The theme of the sermon this past Sunday, “Try Again,” was taken from a book I am writing, a Christian pastoral response to global ecological change. In the book, the principle of try again relates to the manner in which God has set up our ecology. We are always given opportunities to stop polluting, to stop adding garbage to the floating island of plastic in the South Pacific, to continue to conserve water, to seek alternative ways of textile manufacturing and to reduce the amount of carbon being released into the atmosphere through large scale manufacturing and daily commutes. Each time we pollute, the earth responds, “Try again.” Each time I purchase a coffee with a non-recyclable cup, instead of using my reusable cup, the environment says, “Try again.” We get another opportunity, another season, to act with stewardship of the earth in order to fulfill God’s first command, “Let us make humankind in our image so they can care for creation.” (Gen 1:26)
I can expand the try again principle to summarize the Gospel message. Jesus told many people to try again – the disciples in the feeding of the 5,000 (“Send them away? No, try again. You feed them.”); the parable of the gardener whose tree didn’t produce fruit; Judas when he rebuked Mary for anointing Jesus’ feet with costly perfume; the men who dragged a woman caught in adultery to the feet of Jesus; Peter when he tried to walk on water, and when he rebuked Jesus, and when he wouldn’t let Jesus wash his feet, and when he drew his sword and cut of the ear of a servant, and when he denied that he knew Jesus. Each time, Jesus said, “Try again.” In the Old Testament, there are numerous stories in which God repeats the same phrase. Adam and Eve had two sons, Cain and Abel. Cain was sent away because he killed Abel. God, with tears in his eyes, said to the grieving first couple, try again. Moses tried to get the Israelites to revolt before God was ready; he killed an Egyptian guard expecting the Israelites to begin an uprising. They didn’t. He fled to a far-off country to tend sheep owned by his father-in-law. Decades later, he saw a burning bush. God spoke to him out of the bush, “Try again.” The great prophet Elijah ran away. He hid in a cave. God sent an earthquake, a windstorm, and a wildfire. Then, in the gentle breeze, Elijah heard God say, “Try again.” One joy of preaching is that I get to talk about a theological principle and then get feedback on it. The reaction to this message surprised me. Many folks said that God is telling them to respond to others with the phrase, try again. For instance, our lighting contractor is not getting the vision of what we want done in the sanctuary. Instead of dumping this contractor, I was reminded, “Shouldn’t we ask them to try again.” My older son told my younger son to try again (when he was frustrated about something). Here I was trying spread the good news of the Gospel that because God is full of grace and patience we get second chances when we mess up. Yet, just like our ecology does with us each time pollute, and as Jesus invites us each time we miss the mark, I was shown that following Christ means that we ought not to cut off others; rather, we should simply invite them to try again. -Fr. Dave I have been told that I look like my mom and act like my dad. I think about both of them many times a day but this Reflection is about him and how close we are. I recently described my dad as a combination of Mr. Rogers (of PBS fame) and the Man of Steel.
The Mr. Rogers nickname came from his high school biology students. He often wore cardigans, but it was temperance that earned him the nick name. Dad could instantly calm students down with his steadying demeanor and voice. Psychological studies have shown that the Reverend Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood (he was ordained Presbyterian pastor) calmed children and taught them important ethical constructs. In his neighborhood, children were allowed to be children – to play, to share, get angry and repent. He taught that children can choose to have a good path to follow, one that involves time to be serious, or funny, or sad, or angry, or happy and to forgive and be forgiven. Dad taught those same lessons in his classroom for 25 years, in the bookstore he and mom owned for more than two decades, and now, in retirement, still does. Dad has to be Superman. Seventeen years ago, and no longer a spring chicken, he joined a boxing club in Seattle. He has the sense not to spar with fighters in the ring, but plenty of punching bags fear him. Instead of jogging around Greenlake, Washington, he switched to in-line skates to save his knees which, alas, are not made of steel. He doesn’t like fast food or drinking soda, he eats very little meat, prefers raw vegetables and organic, plant-based sources of protein. As a child, I was playing one time with an old mixer and got my fingers caught in the blades. He dropped what he was doing and bent the blades apart with his bare hands in a true display of steel versus steel in which he prevailed. He chopped cords of wood for our stove, and could always remove the toughest bolt, carry the heaviest load of books, lift a transmission, and move whatever piece of furniture anyone needed moving. Here is one story of which I am not particularly proud but it shows how he is both Mr. Rogers and a Man of Steel. One day during my high school career, the angry boyfriend of a female friend of mine showed up on the doorstep of our home. My perception then and now is that he was an insecure body builder/high school student who misunderstood a note I had written to my female friend. Nonetheless, his eyes were blazing and he was intent on revenge with that high school self-righteousness we all know about. Dad talked to him on the porch, calmed him down, and sent him away. Later on, my female friend said that her boyfriend thought was dad was pretty cool and to tell him “hi” next time she sees him. Dad was my defender and calmer of angry spirits. Thinking of Dad has helped me keep my cool in difficult situations. Dad worked at the crosstown rival High School. In my senior year, we invited his High School to one of our dances. It was a hit. We had wall to wall students on the dance floor. Unfortunately, members of the football team bumped into each other. They took it outside. Dad followed as well as faculty members of both schools. The two students were arguing, well on their way to something more serious. Dad stepped in between them and told them to calm down. Someone from behind pushed one student into the other. It knocked Dad down. He bounced back up, held the boys apart and told everyone to go back inside. Because they saw Dad go down and get right back up, everyone retreated. Dad: defender, calmer and protector. Two weeks ago, I made a solo trip to Seattle to visit with him and mom. Dad had kidney cancer in 1986. A surgeon removed the diseased kidney and Dad kept on going. A little over a decade ago he was afflicted with thyroid cancer. The doctors removed his thyroid and he kept on going. Five years ago, we found out he has lung cancer which was more or less behaving itself and not growing. A year ago, the kidney cancer returned, this time in his lungs. A lot of people think that cancer in the lungs is lung cancer—that is not necessarily so. Kidney cancer can metastasize to the lungs and when it does it is kidney cancer of the lungs, not lung cancer. So, Dad is now in the middle of a six-month chemo treatment for the kidney cancer. The cancer is irritating to his lungs. Internally they are producing mucus and the exterior of his lungs are filling with fluid. While I was in Seattle, his pulmonologist removed two liters of fluid trapped in his chest cavity (inside the rib cage and above the diaphragm). Imagine having two liters of soda sharing space in your chest with your heart and lungs. It caused him great difficulty in breathing; five steps would leave him winded. He had to stop in the middle of sentences to catch his breath. It had been eight months since I had seen him. The boxing, jump roping, in-line skating, box of books carrying man had changed. He was still dad. But physically, the change was dramatic in a way that I can only explain tearfully. Words escape me to tell you how it felt; when I try, I become the one who can’t breathe. But since this Reflection is about him, and not about me, let me get back to the topic. Despite his medical condition, Dad is still the Man of Steel/Mr. Rogers. When we went to the hospital to have the fluid removed, he was more concerned about those who were poking him with needles, weighing him, and checking his vitals, than he was about himself. Dad’s steeliness comes from a faith that shapes his ethics. He truly endeavors to love God with all his heart and to love his neighbor as himself. Even when his heart and lungs are being squished by excess fluid, he fills himself with love for God and God’s creation and creatures. In fact, through these tears, I can witness to you that I’ve never seen my dad stronger then when he was getting winded talking to the hospital staff. His bravery for taking each day as it comes, his insistence to care for mom, and all of us, with each labored breath, shows his steeliness. He is at his strongest when he allows others to care for him. Some might ask, like the doubters at the crucifixion, “Where is your God?” when they see Dad, once a physically strong man, weakened by cancer. Jesus gave up his last breath for others – “Father, forgive them,” he said. Dad is following Jesus by using what might be his last breaths in this life to help others as he has always done. So, “Where is my God?” I see God through Dad’s conviction and faith, through Dad’s concern for others even when by all rights he should be concerned about himself. That is truly the Man of Steel I know and emulate in order to show my children and the people I pastor how to follow Jesus. Dad, the teacher, is revealing to anyone who cares to look how to live in grace and peace with lung cancer. Even with shallow breath, like Mr. Rogers and Jesus, Dad is still teaching us that all are welcome in His neighborhood. Epilogue: After the removal of the fluid as described above, Dad took his dog for a fifteen-minute walk. We will see in a few months whether or not the chemo is working. I will update you then. Prayer works and I ask that you pray for John and my mom Nancy. God may not be done with him just yet. -Fr. Dave As a way to reject the culture of advertising that has wrapped me, and our society, up in a tight bind of consumerism and competition pitting neighbor against neighbor, I vowed during the Church season of Lent to purchase nothing new or eat at restaurants that advertised. This list included keeping my old smart phone running and avoiding my self-indulgent visits to Starbucks and my weekly Sunday morning iced coffee at McDonalds.
Over the past 40 days, I have slipped a couple of times. The first week I made a non-grocery purchase at Costco. What troubled me is that I did it without thinking. A couple of weeks later, I had a clergy meeting at a Starbucks. Instead of getting just water, I did, in fact, order an iced coffee. Those failures remind me of a mantra from AA, relapse is a part of recovery. Case in point, waiting at SeaTac airport last week, I walked by no less than four Starbucks while feeling I deserved a pick me up. I think previous failures helped my resolve to do better when the temptation was high and I did not succumb. Now at the conclusion of Lent, I am concerned about re-entry into the consumer world. At summer camp, we would be without candy for 10 days during which fruit tasted sweeter and better. After camp, I’d eat a lot of candy to make up for lost time and fruit then didn’t seem so attractive. If experience is a guide does that mean I am going to double up on iced coffee purchases? Will I buy more new things than I need? Like alcoholics in recovery, I don’t want to go back. I have had my little relapses and am ready for full recovery. During Lent, I discovered an idol in my heart called iDeserve. It was a hole that tempted me to buy things because I deserve it. It’s a sneaky little idol that jumps out at me, like when I’m in line at the grocery store. It whispers, “Come on, pick up that candy bar, you deserve it.” If left unchecked, I might find myself at a Range Rover dealership, because iDeserve said so. Jesus has filled in that place where the idol used to be. I don’t want Christ to diminish now that Lent is ending. In fact, I want him to increase. Yet, I have self-doubts. Maybe Lent isn’t long enough. Maybe I have not set up strong enough defenses. Or maybe I can rationalize my old habits. But Easter can also be the beginning of recognition as to when our consumeristic culture has taken hold of my heart and Easter can be an escape route from it. Because of Jesus’ love and his example of resisting temptation, I think I can resist if I follow in his footsteps. However, I have lingering questions. Can I buy a new smart phone to replace my failing and aged one and resist feeling superior to others? Will I be able to purchase a drink at Starbucks and not think I am more special than the person who doesn’t have one? Can I resist being swayed by commercials for large restaurant chains and eat at locally owned establishments? It is my choice. I can retreat back to old familiar ways. Or, I can continue my Lenten practice and follow Jesus through every season in the Church calendar. I want to do better because I want to serve him better and idols get in the way of that resolve. Returning to that AA mantra, I can accomplish nothing in the way of improvement without the help of God. -Fr. Dave Have you ever been involved in a class action lawsuit? Many of us have and often involuntarily. From deceptive advertising claims by the shoe company Sketchers, to the famous case of Airborne that claimed to give you immunity from colds, to the additive Olestra used in potato chips to make them zero fat – but which also caused incredible stomach cramping, class actions are useful to get companies to change deceptive or dangerous practices. Some however, are frivolous and benefit the lawyers that bring the case rather than the people who have been harmed or cheated.
My Google newsfeed sent me a story about a class action lawsuit for the PlayStation 3 – a gaming console produced by Sony. Ethan bought one a few years back from a store that sells used devices. We use it for video games, DVDs, Netflix and YouTube. When the PlayStation 3 (PS3) came out, the U.S. Air Force took 1,700 of them, linked them together, and used them as a server for demonstration purposes in place of their air traffic control. According to the suit, the PS3 was advertised as being like a computer. Some units came with an OS port; the next wave did not. The suit alleges Sony misled consumers by removing the OS port and not telling anyone the units were no longer like the ones the Air Force linked. The law firm was paid 400k. Consumers can each receive a check for $65. I was intrigued. This seemed like an easy $65 check for Ethan. But, as they say, the devil was in the details. The three pages of paperwork say I have to agree to a number of things. First, the PS3 must have been purchased through an “authorized retailer.” While our store was an authorized retailer, we bought it used. I did not like the implications of saying we bought it from an authorized dealer. It seemed like a lie. Second you had to say you saw advertisements claiming the PS3 is a computer. I don’t remember seeing such advertising. Third, you had to want the OS port. That was not true for us. Fourth, you must state that if you knew before hand it didn’t have an OS port, you wouldn’t have purchased it. Again, not true for us. The ethical dilemma? The only point for which we qualify is that Ethan’s PS3 doesn’t have the OS port. Here are the facts. The law firm received a whole bunch of money and is having a hard time finding claimants. The expiration date is April 15. Sony is a huge company. They messed up by removing the port and not telling consumers that they did. $65 is a nice windfall for a 15-year-old. So what’s the big deal. Here’s the problem. By applying for the money, we would have to enter misleading, if not false, information on the claim form. And, Ethan’s dad during Lent is buying nothing new. Can I rationalize that I get to reap the benefits of an advertising mishap? Alas, that’s not the deal. Would anyone know? No. Would Sony really care? Probably not. But someday I will be face to face with God who sees a lot more than Sony. God will know that I took an ethical, albeit small, side step to win a $65 judgment. Jesus asks us, “What good is it to gain the whole world and lose your soul in the process.” If this money was needed to pay our mortgage, or put food on the table, it might be a different story. But we’ve been blessed. I don’t need to trade a small part of my soul to get the check from Sony. They can keep their money and I can keep myself unstained in this small way from the world. Sounds like a good trade to me. -Fr. Dave Do you find it odd the second commandment is to not make an idol? The first, I am the Lord your God, have no other gods but me, makes sense. But the second, make no idols, makes God sound jealous and a bit insecure. After all, if we follow the first command, then why would we need the second?
Let’s face it, humans like to make idols. When the New Testament was being written, there were many idols for many gods. The people would put their faith into hand-made idols one – some for healing, others for abundant crops, some for fertility and so on. As people learned about Jesus, they wanted to bring their idols along; but, they were told to abandon them. A study of Egyptian history shows a cavalcade of idols and statues of both earthly and heavenly gods. The framers of the Constitution knew human nature so they prohibited kings and the idolization of the President. George Washington, who could have won a third presidential election, declined to run because some wanted to make him King. I went to a college founded by the Order of St. Benedict. Starting in the early sixth century, Benedict’s rule of life has two major parts: letting go of earthly belongings and living a life of prayer and labor. My favorite professor, Fr. Killian, is an avid runner. At least once a year, his family would send him a new pair of running shoes. He would take the Nike box, hand it to his Abbot and say, “This is an offering for our community.” The Abbot would inspect the contents and say, “The community is best served by your wearing these so that you may run with Jesus.” The monks lived an idealized, not an idolized, life. Jesus gave Benedict the idea that one can live in harmony with nature, God, and humanity by rejecting consumeristic impulses, doing labor for God, and praying often. They lived into St. Peter’s blessing, May grace and peace by yours in abundance. (1 Peter 1:2) The fewer possessions, the more peace and grace they had. I want to tell you that because I have purchased nothing new for thirty-two days, and have turned away from McDonalds, Starbucks (except once), and other food establishments that advertise, I have grace and peace in abundance. But that’s not true. I am unsettled because I have discovered other idols in my heart. My phone needs rebooting/cache cleaning daily now. I am counting the days until Easter so I can buy a new one. I looked at used models, which, by my own Lenten rule, I could buy today. Yet, here are my idols – I feel like I deserve a new phone. I have lived for three years with a used Note 4 and it’s time for something nice for myself. … because I deserve it. And I “deserve a break today” at McDonalds. And I deserve Starbucks. My idol is the “I Deserve” syndrome. It’s like I have erected a statue in my heart called iDeserve. It’s insatiable. The idol whispers, “Come on, you work hard, you’re self-less, you deserve this.” The truth is I am a servant of the Lord and servants don’t deserve special thanks for doing what they are supposed to do. (Luke 17:9) I am starting to turn away from the iDeserve idol and know that God will meet our every need out of the riches of God’s glory that is found in Jesus. (Phil 4:19) As a result of the identifying and turning away, I have received an abundance of God’s grace. I have an abundance of peace with the knowledge that I don’t get what I deserve because of my sin; instead, I receive God’s love. My prayer is that you be filled with God’s grace and peace in abundance this Lenten season. -Fr. Dave As Lent slogs on, I am learning more about my desire to purchase things; the overall picture is not flattering. A new GMC SUV zoomed past me this morning on Telegraph Canyon. It was a boring grey, rather boxy and uninspiring. Yet, I noticed a paper license plate indicating it is brand new. I thought, I wonder what the owner of that new vehicle saw in it. Oh, they must have gotten a good deal. Yes, the art of the good deal. Going back to my un-Lenten purchase of a fancy stainless steel, touchless open, kitchen garbage can, it was a good deal and I wanted to get it before the sale ran out (or before someone else took mine). As my readers know, I have resolved not to buy anything new during Lent to confront our pervasive advertising culture and to step back from competing with my neighbor. Advertising makes us feel in competition with one another. At the heart of this competition is the art of the good deal. It’s a good deal if everyone else bought it for X price; but, if you can get it for less than X everyone before you is a chump and you are one savvy shopper. So it boils down to a lie the ego buys into, purchasing makes you happier and will make you better than others.
When I was selling audio/video devices, people would ask for “a good deal.” One shopper, interested in a particular product that was so popular we could hardly keep it in stock, asked for a bargain and announced, “I only buy things at a discount.” I asked, “Why do you deserve a better price than everyone else.” He huffed and walked away. That is his rule of life. I wonder if he shows people around his house and announces how much of a discount he received for each item without realizing he is showing off to the very people he is competing with. Speaking of good deals, I am the guy who reaches past the first gallon of milk to get the one behind. I look for the newest tag on a loaf of bread and search for the freshest carrots. I justify my actions because I have seen how much grocery stores throw away in expired products. Yet, this searching may be a result of my competitive shadow side. Ego again? In most cases, the first item I touch is just fine. Have you ever found a seat on an airplane and then wondered how much each person paid for their ticket? Knowing my shadow-side, I would like to hear what everyone paid so I could see how I rank. I do not think we need to institute a communist style pricing structure – I am simply exploring my need to get a good deal and how my ego’s need can get in the way of loving my neighbor as much as myself. This Lenten practice is causing me to explore areas of myself I’d rather not look at. Nevertheless, my shadow-side is known to Jesus; and he loves me despite my consumeristic competitive tendencies. St. Paul wrote that we – you and I – were purchased by a price from God, therefore, do not get enslaved to others. (1 Cor 7:23) I’d add that Paul says we shouldn’t become slaves to the good deal, or the competition it takes to find it. Jesus didn’t look for the best deal when he bought us, nor can we produce a result worthy of the purchase. Yet, because of God’s Grace, we are loved and accepted for who we are. No bargaining, competition, or comparison is required. -Fr. Dave The message at Saint John’s this past Sunday was it’s okay if you are not okay. I think there was a time in recent Church history when people went to church out of obligation to keep up appearances. That time has passed. The Church today is for the sick, the tired, the overwhelmed, the unsure, the scared and lonely.
There are many things I am not okay with – starting with gun violence, and the same old reactions that do nothing more than entrench and divide. I am not okay with the number of children dying from the flu. I am not okay with reports that police officers are being shot on and off duty. I am not okay with how uncivilized we Americans have become to those who hold differing opinions. Yet, I am okay to worship God, believe and acknowledge that God has the whole world in his hands, and still admit that I’m not okay about this stuff. I am not okay with the pervasive and unending consumerist messages I receive on a daily basis. For Lent, I am taking a long hard look at why I want to buy new things. The inescapable message of our day is this – if I’m not feeling okay, buying something will make me feel okay. That’s a lie, but it’s repeated enough that I sometimes believe it. Or used to believe it, or am trying not to believe it. Nevertheless, I’m not okay with it. While I have been typing, I have received an email from Costco about their latest deals, and from Best Buy about smart phone deals. My phone, a Samsung Note 4 has been acting up. The battery is draining faster, the first couple minutes of a phone call can best be described as sputtering, and loading apps is difficult. My theory is that each time Samsung comes out with a new phone, they send updates to the older models that slow them down. (Incidentally, the S9 is about to be available in stores. When does Lent end again?) Apple was found guilty of this practice last year when suddenly older model iPhones started having battery troubles. What I am not okay about is that the trick worked. I started looking up replacement phones. I compared the Note 8 to the S9 to the Pixel II. Suddenly I’m getting emails about phones. My dad is the champion of making things work that others would just as soon replace. When he was a teacher, he didn’t give up on students that others deemed a waste of time. I can do house and car repairs because he taught me the value of investigating and fixing instead of replacing. I checked for articles about what to do if your phone is slowing down. There are fixes that helped. My phone is better and an $800 replacement pushed toward the horizon. Would I have simply replaced if it wasn’t Lent? The price tag is too much so probably not. But, I would have let it haunt me for a while. I would have given it space in my brain and then felt bad about myself because I can’t underwrite a new phone when other bills are coming due. Jesus doesn’t give up on us, or replace us for better models. When phones break, promotions fall through, layoffs happen, addictions tear us down, when break-ups and divorce occur, God doesn’t abandon us. In fact, when others want replacements, God seems to be even closer. I imagine the devil sends Jesus all sorts of advertisements and temptations about creating something new, but the Gospel message is clear – God works with what he’s got, makes all things new, and restores us to being okay again. -Fr. Dave I have announced that I intend to buy nothing new during Lent. Buying nothing new is difficult. In fact, I have failed at least once. On Presidents’ Day, I bought a kitchen garbage can at Costco, the type that opens automatically with a simple swipe of the hand. My wife was not up for the trip; we had looked at it before Lent and intended to buy it once we had done our research so the responsibility fell on my shoulders. The problem is not so much that I bought it but rather I did it without thinking that it is Lent. I am starting to realize that buying new things is a somewhat automatic reflex.
Proverbs chapter 17, verse 1, reads, “Better is a dry morsel with quiet, than a house full of feasting with strife.” A contemporary version is this, “Better is a dry crust of bread eaten in peace and quiet than a feast eaten where the family argues.” Are we not supposed to give children food they want to eat and surround them with the latest technology to make them happy? Are we not as parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, supposed to give good things to our children? So says our consumer culture but Scriptures say no. It is better to have a dry morsel of food to eat with a family that is peaceful and quiet than to give children whatever they want and have arguments. We had many shared meals in Russia but the families did not provide a feast. And, at the center of each table was dry, dark rye Russian bread. I don’t remember much about the food but I do remember the peace and quiet of sharing it knowing God was present with us. Rye bread brings me back to those tables even today. A parishioner told me about a dinner encounter this past week at a local nice, sit-down restaurant. A family of four (mom, dad, two kids) came in and once they were settled, out came two iPads for the kids and two phones for the parents. As far as my parishioner could tell, they talked to the waitress but not to each other. It was a feast (in fact, it may have been advertised as “A family feast for 4”), and it was quiet, but I wonder if it was peaceful. As I write this, I am trying not to compare myself to them. When I was in 6th grade, I was taught, and expected on occasion, to order for my entire family at a restaurant – starting with Mom first, then Dad, my brother and then myself. The look of surprise on the server’s face was always fun. The look of surprise on my face when she handed me the bill was another. We didn’t eat out very often, mainly for special occasions or once when the power went out. My parents brought things for my brother and me to entertain ourselves and I am certain that if iPads existed back then, we would have had them. But, we also were expected to communicate, to commune, with each other. Our advertising culture singles us out and makes us want things to satisfy ourselves; it makes us believe we can have a feast and peace at the same time. But we can’t. It’s a lie. You know, I don’t remember much about the food we shared as a family but I do remember the communing. It could have been a dry morsel of bread for all I remember. The important thing was the fellowship and peace. -Fr. Dave Last year I wrote that fasting is one of the hardest spiritual practices for me because I like food. As an alternative, I suggested what Pope Francis had outlined in a recent article. As I wrote earlier, I’d like to fast from advertising which is rather pollyannic since advertising is so pervasive in my social and economic circle. Besides, the point of fasting in Lent is to identify ways that we are pulled from God and then do something that brings us to a closer relationship with our Creator. Advertising pulls me away from communion with God by replacing that relationship with things/desires/tastes; it also pulls me away from loving my neighbor by creating competition with what they have compared to what I have. As previously noted, I do feel superior to others when I carry around a Starbucks coffee. However, I noticed that when I carry around my reusable shiny metal Starbucks 20-ounce container, I still feel loftier than those who do not have one. Last week, while in line at a Starbucks with a parishioner, I couldn’t help but feel better than the people who were using landfill cups. I’m sorry about it; but it’s true. As such, I am going to avoid going to Starbucks for 40 days and 40 nights and I will put duct tape over the symbol to see if that does the trick. Also, I am going to start writing about what it’s like to buy nothing new until Easter. Look for it on my Facebook page.
In the tradition that Pope Francis wrote his list (Fast from hurting words – say kind words; Fast from sadness – be filled with gratitude; Fast from pessimism – be filled with hope), here is my 2018 list. Fast from desire – God provides everything. Fast from the easiness of fast food – It took God 7 days to create. Fast from disquiet about politics – God is in charge of everything. Fast from the lure of selfishness – Jesus became like a servant to set us free. Fast from thinking better about myself – God knows the heart of everyone. Fast from the thrill of Starbucks – Remember Jesus was in the desert for 40 days. Fast from obsessing about the news – God has the whole world in his hands. Fast from wanting more – pray for people who have less; much, much less. Come to think of it, I should fast from these things for an entire year, not just Lent. - Fr. Dave A clergy friend of mine wrote something that has struck a chord in me. Fr. Mike Flynn wrote that the closer we get to Jesus, the quieter he speaks which necessitates that we constantly listen and have dicey faith so that we are persuaded by his small still voice.
It is reported in all four Gospels that Jesus went to quiet places to pray. Since no one has ever been closer to God than Jesus it behooves us to pay attention to his habits. What if, for example, Jesus went to desolate and quiet places simply to enjoy the intimacy of his relationship with the Creator. I imagine it this way – there are two ways I know what I am thinking. One is to talk to someone in order to bounce ideas off them. They often sound very different on the rebound. The other is to sit quietly by myself to think and listen and draw as close as I can to the Creator and Sustainer. Maybe Jesus was the same and would either bounce ideas off other people or go off to quiet places to think and talk to the Holy Undivided Trinity. The Gospels give examples of Jesus doing both of those. Back to the main issue – the closer one is to Jesus, the quieter he speaks. This means those who are far off hear him well and those who are near do not. That is not how we, as humans, like things. I never imagine the prophet Isaiah having a hard time hearing God speak. Jeremiah, Noah, even Jonah, seemed to hear God loud and clear. Yet, based on Fr. Flynn’s principle, they too, like you and me, must be intentional when listening to God. Moses had to go up to Mt. Sinai for 40 days to hear God’s voice. That is a long time to spend alone with anyone. But that is how close Moses was to God. The great prophet Elijah had to spend time in the wilderness by himself to hear God. He was in a cave and heard hurricane force winds but knew God was not in the wind. He went through a massive wildfire but knew that God wasn’t in the fire. He survived a giant earthquake but knew God was not in the shaking of the ground. Then, he heard a soft whisper in a gentle breeze. He left the protection of the cave and listened for the Lord. (1 Kings 19:11-13) I imagine Mother Teresa in conversation with God. You would think she was so close to God that she could hear him easily. As it turns out, based on the Flynn principle and on what she herself reported, she had to strain to hear God the same as you and I. That also means the so-called holy people of our day have to really pay attention to what God is saying because his voice is so quiet to them. This is a humbling principle. I think that God speaks loudly to folks we call new Christians. They’re on fire for the Lord. But the closer they draw, the softer Jesus speaks which might lead to discouragement. I know folks who have entered AA and clearly heard God. But, the more steps they took, and the longer they lived into their sobriety, the quieter Jesus spoke. I certainly experienced this in seminary. I heard Jesus quite well during my discernment. But then, during my three-year formation, the voice of Jesus got softer and softer. It’s nice to know if Jesus’ voice is still and quiet, it’s not that I’m not drifting from Jesus, rather he is inviting me to get closer to hear. During very difficult times in ministry, I feel close to Jesus as if I am sitting at a small coffee shop table with him. Yet, in those intimate times, Jesus beckons me to come closer and speaks in a whisper. As we live into a holy Lenten season by letting go of things that hold us from a closer walk with God, we should at the same time practice listening for that soft whisper on a gentle breeze. -Fr. Dave |