Sitting in the quiet darkness of early morning. That time of day when the gentle, white lace of frost Caresses the grass and paints with delicate strokes upon windows.
My mind wanders paths strewn with the blown litter of oak and maple. The creaks and cracks of the naked branches above as the gently breezes Flow among their gnarled fingers.
And, I wonder…
Where does the sand in the glass go when it completes its task? Time leaks into time with no direction other than Onward.
At what point do we stop and look around at our purposes and desires? See! The Indigenous Peoples of the Earth have stories to tell. Destroyers appeared on the horizon. Pestilence, life Passes, Peoples Perish.
My mind sees a shadow on the plains. Millions upon millions of stamping hooves.
Silenced.
People, lives, cultures…Gone.
I see the dense canopy of a billion leaves swaying in the wind, Dripping the Elixir of Life, Water, onto the world of myriad creatures.
Fire; destruction; Death.
Everyday I see the result of greed and lust in vacant eyes and bleached bones.
When will we learn?
As the poet wrote,
any mans death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankinde; And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee.
I wrote the above as I considered our headlong leap into environmental disaster. Many people give no credence to the alarms sounded by people in the scientific community and elsewhere. We really don’t have to look beyond the Indigenous Peoples of the world. When the colonists came and destroyed their habitat, the cultures perished. Even as some Indigenous nations attempt to recapture their cultures and languages, they will be forever changed. And, not necessarily for the better. What makes us so arrogant as to think that we will escape unscathed as we destroy our own environment?
The poet sings, “Where is the birthplace of the wind? From what distant lands and shores does it arise? And, wither does it go on its unceasing journey to World’s End?”
Such is the Unseen Universe. We see not. Blind to the brightness of its light.
Yet, as the wind is felt and the reality of its life can be Seen in the swirling dust; the trees genuflecting to their Unseen Benefactor. So, too is the Realm that neither eye has seen, nor ear heard.
We feel the reality in the peace that passes into our Hearts and Minds When seated in the midst of the Glories of Nature. Drops of Grace in the Morning Glory and the flitting Monarch.
The Finger of God cannot be seen. Yet, it is felt in snack offered to “the Least of These” when they hunger. The Breath of God fills the heart with joy and gladness as fine wine fills the Bride and Bridegroom on their Nuptial Day.
So, too, can the darkness of lesser gods be felt in the lust and greed that their Systems of Race and Caste endow with power. Powers and Principalities they were once named. Loosed abroad to entice the weak and the gullible. Promises of Power and Riches flow from their lying tongues. We do not hear the word spoken aloud. We do not need to. The evidence…the reality…may be seen in the subjugation of Others. We may touch their handiwork in those left homeless and without Food, Clean Water, Warm Clothing, Companionship and Love.
We cannot know from where the Wind blows. However, we can know that it exists. We can join with it to produce life. We are also able to shelter against its ferocity and appetite.
People have been asking me, “So, do you know what you’re gonna do after you retire?” I know that they mean well. They want to encourage me as I move into the next phase of the Journey. And, I know that they want to convince themselves that there can, indeed, be life after work. I know that because I asked the same questions to others as they laid aside the garments of labor and took up the mantle of the Retired.
To be honest, though, I’m not entirely sure what’s next. Like I told the person at Social Security yesterday as she was asking all sorts of questions, “I don’t know. I’ve never retired before.” That’s the truth. This is all new and uncharted territory. I don’t know for sure what’s coming next. Yeah, I’m lining up some options. But, nothing yet etched in stone.
It might be easier if I told people what I will NOT be doing.
So, here’s a list of things that I’m sure will not happen after March 31, 2020.
I will not pack a lunch and drive to Cleveland in order to work. There will be no time clock to punch. No deadlines to meet. This may be the most significant thing that will not happen.
I will not buy golf clubs and take up that game. I do not now, nor have I ever, seen any use in chasing a little white ball around a cow pasture with a stick. Not gonna happen.
I will not plop my butt in my recliner and turn on the tube. (For those of you who may be unaware, the “tube” refers to the television. They used to use Cathode Ray Tubes to produce a picture.) The remote will remain remote from my fingers. Not gonna sit and watch the world go by. Won’t happen.
I will not buy a winter home in Florida or Texas or New Mexico. Not gonna be a Snowbird. That’s not to say that we may not relocate to a warmer clime. But, going back and forth between two properties? Not gonna happen.
I will not take up playing cards or bingo or bocce ball or any of those other activities where old folks in Bermuda shorts with black support stockings stand around pretending to be active. If at some time my physical condition should deteriorate to the point that I am forced into assisted living, well, I’ve given instructions that I should be taken out behind the barn and shot. I fully intend to spend more time at Planet Fitness than sitting at a card table.
I’m not going to put up with a batch of shit from people who think they can go around spreading that manure. I’m old now. I don’t need that from folks. Nope. Not gonna happen.
I’m not going to give up my hope in people to grow and do the right things. No, I don’t place faith in Human Nature. We have 50,000 years of experience to show that’s not really trustworthy. But, we also have example after example of people stepping up to the task of being God’s Ikons in this world. I have witnessed too many people doing right. And, I know that God has not given up on us, either. So, not gonna give up.
I know that you were probably expecting a Top Ten List. Well, that’s something else I’m not gonna do. In fact, I have already begun it. I’m not gonna live up to the expectations of other people. I have never been able to do that. Not gonna start now.
So, there you have it. A brief look at my “Not To Do List.” I think everyone should have one of these. It may help avoid all kinds of trouble.
1971. Ah, I remember it well. I learned to drive that years. Keep pets and small children away from the roadway! I started my junior year of high school that year. Rah-rah…oh, crap. I also began a journey that I would never have thought possible. My first job in a print shop came that year. My dad worked at Lorain Priniting Co. in Lorain, OH. He felt that I needed to have a real job. I guess full-time student didn’t count. I should really have a paying diversion from all of the rock-n-roll stuff that was fogging up my brain.
Anyway, my first position was cleaning the overhead. For those who have never been in a commercial print shop, the overhead is the ceiling, pipes, ductwork, and lights. Basically, everything “Over Head.” Commercial offset presses used a spray powder that coated each sheet as it passed out of the printing units and was stacked at the delivery end of the press. The powder was to keep the sheets with wet ink from sticking to each other. However, the powder was not particular about what it actually attached itself to. It floated everywhere. And, stuck to everything. Including, yep, the overhead. The problem with this was that once the powder built up above the presses, any vibration would cause the powder to fall into the press and possibly cause unwanted spots and dirt on the final printed sheet. The powder had also been known to become explosive when enough of it built up and a static electric charge was applied. So, yeah. Someone needed to get out the 30 gallon vacuum and suck up the powder. Anyway, that was, what? 49 years ago.
I had, at one time, planned to go to college after high school. I had been accepted at Malone College for the fall semester of 1973. But, I had a job in a print shop. I was no longer cleaning the overhead. I had moved up to making deliveries and there was a position on a press that was available. Hey! Don’t judge! I was 18 and had gas money coming in. So, I rationalized my future and skipped college to remain in the work force. Yay, me! (The stupidity that led to that decision will have to wait for another time.)
Anyway, this is all a long way to say that, as I wrote in an earlier post, I am retiring from printing this year. I think that 49 years is long enough. It’s time to move on to a new chapter of life.
Today I went to Social Security to get that ball rolling so that on April 1 I will start receiving benefits. Yeah, you heard that right. March 31, 2020* will be my last day of being gainfully employed. On the next day, April Fool’s, I will be officially retired. The date does seem kind of appropriate.
So, here’s looking to the future. I have no idea what it will hold for sure. There are several possibilities that I’m currently weighing. It will be a journey, though. One that I hope you all will come along with me on.
*Date updated to March 31. No, I am NOT staying until May!!!! Sheesh!
I think that I wrote somewhere that I am really passionate about the Biblical text. Studying them rates as one of my all time favorite things to do. Part of why I find these ancient texts fascinating is the significance, for good or ill, that they have had on the cultures of the world. These words are not confined to one specific group of people or particular region. Unlike, say, the Hindu Vedas or Upanishads which are located pretty specifically in South Asia, the Christian Bible has influenced virtually every culture and people group on the planet. That reason, alone, is enough to cause one to want to know more about it Who wrote these texts? To whom were they written? When were the composed? Compiled? Redacted? What’s so important about the words in these 66 books, poems, laws, narratives, stories, and myths?
Sadly, these questions, and the subsequent answers, are lost on a vast number of people who say that they reverence these texts. They truly seem to not know the questions to ask. Or, perhaps more concerning, they don’t want to hear the answers. It’s far easier to let someone else do the hard work. They can then try to follow the path of those others and pretend that they are engaging The Word. But, that’s a topic for another post.
The reason I’m writing this today is because of the study I had to prepare on this past week’s lections for the Baptism of Jesus. We looked at Matthew’s take on Jesus trip to see his cousin, John, at the Jordan river. Jesus went there so that John could baptize him. The story’s pretty straight forward. John tells the people around him about the person who is coming after him who will baptize with fire. The Coming One is greater than John. In fact John said that he was not worthy to even untie the shoe of the Coming One.
Enter Jesus: stage left.
The two men talked a bit. Jesus indicated that he was there to be baptized. John, who apparently recognized Jesus as the Coming One, balked at Jesus’ request He told Jesus, “Whoa! No, no, no! I’m the one who should be baptized by You!”
Well, Jesus prevailed upon John so that John dunked Jesus in the Living Waters of the Jordan. When John brought Jesus up from the water, the story says that the Heavens opened and the Spirit descended in the form of a dove and lighted on Jesus. A voice from heaven said, “Behold, this is my Son, the Beloved in whom I am well pleased.”
Now, at first blush this looks like a pretty simple story. Right?
I’m not going to go into any detail here. You really don’t want me to turn my inner geek loose on you. It could get real ugly. Or, at least pretty boring.
What I do want to point out here is that when we start to ask questions about this story, the answers aren’t quite so simple.
Here’s an example: Why did Jesus need to be baptized by John? Hmmm…. Did Jesus need to be cleansed from sin? Most orthodox folks would freak out about even considering that!
As I studied this one question I found no less than 16 different possible answers. All of them viable. All of them considered by skilled and knowledgeable scholars. Yet, the answers were all over the place.
If one simple text, straight forward, no big issues with languages or other issues can elicit such wide variations in interpretations, how can we think that any of the other texts can be reduced to simple talking points?
The correct answer for those keeping score is, They can’t.
That’s why it’s so important to dig and ask and dig some more.
These sacred texts have been used and abused for millennia because people refuse to ask the hard questions. Or, worse, they refuse to listen to all of the possible answers before resorting to actions that, unfortunately, have done much more harm than good in many places.
The other part of why I’m so passionate about the Scriptures is to find the treasures that are life affirming and graciously full of God’s Love that are there for the diligent to find. I hope to show myself diligent in this labor of love that I’ve undertaken.
A vault impregnable, impervious, impossibly shut and locked Is the Heart of Humans. Desires, hopes, dreams, lusts and longings closed within it. Steel encased in concrete is like Butterfly wings compared with Its hardened walls of Flesh.
What kind of dark Humors reside therein? The swirling mist of “Myself.” Gazing always inward. Unable to see or imagine a world outside of Self-imposed confinement, Completely alone. Companionless.
There is One. Who has a Key.
Can we allow this One, With Pure motives To unlock the Vault? So that Light may enter unhindered And, “Myself” might “See”?
There is Hope That Freedom may penetrate And the Heart may become…
The first entry in Merriam-Webster defines Diversity as, “the condition of having or being composed of differing elements : VARIETY especially : the inclusion of different types of people (such as people of different races or cultures) in a group or organization.“
In today’s American culture wars diversity is considered by many people to be something evil that should be avoided at all costs. After all, if we achieve true diversity then White-Protestant hegemony would end. We can’t have that.
But, that’s a topic for another post.
This morning in the quiet hour before I had to get ready to go to work I considered diversity as it relates to our various faith communities. The reality of Euro-American dominance in the world raised its head and looked at me with its blood-red eyes. I have written about this as it relates to world missions before. The predominantly white North Atlantic Church has arrogantly forced its own cultural brand of Christianity on a world that neither wanted nor needed that. Yet, that Church still considers itself to be the Only Real True Church. Even today we send groups out into other cultures in order to form the people who are indigenous to those cultures into little versions of ourselves. Because we know best.
Well, we actually don’t.
We have lenses that color our vision. We only see what we want to see. People who are lacking. People who are missing out. People that We. Need. To. Save!
I think that there’s a better way.
I had the pleasure of studying under the Director of Black Church Studies at Ashland Theological Seminary, Dr. William H. Myers. Besides New Testament classes that I had with Dr. Myers, I also had the opportunity to study Womanist Hermeneutics with him. That is a way to read and understand the Scriptures taken from the point of view of African-American women. That class stretched me. I was the only white person in that class. So, it was a total immersion experience for me.
And, it was uncomfortable.
Not because of who I was. But, because of the lives of the women I met in that course. Women who lived as slaves in the U.S. South. Women who survived that hell only to find themselves buried neck deep in Jim Crow America. Women who raised families.
Women who found peace and solace in the White man’s Jesus.
How they did that was an amazing feat of faith and trust in God. They learned that God was not the provenance of the dominant culture. They learned that God sets captives free and leads those who love God to the Promised Land. They learned that God was above the status quo. They learned that God loved them.
Diversity.
I also learned about a man named Randy Woodley. He is descended from the United Keetoowah Band of Cherokee. Dr. Woodley has spent his life discovering the Creator God of all people. He is also a follower of Jesus who is learning how to understand the God of the Colonizers in a way that those who were colonized can love. He, and other Native Americans, work to, as Dr. Richard Twiss, himself a Native American, “Rescue the Gospel from the Cowboys.” These faithful followers of Christ have found that Jesus isn’t White and doesn’t wear a clerical collar.
Diversity.
I mention these things for one reason.
The Church needs these voices. We will die from inbreeding if we don’t listen to them. They have truth that the hearts and minds of the dominant culture simply don’t have. If we want to have life, and that abundantly, we must push back against those small minded culture warriors who think that there is only One Way to Live. Their way.
That’s a lie from the pit of hell. There are as many ways to live as there are people and cultures. And, there are just as many ways to follow Jesus.
Last week I wrote that this year, 2020, is not going to be like most other years. There are new things sitting on the horizon. If you squint just a little and tilt your head to the left a tad, you should be able to see them.
In just under three months I am going to enter the ranks of “Those Who You Used to Work.” Aka: Retired.
I began working in the printing industry 49 years ago. For those keeping score, that’s a loonngg time ago. Little did I know then, as I cleaned spray powder off the ceiling and pipes, that I would spend my entire adult life helping to push paper through machines. But, I have come from those first days of cleaning the overhead to sweeping floors and working in the warehouse, through helping on presses and nearly 45 years in prepress, to here today getting ready to say goodbye.
I have a lot of different feelings right now. So much has happened during the last nearly half century. Most of it good. Some time spent in the valley. But, that’s the way life is, right?
There is so much that I would like to write about. But, I am still processing some of this. Yeah, I’ve been planning for this for quite a while. That doesn’t change the feelings of anxiety and fear that lurk around the periphery of my heart and mind. It’s not until you etch the decision in stone that the reality of change begins to truly come into focus. As long as you’re talking about what’s coming it still has a fairy tale feel. But, when you actually bite into the apple and feel the truth coursing through your veins, well, let’s just say that it’s different. It’s real. This is actually happening.
What strange Majick is this? What Craft has loosed this power upon the Universe?
Tis not Majick that raises such music as this! Listen! The Mind gathers the elements which flow Freely through the vales that course through Its fertile folds and hillocks. Without incantation, wand, or spell, Sparks ignite within and current races through The tight weave of thought Forming, Sculpting, Creating.
Behold these words of mine! Like the Cosmos before them, Created Ex Nihilo. Meaning, Substance, Language!
The word comes from a Greek word that means, “appearance, or manifestation.”
We tend to use that word when a person comes to a sudden understanding or realization of the significance of some event or discovery. “Wow! I get it now!” he said as he grasped that moment of Epiphany.
There is another Epiphany that followers of Jesus celebrate today, January 6. This one looks to the revealing, or appearance, of Jesus as God Incarnate.
Here in the West we use the image of the Magi who traveled from the region where Eastern Iraq is now. They gathered gifts to present to the One whom they considered the new born King of the Jews. Traversing deserts and desolate routes, they led their caravan to a small, podunk town in the Province of Judea. When they arrived they fell down and worshiped Jesus. This was their Epiphany. They experienced the appearance and manifestation of God in the face of a young child.
The Eastern Church celebrates with remembering Jesus’ baptism in the Jordan River at the hands of His cousin, John. As Jesus came up out of the water, the Holy Spirit in the form of a dove descended upon Him and the Voice of the Father spoke revealing that Jesus was God’s Son. A Son in whom God was ‘well-pleased.’ In this act, this Epiphany, Jesus appeared to the World as the manifest Presence of God.
Here in the U.S. we don’t think too much about Epiphany as a religious holiday. We’re usually pretty busy cleaning up after the REAL holidays of Christmas and New Year. We get back to work and business-as-usual moaning about the fact that the next paid holiday for most of us is months away.
But, Epiphany? Yeah, who cares? I still have to go to work. School’s back in session. It’s no big deal.
What if we stopped for a moment and considered this event? Who is Jesus in the world today? Is He a child at His mother’s side holding a blanket? Excited, yet too young to understand why these strange men are standing around praising God and offering Him gifts? Or, is he a young man standing in the living waters of the Jordan, dripping from being immersed in the cool wetness of the river?
Well, yes and no.
Yes, Jesus was all of that and more. We celebrate the events that revealed Him to the World.
However, are we who follow in His footsteps not truly His Body right here; right now?
If His Body, then bearers of His Image and Presence.
We are, in a very real sense, the Epiphany of God today. We are God’s appearing and manifestation in our own culture.
