time of Moses to the destruction of the Temple.
The whole project, however, has been subject to ridicule. Built by Zion's Hope, a religious outfit based in Orlando, the "experience" is supposed to combine entertainment with evangelism. The profits are earmarked to attempt to convert Jews to Christianity. No wonder the local rabbis have urged their congregations not to support this "holy land experience."
Undeterred, Zion's Hope is spending $350,000 on a national ad campaign and hopes to attract people to see a life-sized walled gate of Jerusalem, a re-creation of Herod's temple, the garden tomb of Jesus, a street with workshops, and the caves where the Dead Sea scrolls were discovered.
You won't be able to take a thrill ride, but there are guides who will give talks and costumed characters will roam the halls.
While thousands are watching and listening to an animatronic Moses recite the Ten Commandments, the daughters of Jerusalem are still weeping.
While thousands are passing through the Garden Tomb of Jesus in Orlando, the mothers of Jerusalem are still burying their sons.
While thousands are studying a model of Jerusalem, the city is falling stone by stone.
What an unholy land experience.
(from Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit, Timothy F. Merrill [Lima, Ohio: CSS Publishing Co., Inc.], pp. 15-16)
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StoryShare, December 17, 2006, issue.
Copyright 2006 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
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What's Up This Week
Good Stories: "Rejoice In The Lord" by Rick McCracken-Bennett
"Turn Around" by Frank Fisher
"Christmas Tears" by Christina Seibel
"The Holy Land Experience" by Timothy F. Merrill
What's Up This Week
Rejoice in the Lord! Sing praises to the Lord. Sing loud and long. The Good News is on its way. With many prayers of thanksgiving for this good news, praise the Lord! The impending birth of the Messiah is wonderful news to everyone. There is no longer any reason to be afraid -- just praise the Lord with a loud voice.
Good Stories
Rejoice In The Lord
By Rick McCracken-Bennett
Rejoice in the Lord always! Again I say, rejoice!
-- Philippians 4:4
There is a story that circulates each year around campfires and spooky storytelling events that goes something like this: "It was a dark and stormy night. We were all gathered around the campfire. Far off and yet very near we could hear sounds in the woods that caused chills to run up and down our spines. Above us an owl hooted her greeting. Then, someone said, Rick, why don't you tell us a story? And Rick began: 'it was a dark and stormy night. We were all gathered around the campfire. Far off and yet very near we could hear sounds in the woods that caused chills to run up and down our spines. Above us an owl hooted her greeting. Then, Rick said, Jerry, why don't you tell us a story? And he began, 'It was a dark and stormy night.' " This would often go on until the storyteller was pelted with s'mores and forced to stop.
It's not unlike the Song That Has No End from Sesame Street. (It goes... on and on my friend.) The kids loved it. They would dance and sing it all day long. Parents... well, the parents didn't love it quite so much.
Or, One Hundred Bottles of Beer on the Wall, that traveling high school marching bands seem compelled to sing every time they get on a bus to go to faraway football games. (I'm convinced we do not pay our school bus drivers anything close to what they're worth.)
Many of us who were around in the late '60s and '70s remember a similar song that we sang on retreats or at less formal worship services. It was fun the first time but got increasingly annoying very shortly. The words went: "Rejoice in the Lord always! Again I say, rejoice!" And then it was repeated... over and over again: "Rejoice in the Lord always! Again I say, rejoice!" It was the song that had no end. On and on it would be sung with only a descant of sorts, sung above the "melody," to break it up. It was, for many of us, our first experience with an "earworm," a tune that gets into your brain early in the day and won't stop no matter what we do. (If you have any doubt just try to get the Jeopardy theme song to stop once it starts playing in your head.) All it takes is hearing someone humming the melody and it's off to the races. Hours and hours of: "Rejoice in the Lord always! Again I say, rejoice!"
And I wonder if that's so bad. Annoying, yes, but not so bad.
Many of us find ourselves humming a catchy melody of a hymn or song that we sang earlier that day in church. It finds its way, in and out and between our other thoughts and concerns. It often comforts, enlightens, or illuminates our way. For those of us who never took too kindly to scripture memorization, this became a way of praying always, of praying twice. We were using a mantra before most of us had ever heard of the word.
It seems that a song like "Rejoice in the Lord always! Again I say rejoice!" functions well (though I wish the melody was a little richer and not sounding so much like a jingle). Perhaps our day's internal dialogue, prayer if you will, would sound something like this:
Man, I don't want to get out of bed and face the boss today.
Rejoice in the Lord always! Again I say rejoice!
I just don't know how we're going to pay for college.
Rejoice in the Lord always! Again I say rejoice!
I can't believe that my cancer might have returned... again!
Rejoice in the Lord always! Again I say rejoice!
By now you might be thinking that I'm a bit daft. Rejoice!? With something like cancer, or the rising cost of college, or bosses that are unreasonable. Saint Paul can't be serious. Rejoice when things are going pretty well, okay, but to ask us to rejoice during the bad times... that is just too much.
Except that he wasn't kidding, he was serious. To rejoice always, not just when things are going peachy-keen, is a way of acknowledging that these are times of grace, too. That God is with us in the good times and in the bad. In good health and in sickness. In prosperity and in adversity. In times of peace and in times of war.
We rejoice because our God is very near. Comforting, healing, soothing, blessing, and guiding.
So if I've done it to you... started an earworm with our little jingle of a song, rejoice anyway, rejoice in the Lord always... again, I say rejoice!
Rick McCracken-Bennett, an Episcopal priest and church planter, is the founding pastor of All Saints Episcopal Church in New Albany, Ohio. Rick began his ministry as a Roman Catholic priest, and he has also served as an alcohol and drug treatment counselor and as the director of an outpatient treatment center for adults and children. McCracken-Bennett has been an avid storyteller for almost 20 years, sharing his stories in churches, libraries, schools, and conferences. He is a member of the National Storytelling Network, the National Organization of Biblical Storytellers, and the Storytellers of Central Ohio. His doctoral thesis, Future Story, explored the use of stories to help bring about change in the church. McCracken-Bennett is a graduate of Findlay College, St. Meinrad School of Theology, and Seabury-Western Theological Seminary.
Turn Around
By Frank Fisher
Luke 3:7-18
"That's what they say this guy John the Baptist's shouting," Nicci told me. Get out there to the wilderness and check him out Rico. He sounds like kind of a strange dude. But there's somethin' about him that tells me we've got to take a look at him.
I just gave Nicci a weird look. It was way too early on a Monday morning. And I couldn't deal with too much intensity yet. "I'm not kidding," Nicci said. "Look at this old book. The one I showed you last week. This old dude named Malachi wrote, 'See, I am sending my messenger to prepare the way before me, and the Lord you seek will suddenly come to his temple. Then the offering of Joliet and New Lenox will be pleasing to the Lord as in the days of old and as in the former years.' "
Nicci slowly put the book down and stared at me for a minute. "This messenger's telling everybody to do something called repent," he said. "We need to find out what repent means. Maybe it's something that'll show us how to stop all the fighting." "The Cobras are killing the Insane Unknowns. And the Kings are wiping out the Regals. We've got to stop this stuff or nobody's going to have any homies left!"
"But Nicci," I said, "this guy's all the way out in New Lenox! That's a long way from Joliet. He's out there in the wilderness. And how am I going to find this guy way out there."
"Just look for a weird looking dude, yelling at people and telling them to do that repent thing," he replied. They say he hangs out by a river." And there'll be a crowd of people 'round him. There can't be too many dudes like that hanging 'round in Will County."
Well I could see Nicci wasn't going to take no for an answer. So I packed my stuff and I started hoofing it toward New Lenox. It wasn't too long until I got to the Des Plaines river. And sure 'nough I found a weird looking dude standing right there beside the river. There was a pretty good crowd of people standing 'round him and listening to what he said.
"This must be the guy," I thought to myself. So I kind of snaked my way through the crowd so I could hear what he was saying. When I got real close I could see he was waving his arms in the air and yelling at the crowd. "Re-evaluate," he told them. Its almost time for us to submit our budgets to Session. Re-evaluate and see what we need to do."
"What's this re-evaluate business," I shouted back. "You're supposed to be telling people to repent. Aren't you John the Baptist." Well this guy just started laughing right out loud. "No, you've got the wrong guy," he said. "I'm his cousin David -- David the Presbyterian. And you're interrupting our annual meeting. You've still got a long way to travel if you want to find John."
So I picked up my backpack and I started walking again. It took me awhile but I finally got into the swing of this hiking stuff. And there were lots of interesting things to see besides the road. There was that big boat besides the Des Plaines river. That was kind of cool. And there were all those open spaces completely filled with these really tall skinny plants. I thought one of those plants might look good in my place. So I asked someone what they were. Then I thought to myself, "I hope what ever this John guy is telling people will help this dude. Everyone knows you find corn in a can, not growing out of the ground."
Anyway, the trip didn't turn out too bad. I found New Lenox. And I found the river. But I couldn't see any strange dudes hanging with crowds. So the first person who came by, I asked her if she'd seen this John the Baptist dude. "Of course," she said, the whole town's talking about him. He's staying at the Buff's Motel. But around this time you'll find him yelling at a crowd over in the K-Mart parking lot." So I started walking again. Then sure enough, there he was in the K-Mart parking lot. And there were a whole lot of people around him. I didn't need to get too close to hear him 'cause he was screaming at the top of his lungs. "I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness: Prepare the way of the Lord, make his path's straight. Every valley shall be filled and every mountain and hill shall be made low, and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways made smooth; and all flesh shall see the salvation of God."
"Okay, now I get it," I thought. "Repent means going on the road crew." So I got through the crowd, and went up to John to volunteer to go to work. "My name's Ricco," I said. I'm ready, "When do we start?"
John looked at me kind of strange. And he walked over like he wanted to get a good look at me. "Have some," he said, and he handed me a take out box. What ever it was smelled pretty good. But I pried the lid open and it was swarming with bugs. "Hey John," I told him, I don't mean to be rude but your dinner's alive. I think the roaches got to it. And while you're at it, you better ditch that fur coat before the PETA people throw red paint on it.
"My camel skin's just fine," John replied. "And locusts and wild honey's good for you. Now what is it you want to start? "The road crew," I replied. "I'm ready to repent, I want to start on the road crew straightening the crooked paths, filling the valleys, smoothing the rough ways, and lowering the mountains. I'm all ready to go. But I got to tell you, this is Illinois. And you're going to have a hard time finding any mountains and hills 'round here."
John looked at me, like I was from Mars or something. "I don't think you quite get it," he said. "Repentance doesn't have anything to do with road building. There's a King coming. And when there's a King coming you straighten things out before the King gets here. It's like when your girlfriend comes over. You don't want her to see the mess you live in. So you hurry up and clean the floor, take out the trash, and do the sink full of dirty dishes so she won't think you're a total pig."
"I get it now," I shouted. "I'll go back and tell my bud Nicci repent means to keep things clean. And when we get things cleaned up then all the homies will stop fighting each other. Thanks John, I was getting kind of tired of going to my bud's funerals."
Then I picked up my backpack, and I started back through the crowd. I had to hurry to let Nicci know this great news. But I hadn't gone ten feet before John shouted out, "Ricco! Stop! You're going the wrong way!" "Ok," I thought, "maybe I forgot the way back toward Joliet." So I turned around to walk back the other way. And this time, I didn't get five feet, before John called out again, "Ricco! Stop! You're going the wrong way!"
Now by this time I was getting a little confused. I was getting a little ticked off too if you want to know the truth. And I marched right back up to John to tell him off. But when I yelled at him, he just smiled. "Ricco," he asked after I'd stopped yelling. What did you do when I told you, you were going the wrong way?" "I stopped and turned around, of course," I told him. "I don't want to go the wrong way." "Now you've got it! That's what repentance means," John replied. "It means you stop doing what's wrong. Then you turn around and do what's right."
"But how do I know what's right," I shot back. "It's easy for someone who's holy like you to do what's right. But how do I know what to do?"
"Rabbi Gamiel once said we should love God, and not do to someone else what we wouldn't want done to us," John answered. "Do that, and you know you'll be doing what's right. And you'll not only be doing what's right. You'll be straightening the curves and twists of your life. Then you'll be ready for the coming of the King.
Don't do to someone what you don't want done to you. If you don't want to go to your homies' funerals stop shooting other people's homies. Stop treating other people like dirt. Turn around and treat them like you'd like to be treated. And don't treat yourself like dirt either. You're a child of God who's made in God's image. If you're hurting yourself in any way stop it. Turn around and treat yourself like the image of God you are."
"Wow," I said. "Just stop, and turn around. Hey John, I got to go. I've got to tell Nicci and the homies about this."
"You do that Rico," John said with a smile. "But remember to tell Nicci and your homies, there's a King coming. We're got to get ready. Keep telling them to get ready by stopping, and turning around."
Frank R. Fisher, Obl OSB, is a second-career interim/transitional pastor in the Presbyterian Church (USA). He currently serves as the interim pastor of First Presbyterian Church in Bushnell, Illinois. During the final years of his first career as a paramedic and administrator for the Chicago Fire Department, Fisher graduated from McCormick Theological Seminary and was ordained. He is an Oblate of the ecumenical Abbey of John the Baptist and Saint Benedict in Bartonville, Illinois, where he has joined the rapidly growing number of those who are called to follow Saint Benedict's rule.
Christmas Tears
By Christina Seibel
Surely God is my salvation; I will trust, and will not be afraid, for the Lord God is my strength and my might; he has become my salvation. With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation. And you will say on that day: Give thanks to the Lord, call on his name; make known his deeds among the nations; proclaim that his name is exalted. Sing praises to the Lord, for he has done gloriously; let this be known in all the earth. Shout aloud and sing for joy, O royal Zion, for great in your midst is the Holy One of Israel.
-- Isaiah 12:2-6
I think nothing breaks our hearts as badly as does the broken hearts of our children. My daughter, Melissa, moved back in with my husband and I just before Thanksgiving. Her husband had left her and wanted nothing to do with the baby they were expecting.
In the early morning hours of Christmas Eve Day, as the world prepared to celebrate the birth of the Babe of Bethlehem, I held my daughter's hand as she gave birth to a premature stillborn child, due to a separated placenta. Baby Afton Long was born and died on Christmas Eve Day.
As I held my stillborn grandchild, my daughter, with a broken heart and tear-filled eyes, looked up at me and said, "Mom, I know we can't baptize the baby -- but can you give my baby a blessing?" As she named her baby, we prayed together. Then she held her baby so tenderly, marveling at how perfectly formed the baby was: ten toes, ten fingers. Through it all, a song from the Christmas Eve cantata kept echoing in my mind. "Be Exalted, O God."
Yet, in the midst of great tragedy, there were tears of joy.
After notifying family members by phone, my father's closing words to me were, "Remember, Christmas still happens. Christ still comes." He was so right. God's abundant grace has indeed been with us.
The hospital staff and Melissa's obstetrician were truly God's hands of compassion that night. They were wonderful. The Senior Pastor at the church, where my husband (who is my daughter's stepfather, as her dad died six years ago) serves as Associate Pastor, offered to let my husband preach at my Christmas Eve services, so that I could continue to be with my daughter. It gave us precious time together to cry, to pray, and for me just to sit and hold her while she cried and slept. So many people -- friends, family, church members -- have offered their prayers and condolences. It got us through the first night. Then, Christmas morning, my council president and his fiancÈ called to say that Christmas dinner was being provided. Later on, a homemade "with all the trimmings" Christmas dinner was delivered to our door.
And then, Christmas night, as I helped my daughter get into bed, she hugged me and said through her tears, "Mom, it's so much harder at night. I love you so much! Thanks for everything. I don't know what I would have done without you." Then she looked up at me and said, "I don't mean this to sound weird, but I have really been feeling God's presence in this." The cantata hymn rang out in my mind once again, "Be Exalted, O God!"
I give thanks to God for the grace that has sustained my daughter thus far. And I know she has a long road to go yet, so please, pray for Melissa, for healing from grief, for healing from surgery, and for healing from a broken marriage.
(from Sharing Visions, edited by John Sumwalt [Lima, Ohio: CSS Publishing Co., Inc., 2003], pp. 26-27)
The Holy Land Experience
By Timothy F. Merrill
Sing aloud, O daughter Zion; shout, O Israel! Rejoice and exult with all your heart, O daughter Jerusalem! The Lord has taken away the judgements against you, he has turned away your enemies. The king of Israel, the Lord, is in your midst; you shall fear disaster no more. On that day it shall be said to Jerusalem: Do not fear, O Zion; do not let your hands grow weak. The Lord, your God, is in your midst, a warrior who gives victory; he will rejoice over you with gladness, he will renew you in his love; he will exult over you with loud singing as on a day of festival. I will remove disaster from you, so that you will not bear reproach for it. I will deal with all your oppressors at that time. And I will save the lame and gather the outcast, and I will change their shame into praise and renown in all the earth. At that time I will bring you home, at the time when I gather you; for I will make you renowned and praised among all the peoples of the earth, when I restore your fortunes before your eyes, says the Lord.
-- Zephaniah 3:14-20
No one in their right mind would want to visit the Holy Land now.
Millions of Americans have done so in the past. Tour buses routinely used to clog all the tourist spots in Israel and the Palestinian West Bank. Pilgrims flocked to Manger Square and the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem; the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, the Via Dolorosa, and the Mount of Olives in Jerusalem; Beersheba to the south; Nazareth, Tiberius, and the Sea of Galilee to the north; the Jordan river, Qumran, the Dead Sea, and Masada to the east.
Now Bethlehem is a ghost town. Rubble fills the streets where once shopkeepers were selling Bibles with olive wood covers. Jerusalem is partitioned; Arabs are no longer allowed to move about freely, and Jews wonder whether they'll survive a bus ride; school girls with plastic explosives around their waists are killing school girls with bookbags on their backs. So not too many tourists are ready to hop a flight to Ben Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv these days.
Not to worry. Americans who want to have a Holy Land Experience can now do so without ever leaving the U.S.A. Instead, one only needs to book a flight or hop in the SUV and get to Orlando, Florida, where "The Holy Land Experience," a religious tourist attraction built for $16 million, recently opened for business.
The "living museum" covers the history of Israel from 1450 B.C. to A.D. 66; in other words, from the time of Moses to the destruction of the Temple.
The whole project, however, has been subject to ridicule. Built by Zion's Hope, a religious outfit based in Orlando, the "experience" is supposed to combine entertainment with evangelism. The profits are earmarked to attempt to convert Jews to Christianity. No wonder the local rabbis have urged their congregations not to support this "holy land experience."
Undeterred, Zion's Hope is spending $350,000 on a national ad campaign and hopes to attract people to see a life-sized walled gate of Jerusalem, a re-creation of Herod's temple, the garden tomb of Jesus, a street with workshops, and the caves where the Dead Sea scrolls were discovered.
You won't be able to take a thrill ride, but there are guides who will give talks and costumed characters will roam the halls.
While thousands are watching and listening to an animatronic Moses recite the Ten Commandments, the daughters of Jerusalem are still weeping.
While thousands are passing through the Garden Tomb of Jesus in Orlando, the mothers of Jerusalem are still burying their sons.
While thousands are studying a model of Jerusalem, the city is falling stone by stone.
What an unholy land experience.
(from Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit, Timothy F. Merrill [Lima, Ohio: CSS Publishing Co., Inc.], pp. 15-16)
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StoryShare, December 17, 2006, issue.
Copyright 2006 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., 517 South Main Street, Lima, Ohio 45804.
