Month: August 2013

On Dad’s Passing

Published by mhelbert on August 26, 2013

I’ve been away for a few days. You see, my Dad passed away last week. So, I’ve been pretty distracted. I wanted to share a little bit about him. As I’ve relived so many stories that reveal the kind of person he was, I realize that putting them into words is virtually impossible. So, I’m going to share the eulogy that I gave at his memorial service. It sums up much of who Dad was to us, his family and close friends. It’s kind of long, nearly 2,500 words, but I think it’s a pretty easy read. I hope that it honors his memory.

Bill was born March 2, 1929 to Tom and Goldi Helbert in Ashland, OH. When Bill was 6, Goldi died from tuberculosis. Tom got remarried to a woman named Ola. Not too many years later, Ola divorced Tom. Tom moved out of state and left Bill to live with his step mother.

Now, this period of his life is kind of hazy because Bill never shared his feelings openly. I think in many ways he was embarrassed. The memories that we were able to pry out of him were not pleasant. He told me of the time he tried out for the school football team. In practice he sustained a hit that caused him to lose some teeth. When he got home, his step mother told him that she was not going to pay for the dental care he needed. Bill had to work in order to raise the money for this. As I was looking through his high school yearbook I noticed that many of the students had long lists of clubs and activities they were part of. In fact, my mom’s list was one of the longest out of all of them. Bill’s? Blank. He was too busy working to have had time for extracurriculars. From the time he was fourteen he worked. He spent time working on a farm where his duties were to care for chickens. In payment, he received food and a bed. He worked for a local grocery in the butcher shop. He got to clean up the mess. He was not afraid to take on any job. He was the product of his generation. Honesty, loyalty, patriotism and faithfulness were characteristics of these folks that were forged in the crucible of depression and war. Hard work was simply a way of life.

He did have time for some fun, though. He and friends would drive up to Ruggles Beach from Ashland. It was there that he began a relationship with a fiery red-head named Marilyn Shanefelter. The two were married in March of 1948. Shortly after he and Mom were married, Bill was at the Ashland Elks club having a beer with his father-in-law and some others. A man who worked for the local draft board told him that his name was going to be selected for the draft. Not wanting to leave anything to chance, he enlisted in the navy. He told me that the recruiter had promised that he would be stationed in San Diego. So, of course, he wound up in Norfolk, VA. As with everything else in his life, Bill energetically applied himself to his duties. He served on a troop transport sailing between Greenland and Cuba carrying troops for training and other duties during the Korean conflict. He was honorably discharged in 1953.

After Dad got out of the navy, he found a job in Elyria at the Chronicle Telegram. Soon after, they moved to a house in Elyria, and then to the house we grew up in here in Avon Lake. Mom and Dad were unable to have children. So, in 1955 they adopted me, even though I was considered ‘handicapped’ because of a birthmark I had on my face. Then, in 1960, Dave was added to the family. We were welcomed into their home and loved much, probably more, than any natural child. We were not flesh and blood, but we became family because that is what Marilyn and Bill wanted. With one mind they poured themselves into the two of us. Together, we were the Helberts…period.

He would take me to work with him sometimes on Saturday. He would set me up with a pair of scissors and some samples of things they had printed, mostly pictures of cranes, and I would cut out the pictures and generally make a mess.

Our first home was near Lake Erie. One time I was down by the lake playing. I noticed a fairly large school of fish rippling the surface. I ran home to tell Dad to get his fishing pole and come down. Well, he said that he was busy at the moment. So, disappointed, I went back to the lake. A few minutes later I looked up and here came Bill with his fishing gear. (I suspect Mom had something to do with his change of heart.) He cast out and within minutes we had a bucket full of white bass. He then said that they were pretty small, so he released them. But, that was OK. Because as far as I was concerned, Dad had come through.

Dad did have a love of fishing. We would regularly take trips to look for the biggest and baddest fish that could be found. One time, Dave had gone with Dad and Mom to Canada to fish. Bill caught the biggest largemouth bass that he had ever seen. With great pride, Dad put it on a stringer and put it in the water. After a time, they decided to move on to another location. So, Dad fired up the motor and down the river they went. As they were cruising, Dave happened to notice the stringer skimming on top of the water. He told Dad, who stopped the boat and pulled in the empty stringer. Oh, the loss! The look on Dad’s face was priceless.

Over the years Bill tried various types of hobbies and activities. My earliest memories of these were of him building model airplanes. He spent hours attending to every detail. He made sure that the wheels and props were painted accurately. Every decal was meticulously applied. The wheels and props turned and the flaps flapped. We would have them on display here today if it wasn’t for the fact that I tried to make them fly. He tried out model railroading for a while. He played volleyball, tennis and golf. He and mom played cards and dominoes with friends. He filled his days with activities with others.

He was a regular guy. He was unpretentious. As a manager at the Lorain Printing Co., he never acted like a ‘boss.’ He treated everyone with equal respect. He continued to treasure the friendships that he had made there. It was not uncommon for his coworkers to refer to him as an Ashland Hillbilly. I think that part of the reason for that may have been because of some of the things that he would say. We have affectionately named these things “Billy Tisms.” Here are some examples:

When something worked easily: it was Slicker’n owl shit To the person who stole pennies from his desk: May you live to be 100 and never shit When it was raining hard: The rain’s coming down like a cow pissing on a flat rock After a few beers: I gotta pee like a racehorse When something went wrong: Oh, bat shit! When someone offered something Bill didn’t think much of: I wouldn’t hit a big bull in the ass with a banjo for that About that piano player: he’s good at playing the cracks. (between the keys) About food: I’ll eat anything that doesn’t eat me first! About another person who is confused: He doesn’t know if he’s a foot or horseback When someone poked his belly: Ow! That’s nothing but mainsprings and rubber bands! When the dog has jumped up on him: Nope, 4 on the floor! When things don’t work out just right: Balls! And one that he told me many times when I was growing up: If you don’t have something good to say about someone, don’t say anything at all.

Bill continued to work into his 70s…until his memory and Mom’s health began to fail. Dad was fiercely devoted to his family. At the white hot center of that devotion was Marilyn. She was his joy and his strength. She was the queen of his world. He trusted her to love him and was faithful to her like no one else I’ve ever known. Dave and I were talking and neither of us can remember a time when there were raised voices between them. Every day when he got home from work, Marilyn greeted him with a kiss. His loyalty to her was incredible. There are some in this room who have experienced Bill’s loyalty. If anyone spoke ill of Marilyn, or tried to get into ‘our business’ he would react…well…with gusto. Sometimes, that would even be directed at Dave or me. If we caused Mom trouble, Bill would not hesitate to adjust our attitude.

We watched as Mom’s health began to decline. The times that Mom was in hospital with serious illnesses found Bill at her side. These times were the only ones when I saw Bill cry. He cared for her every need. He provided everything to make sure she was comfortable and happy. One of the hardest things for him was to admit that he could no longer care for her by himself. Because of her stroke and the weakness that caused, she had to move into a skilled nursing facility. Bill then modified his life in order to be with her. He displayed his faithfulness by spending every waking hour with her. The only times he was not by her side were when she had to go for dialysis or other medical treatment. Many times we would go to visit Mom and find them both sleeping. Mom in her bed and Dad in the chair next to her. As long as she was able, he would take her for rides in the car. Just to get out and spend time together.

On a day in late Sept. 2010, Bill’s world ended. As we were all together at Mom’s bedside, she left us. Bill was holding her left hand when he suddenly cried out, “Oh, God! She’s gone!” He never got over that moment. We tried to comfort him. That was not going to happen. Over the next years he would keep telling us that she wasn’t supposed to go first…he was. I don’t think he really ever forgave himself for not leading the way into the next life. He never took Mom’s things out of their home. He left everything as it was. He allowed her ‘ghost’ to remain with him.

As the dementia began to overtake him, he seemed to forget that Marilyn had gone. Every now and then he would ask us where she was. One time Sarah told him to behave himself as she was leaving his home. He responded that he had to; Marilyn wouldn’t let him do otherwise. Then wondered where she was. At the nursing home, he believed that Marilyn was there somewhere…maybe in the next room. At first I was concerned with this. But, then I realized that Bill’s world was not the same as mine. In Bill’s world, his beloved Marilyn was still with him. She was just in the next room.

The writer of the book of Hebrews penned these words: Heb. 10:38 – “But my righteous one will live by faith. And I take no pleasure in the one who shrinks back.”

This faith is not simply ‘believing’ something. This faith has nothing to do with creeds and doctrines. There is no church polity involved in this faith. This faith has everything to do with action.

The story of Noah was about a man and his family who heard God warn them about impending disaster. They trusted God’s words and faithfully took action. God found them trustworthy.

Abraham, whom the apostle Paul referred to as “our father in the sight of God, in whom he believed – the God who gives life to the dead and calls into being things that were not” (Rom. 4:17b), did not simply sit in his tent and ‘believe’ God. He left his homeland and wandered as an alien in the land that God had told him would one day belong to his children. Children that he did not even have! Yet, he trusted God. God found him trustworthy and gave Abraham and Sarah children in their old age. At that point Abraham could have easily said, “Yep, God is good. God came through and gave me an heir. Now, I can sit back and eat grapes and pomegranates and chillax in my retirement.” But, he did not. He continued to trust God. He continued to be ‘faithful.’ So, when God asked him to sacrifice the son of the promise, Abraham trusted God. He had ‘faith’ that God, who had promised Isaac, could raise Isaac from the dead. This is faithfulness.

Moses, the one person about whom the scripture states was God’s friend, became that friend because he, too, trusted God and was faithful to act on that trust. After 40 years of exile, he returned to Egypt where there was a death sentence on him, and defied the most powerful person in the known world. Because of Moses’ faithfulness, God displayed acts of power and wonder that revealed God’s supremacy over the gods of Egypt, which included Pharaoh. It was because of Moses’ trust and faithfulness that God was able to show God’s own faithfulness to Moses.

Example after example in this text, as well as many others, show us that to have faith has nothing to do with religious belief. It has to do with trust, honesty, faithfulness…action. It has to do with moving forward, while performing the duties of day-to-day life with no concrete reward or achievable goal in sight. The writer stated, “These were all commended for their faith, yet none of them received what had been promised.”

Bill was not religious. Yeah, he was a member of a local church. I think, though, that I can count on one hand the number of times he actually attended. He was busy being faithful. Faithful to his family and friends. He worked 7 days a week in order to provide for us. After working 10 hours, he would come home and always find time to play catch or go fishing. He coached both Dave and me in little league. He taught me how to play tennis and watched as I competed in swimming. He made it possible for me to learn to play music…and tolerated the noise of an aspiring rock-n-roller. He made sure that he and Mom made it to their grandchildren’s activities. Whether it was soccer in Avon Lake or Mount Vernon. Or, baseball and horseback riding. If he was able, he would make every effort to support us all. He knew that the world was going to continue well after him. He had faith that what he was doing in the present would bear fruit sometime. When? He didn’t know. I’m not sure that he even cared about ‘when.’ He saw the promise of the future. Yet, the final reward eluded him in this life. We, however, have already received a reward. That reward was to have been loved and cherished by Bill.

Leave a Comment

The Reunion

Published by mhelbert on August 19, 2013

Yesterday was a pleasant day. The sun shone brightly, yet the air was not too hot. There were birds and butterflies flitting about doing what birds and butterflies do. It was a great day to sit outside and simply soak it all in. However, I had a family commitment that placed me with cousins and in-laws and children and, well, just a whole lot of people. If you’ve spent any time at this blog, or if you know me, then you realize that social gatherings are not my specialty. My idea of the perfect day would be to sit in the sun with a book and a refreshing beverage. So, to say that I was looking forward to this gathering would have been overstating things a bit.

We arrived and exchanged our greetings. Finding a place at one of the tables, we sat down and struck up light conversation. Soon, the food was prepared and everyone began milling about the food table filling plates and glasses. “Oh, that looks interesting, what is it?” And, “Who made the lentil salad?” Questions being asked as we foraged through the bowls and platters filled with the various offerings of those gathered. Finding our places again, we ate and talked. That person, (“who is he again?”), brought his two young children who are really cute! Almost completely done with his pasta salad, the young boy cries out to his dad, “Oh no, there’s olives in this! Why didn’t you tell me there were olives”?! His sister had spotted them in hers and pushed them aside. The dog belonging to our host is making the rounds of all of the tables. She looks longingly at the food on our plates, sniffing for any morsel that may have wandered off of a plate and onto the ground. Over there is a small group animatedly talking about the prospects of the local football team for the upcoming season. If the coaching staff only knew half of what these people did, there would be a superbowl in the future for our local team!

Stories told and retold. Travel adventures from those who had come from out of state. I asked our host, who likes to hunt, if he ever took the dog. He replied, “Yes,” and with a gleam in his eye, told me about how they had trained her and how she was very good at finding and flushing the birds they hunted. About this time there was a splash. A couple of the kids had decided that the pool could no longer be ignored. Occasionally, someone would walk into the house to revisit the table with the food. Picking a bit of that salad; procuring another piece of carrot cake. From the other side of a tall fence we began to hear loud thumping noises. Looking around it, I saw that the corn hole game was out. More people gathered around with bottles of water and plastic cups full of soda. More talking and laughing.

After a few hours the noise subsided into quiet clusters of conversation. Everyone, having eaten their fill, seemed content to sit back and relax. Memories were being shared. After all, this is family. There is a collective memory that is like a finely cut gemstone. One memory with many facets that reflect that memory in many different ways. Each has its own perspective that reveals a new color; a new refraction of the light that produces a unique vision of love and commitment that has continued to grow and thrive through many generations.

So, I sat in the sun and watched, talked and listened. And, I realized that I was doing exactly what I had wished that I could do. I was outside enjoying the sunshine. However, rather than reading a book, a story written by someone else, I was part of this story. A story not written with ink on paper. But, rather, one that is being written on the hearts and in the lives of this small group of people…this family.

3 Comments

It’s One of Those Mornings

Published by mhelbert on August 15, 2013

I’ve spent the last two days working through ideas that I want to develop for this blog. My brain is churning and broiling like the waves at Wiamea Bay. I’m finding that it’s impossible to create worthwhile content in the couple hours I spend in the mornings. So, I’m going to try to set apart more time in the evenings, too. So much of this is reading and researching what people are talking about. How do people of faith walk in that place where Scripture, tradition and history collide with the culture?

So, forgive me for the sparse posts recently. I hope to improve on this soon.

Perhaps, you have ideas and concerns that we can discuss together!

What are your concerns? How is your understanding of faith and culture impacting how you live and what you do?

Leave a Comment

When the Magic Happens

Published by mhelbert on August 13, 2013

Alone. I like to be alone. Alone with my thoughts. Alone in a world created by my imagination. Alone with stories imagined and captured by countless others. People have recognized this and, understandably, have called me a ‘loner.’ Then, of course, they feel it their duty to invade my privacy. “It’s not right for you to be alone. Get out and meet people! Socialize! Enjoy life!” (As if it’s not possible to actually enjoy the quiet solace of solitude!)

There are times, however, when folks gather together for a common cause…and magic happens. This is the point where some people would provide a litany of group activities that are worthwhile. These would range from the marches in Selma in the 1960s to those who challenged tyranny and oppression in Tienanmen Square in 1989. They would add events in life where more than one is necessary…marriage or a soccer match.

Those who know me know that I am a musician. I’ve made music for more than 40 years. In fact, it’s when I am creating music that I find myself closest to myself and to God. I find enjoyment when I am sitting in my room, alone with my guitar, simply noodling about. There is something about closing my eyes and feeling the strings under my fingers that soothes. It can create a moment of total mindfulness. I am aware of the sound; the touch; my breath. Awareness fills my senses and I am carried away on the wings of the moment.

I have played with other musicians and singers. While, for me, being with other people is not necessarily the most comfortable experience, it is still an opportunity to experience the magic. There is something in the struggle with others to create art that adds life. Just as a butterfly struggles to free herself from her cocoon, music that struggles for its freedom can then spread its wings and fly. The band may be enriched by the experience. However, the real magic happens when the newly freed music touches the souls of the listeners.

Today, my dear friend sent me something that exemplifies how people gathered together create a magical moment that far exceeds any solo effort. She sent me a video of a song. She had introduced me this particular song a few months ago performed solo. I’m sure that some of you have heard of ‘The Cup Song’ from the movie Pitch Perfect. It’s a cute ditty where a girl sings a song at an audition using only a cup for accompaniment. When I saw it, I was intrigued by the imagination of the writer and producer. They had taken something exceptionally simple and presented it with a creative twist. And, there was magic. In the video I viewed today, the song was reimagined for quartet. There was magic four-fold! The addition of harmony, rather than cluttering, added new layers of color and texture that makes the song compelling. More than that, however, I saw people who were interrelated. They had worked and struggled to produce something together that was impossible for one person. In collaborating they created a ‘community’ gathered to enjoy the moment and each other. In the process…magic!

Leave a Comment

I Am a Rock

Published by mhelbert on August 12, 2013

One of my favorite songs of all time is “I Am a Rock,” by Simon & Garfunkel. When I hear it, I hear a description of me.

I’ve built walls,
A fortress deep and mighty,
That none may penetrate.
I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain.
It’s laughter and it’s loving I disdain.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

I’ve always envied people who, at least from my perspective, seem to have no trouble opening up to others. They have many friends and enjoy spending time with them. I am not one of them. Yeah, I have several people whom I like and get along with. We socialize and sometimes work together. But, they are not folks with whom I share myself. I’ve built walls, a fortress deep and mighty.

Over the years there have been a few people that I have let in. I’ve escorted them inside of my fortress and showed them the tapestries and paintings on the walls. I’ve opened the secret cabinets holding the silver plates and gold-rimmed chalices that I keep there. I have exposed my heart to these. But, like my cat who is socially handicapped, I don’t know when to close doors. In my exuberance to be accepted I hold nothing back. Soon, I find that my exposure is too costly. Either my emotional offering is not returned or, like Hezekiah who revealed his entire treasure to the Babylonian delegation, I find my treasure plundered and carried off.

Don’t talk of love,
But I’ve heard the words before;
It’s sleeping in my memory.
I won’t disturb the slumber of feelings that have died.
If I never loved I never would have cried.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

One would think that I would remember this. But, emotions tend to awaken. They open one eye and gaze about. If that eye spies something interesting, suddenly they become alert and search for ways to sate their desire to share themselves. You see, emotions must be shared. They cannot exist in a vacuum. While one may experience them in private, there is always some object that they are attached to outside of themselves. Taking on a life of their own, the emotions push all other considerations out of the way and present themselves with all of the false modesty and flattery they can muster. After all, one must offer oneself as perfect so that the other person will be impressed. There cannot be any warts or blemishes showing. We cannot risk rejection. Once disturbed from slumber, however, the inevitable journey toward tears begins.

I have my books
And my poetry to protect me;
I am shielded in my armor,
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb.
I touch no one and no one touches me.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

I’ve written in other places that most of the time I find the company of books preferable to that of people. Books offer refuge. They are worlds in which emotions can live safely. I can wake them and let them out for a little fresh air and sunshine. They really don’t seem to care that books are not reality. They see relationships and trees and flowers and butterflies. They are given a safe environment where they can laugh and cry. And, no one gets hurt.

And a rock feels no pain;
And an island never cries.

“I Am a Rock” lyrics: Copyright: Paul Simon Music, Eclectic Music. http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/simongarfunkel/iamarock.html Accessed: 8/12/2013.

2 Comments

The Moments that Make Up Our Story

Published by mhelbert on August 9, 2013

Once upon a time…..

The story opens and new worlds and wonders open with it. I love stories. Any kind of stories. Happy ones; not so happy ones. Stories that thrill; stories that sooth. I’m currently reading one of J.K. Rowlings’ Harry Potter books…again. (Yeah, I’m that kind of geek!) I’ve read other fiction by authors as diverse as John Steinbeck and Mario Puzo. I’ve spent hours in non-fiction that only a true bibliophile could plow through. I love the stories found in the Christian bible. Especially, the gospel stories. By far, however, my favorite stories are the ones that happen in real life. These are not written anywhere on paper. They are written in people’s hearts and lives.

My own story has been a mix of triumph and tragedy, like most everyone else’s. If I could graph the peaks of joy and the valleys of sorrow it would resemble the line of an EKG. These show the points at the tops and bottoms that reveal the heart’s function. I’m still amazed that my cardiologist can see the residual effects of the heart attack I had almost 2 years ago just by looking at these points. But, how much attention is given to the lines in between? Isn’t their purpose simply to connect the dots? Maybe. But, in the real life stories that folks have shared with me, the ‘in between’ lines carry the most important meaning.

As I reflect on the form, or graph, of my life I notice that the various points are the goals that I’ve worked toward. The peaks are those goals that have been met successfully. My wedding, the births of my children, my graduation from seminary. The valleys reveal the goals unmet. Vocational choices, some relationships, realizing personal worth. These are the things that I remember. These are the signifiers of my presence in this world. But, they are only points. They are singular events. There is a lot of time in between when nothing seems to be happening. Cutting the grass and doing the dishes. Paying bills and driving to and from work. There are the hours spent in front of the television or reading books. These are the mundane moments; seemingly meaningless.

Over the past year or so, I’ve been learning, slowly learning, that these times in which nothing seems to happening are potentially full of meaning. They are not simply that part of our lives that run on ‘auto pilot.’ They are the moments in which decisions are made that will affect the next peak or valley in our lives. And, if we’re not careful, we can miss these constructive moments. ‘Mindfulness’ and ‘being present’ are terms that some people use to describe the activity of simply paying attention to the moment we’re currently experiencing. I find myself constantly looking ahead to the next thing that I must do. I have this task to complete; that place to go. What’s for supper? (Even though it’s only noon!) How am I going to pay that bill on time? Myriad things vying for my attention right now!

What if I did the dishes simply for the sake of doing the dishes? What if I was truly ‘present’ at the sink? Not allowing my mind to wander off to all of the other things that need to be attended to. Not reflecting on the triumphs and failures of the day prior to this moment. I could pay attention to the suds and the temperature of the water. I would see that spot of whatever that isn’t washing off. My mind would not be cluttered, but would be at rest; free to exist in this one moment that can never be captured or repeated. Then, this moment would be able to have its own significance in the whole of my story.

What are some of your ‘in between’ moments? How do they fit into your story?

Leave a Comment

Who Knows the Wind…

Published by mhelbert on August 6, 2013

“The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear the sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going.”

Yesterday, I met with my spiritual director. We get together about once a month and talk. When I first started to meet with him, I voiced a great deal of frustration about where my life had been and where it appeared to be going. I did not see a great deal of God “working” in my life. I had completed seminary and felt that God would somehow open opportunities for me use that education. The months passed, and…nothing. Well, not entirely nothing. I had a heart attack. But, that’s a different chapter in this story. When I shared my feelings with my director, he listened carefully. (I appreciate that in people.) He did not offer answers.

“Sometimes we don’t see what God is doing unless we look back,” was the gist of his response at that time. By this he meant that transformation and maturity usually happens in bits and pieces over time. In our busy-ness we don’t see this happening. We are not ‘mindful’ or present to the way that the Holy Spirit encourages us and draws us ever nearer to the heart of God. “The wind blows wherever it pleases.”

I’ve begun to take his advice and have been reflecting on some things recently. I guess that’s what old, feeble people do. We look back over our lives, the decisions we’ve made, the people we’ve known and loved, (and some we haven’t loved too much!), and consider the legacy we’re leaving. Much of that reflection for me has revealed a long track filled with many train wrecks. Don’t get me wrong, there has been much joy in my life. But, for me, personally it’s been difficult.

I began to realize that not all of who we are as people is revealed in what are referred to as ‘outward’ attributes. Things like relationships, financial stability, jobs and the like. Perhaps, the greatest light shines on our ‘inner’ selves. These are the things that can drive our outward responses and actions. An example would be the frustration and anger that rise to our middle finger as that other idiot on the road cuts us off. I started to look inwardly, into my heart, to see what was there. What I found has encouraged me.

Over the past half dozen years, or so, there has been a growing compassion and empathy for others. Especially, for those who are not like me. Many evangelical churches encourage their members to make ‘unsaved’ friends. The reason for that is so that they can cultivate relationships that would enable them to share their message and, hopefully, get that person ‘saved.’ Well, I’ve found that I have more friends and people I communicate with who would not fit into that ‘born again’ demographic. And, I like them. They are wonderful people who care about others. They laugh and share and enjoy life. I have no intention of ‘preaching’ to any of them. I am, and have, been ready to share my experience with God when the subject comes up. But, there is no pressure on them or me for anything more than simply being together. I’ve found that I can empathize with them. My heart fills with compassion as I listen to them. And, I have the freedom to just be with them. No agenda or ulterior motivation. We are fellow humans, spinning through God’s Good Universe on a big rock. It is good.

Ten years ago, the story would have been much different. I was much less tolerant of others’ differences. I accepted a ‘black and white’ reality that had no room in it for the rainbow of God’s grace. I was angry and my life was a mess. But, God has been faithful and good. In my reflections I see hope. Hope that somehow our good God will continue to walk at my side, guiding me ever-so-gently, into a closer relationship with God and all of God’s Good Creation. “You hear the sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going.”

Leave a Comment

Diversity and Snoopy’s Theology

Published by mhelbert on August 5, 2013

Those who know me understand that I like to stir things up from time to time. I’ve never been afraid to speak my mind. I’ve never been afraid to embellish things with a wee bit o’ hyperbole. I don’t do this to be a smart ass. I do it to push people to think about what they are saying and doing. Yeah, sometimes it bites me in the back side. Most of the time, however, I’m not sure that anyone’s actually listening. Or, maybe they just don’t have the time to think about it.

Yesterday was one of those times that I purposely poked. A Facebook friend had posted something about being a liberal. Now, I’ve made it pretty clear that I lean to the progressive/liberal side of the theological spectrum. So, when I saw this I thought that it was worth reposting on my timeline to see what kind of responses it would garner. A couple people ‘liked’ it. That was expected. One person, however, took exception to it…with gusto. I enjoyed reading his response. It was well thought and courteous. Yes, there was strong language and passion. I would expect nothing less from him.

While I disagree with some of what he wrote, I must honor his position. It’s where God has met him. This thing that we call orthodoxy is a fairly wide playing field. There is a lot of room for diverse ideas and beliefs. This may have been the single most important lesson I learned in seminary. ‘Doing’ theology is not simply reading someone’s book on Systematic Theology and spewing it at people. It is conscious reflection on what we understand from the Scripture, the Church and its traditions, the creeds and how they intersect with the reality of our culture. It’s wrestling with the tough questions and issues while resisting the tendency to offer simple answers that help no one. My friend has done this. So have I. We have come to different conclusions. That’s ok. God, whom we follow, is a big God. I’m fairly sure that God is not worried about our differences. We each have different gifts and purposes in life that the Holy Spirit distributes as the Holy Spirit sees fit. For me, or anyone else, to say that someone else has missed the mark is simply wrong. Yes, we can encourage one another to greater understanding. Yes, we can use hyperbole to poke and prod one another to continue to think and reflect. And, yes, we can piss each other off. But, through it all, we’ve got to remember that we can have only a small piece of God’s truth. And, chances are, we’re wrong a lot more than we realize.

Leave a Comment

Milestones…

Published by mhelbert on August 3, 2013

Milestones. Wikipedia defines it as “a series of numbered markers placed along a road or boundary.” The purpose is to provide some point of reference along a road. They serve the multiple purposes of letting travelers know that they are on the right path and to reveal distance travelled toward a given destination. The Hebrew Bible has a term for this, also. In 1 Sam. 7 there is a story about God securing victory over Israel’s enemy, the Philistines. The prophet Samuel set up a stone to mark God’s provision and called it ‘Ebenezer,’ which can be translated as “the stone of help.” He placed it as a memorial…something to help people remember what had happened.

Today I have a milestone that marks my progress in the Way of Jesus. This is the 200^th blog post that I’ve written. Holy Smokes! Whodathunkit? Over the past few years I’ve had the pleasure to publish my thoughts and musings in the most public forum that humans have ever enjoyed. I’ve been read by people in Russia and Europe; India and Asia. These words of mine have been dispersed throughout the U.S. Yes, God has provided for me in this endeavor. I am extremely grateful to our Good Creator for granting me this privilege.

So, today as I sit in my office with incense burning and enjoying a wee bit ‘o Irish coffee, I say ‘Thank you!’ to those who have put up with my rants and raves. To you who have taken the time to share my heart and mind. Especially, I thank those who are my friends and still like me after they read what I write. (No easy task, I assure you!) I intend to continue on this journey, placing other milestones along the way. I so love all of you who have chosen to join me. God Bless You Real Good!

Leave a Comment

Therefore, What God has Joined Together…Sometimes Gets Broken

Published by mhelbert on August 2, 2013

“Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep.” These words written by the apostle Paul to the folks who followed Jesus in Rome are included in his description of what a community of people who are being transformed from those who live according to the rules of human culture into a spiritual community. These people, he stated, were in actuality part of a single ‘body.’ They were a unified whole in which each part was dependent on the others for their very existence. This is a way of viewing our interdependence with others that has, for the most part, been lost to Western culture. It has been also lost in the one place that one would expect to find it…the Church.

We followers of Jesus have been known for a long time as one of the few groups who shoot their own wounded. When life gets tough and some of us struggle to move, barely able to put one foot in front of the other, we often accuse, shame, and shun that person. I’ve seen this happen in others. And, I’ve experienced it personally.

Please understand that my intention is not to bash anyone. I know these people. I have been these people. They have good hearts and desire more than anything to serve God. But, we all get caught up in a righteous fervor from time-to-time that makes it difficult to get past the letter of the law to the graciousness that God has exampled for us in Jesus.

With that being said, I am going to turn my attention to divorce. I am not going to quote statistics other than to mention that the divorce rate among people who follow Jesus is pretty much the same as those who do not. Some say that anywhere from one third to one half of all marriages end in divorce. Whatever polls are used, that adds up to a lot of hurting people.

How should we respond to this? Should we follow the letter of the Scriptural prescription? Jesus made it very clear that divorce was not God’s intention for people. He is recorded as saying, “Therefore, what God has joined together, let no one separate.” There’s nothing ambiguous about that statement. Divorce is not an option that God desires. Many people in the church read this statement written by Matthew and conclude that divorce is therefore a sin. God said it. I believe it. That settles it. But, what does that look like in real life?

I had a friend many years ago who was in an abusive marriage. At times she feared for her safety. She and her husband went to church leaders for help. Much of what they received in counsel was that the husband needed to learn to love her sacrificially, just as Jesus loves the church. And, the wife had to submit to her husband no matter what. That meant that she was told to stay with him, abuse or no. At one time she became so afraid that she left to find a safe place to stay. She was commanded by the church leaders to return to her husband. Confused, hurt, and shamed she acquiesced and like a good little wife, went back.

After time, however, the fear and tension in that home became too much to bear. She moved out and began divorce proceedings. Shortly after this she received a letter from the church leadership stating that if she and her husband moved forward with a divorce they would be considered to be actively sinning and would no longer be welcome in the church. They did divorce and are now both remarried and seem to be doing very well.

The reason that I used this example is to demonstrate, what I feel, is a pastoral fail. Again, I don’t intend this to be a personal attack on any particular group of people. This kind of Biblicist action takes place in many churches. The thought being that if Jesus has apparently condemned some action or behavior, we must condemn it, also. After all, the Bible is God’s word and we don’t want to go against that.

Ok, well, let’s take a look at how Jesus handled a situation where the letter of the law, God’s word, was called as a witness. In the Gospel according to John there is a story about a woman who was caught in the act of adultery. A group of religious leaders dragged her before Jesus and explained, rightly, that the law demanded that she be stoned to death. After all, Torah was God’s word. Jesus realized that. At no point did he deny that Moses had written that adultery was a capital offense. He could have simply agreed with those men and righteously condemned the woman. But, he did not do that. Instead, he turned the issue into an opportunity to show all of the people that we are all fallible and subject to error. In essence he said, “Let the person who is without sin throw the first stone.” No one came forward. In fact, all of the accusers turned and walked away. In the end, no one was left to condemn her. Jesus, then, said, “I do not condemn you either.” He sent her on her way with an encouragement to stop sinning.

Jesus did not do away with the law. He set it aside in order to pour out compassion on a hurt and confused woman. He reinterpreted the text in the context of real life with real people who have real needs. Yes, the Bible is clear on Jesus’ feelings about divorce. We, however, need to recognize that what Jesus said is an ideal. How we apply that must be tempered with compassion. One commentator wrote, “Only an unjustifiable Biblicism will force the idealism of New Testament ethics in a cruel and heartless manner by an adamant insistence upon the teaching of this passage, (Mat.19:3-12), as merely a collection of detailed laws.”

Whatever position on divorce someone takes, we as people who desire to follow Jesus must look closely at the things that Jesus did, not just the words that he spoke. As the quote at the beginning of this post states, we must show empathy, not judgment when our sisters and brothers are hurting. We are, after all, sewn together in a glorious tapestry of humanity. Each joined to the other in the love of God through Jesus.

Leave a Comment