theological (sometimes) reflections from an educated hillbilly, father, husband, backyard farmer, point of view all the while serving pound for pound the best American Baptist Church in the land.
25 December 2010
Christmas Eve Sermon: When Hope and History Rhyme
When Hope and History Rhyme
text: “…from this time onward and evermore.” (Isaiah 9:7)
Isaiah 9:2-7; Psalm 97; Titus 2:11-15 & Luke 2:1-20
Christmas Eve 2010 6:00pm
The Rev’d G. Travis Norvell
Lord take our hands and work through them
Take our eyes and see through them
Take our minds and think through them
And take our hearts and set them on fire. Amen
Easter is the magical morn; Christmas Eve is the magical night. Only an angel or two shared the Resurrection; on Christmas night a multitude of the heavenly host along with the angel of the Lord sang in the birth of the Messiah. On Easter only three women reported the empty tomb; on Christmas night the shepherds in the field, the magi from the east, and the animals in the manger witnessed when the days were accomplished that Mary delivered the babe. The aura of this night is puzzling to say the least, for this night neither attained significance in the early church nor major status in the medieval church. Christmas as we know it is a modern phenomena. We can have Christianity without Christmas but not without Easter. Why then does this night above all nights still remain a high day in our religious sensibilities? Why does this night possess more promise than Easter morn? Why did the heavenly host sing with gusto? Why did men drop their livelihood and come to the manger? Why did nature honor the occasion with a new celestial body? Why does this night cause the range of emotions to well up within us? Why is this promise so prevalent tonight?
Every Sunday is a small “e” Easter; we continually celebrate God’s honoring of Jesus’s life by Resurrecting him with a strong hand, and with a stretched out arm. Only once a year do we celebrate a birth with all the promises of new life wrapped in swaddling clothes. Once a year the promises of new life once again cross the threshold, once again you and I and all of creation have another chance with the retelling of this story. Once a year our lives are reset: with the hope this year will be better than the last, this year there will be no deaths, this year love will flower, this year I will laugh more than cry, this year, this year will not be so damn difficult. That is the hope of Christmas, once a year we are reminded of not just of new life in the presence of the babe but of transformed life in the presence of the Christ.
In the 1960s before he died the theologian Paul Tillich proposed that we place a 100 year moratorium on Christian terms: love, God, salvation, grace, & etc. But he did not, whether intentional or happenstance, include peace. Perhaps peace was too important a word to cease using. Tillich knew the horrors of war; he was a chaplain in World War I; he said stated indeed there were atheists in foxholes.
Peace was too important to let go. Peace, I offer is what has brought us all here this evening because of the promise and prospect of peace; real peace both now and forever more. For in the birth of this child was the peace of God made incarnate, helpless, vulnerable, powerless, exposed, unprotected, and defenseless. Which simply means if peace is to come in our lives, if peace is to reign then we must help usher it in, care, nurture, cultivate, tend, foster, support and raise Peace within our hearts, within our homes, within our churches, and within our world. To put it more succinctly: on Christmas we are reminded that our lives matter and are needed for an approximation kingdom of God to come in our lives. On Christmas we are reminded that we are not automatons simply waiting for godot. On Christmas we are reminded that God did not create us without a greater purpose in mind. On Christmas we are reminded that the prospect and practice of peace is not out of step with the world but that the world is out of step with the Christian message. On Christmas we are reminded of why, as translated by William Tyndale, And straight way there was with the angel a multitude of heavenly soldiers, lauding God, and saying: Glory to God on high, and peace on the earth: and unto men rejoicing.
This promise, this imaginative prospect, this generative poem was not written on the shores of calm waters but in the midst of a living hell. It was wrought out the inevitable destruction of the northern kingdom of Israel and the southern kingdom as well. The thundering army of Assyria was surely on the way, the sure event of defeat and destruction was given. Would Israel surrender and become a vassal state? Would Israel align with other nations and mount a defense? Or would Israel trust in God and God alone?
Under these austere auspices the prophet Isaiah received his call and worked out his salvation. He was the one who spoke the word of the Lord, both uplifting and damning to the kings and people of Israel. The message of peace was clear throughout his message: swords beaten into plowshares, spears turned into pruning hooks, wolf and lamb, child and asp lying down together, and as tenor sang in the “The Messiah,” When every valley shall be exulted, every mountain and hill made low, the crooked straight, the rough places plain.
At one point it appeared the message of peace would prevail when Hezekiah was made king in 729 BCE. He was keen on religious reform, progressive thought, and engineering aptness. Upon his mantle the southern kingdom placed their summation of hope: For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace. Notice that the personal names are for God who will perform this through this person, they are not prescribed for the person. Hezekiah by all measures for kings was a great king, he ruled from 729-686 BCE but he did not live up to his promise. In 705 saw an opening in the Assyrian armor as his chance for Israel’s freedom. He entered into alliances with Egypt and Ethopia to counter Assyria. The prophet Isaiah went nutso. For three years he walked barefoot and naked as a symbol of what would happen to Israel if she entered into alliance with Egypt and Ethopia to fight Assyria. The message worked during Hezekiah’s time but the bond of trust had been broken. This act set off a series of complicated and historical events which led to the eventual destruction of the southern kingdom in 586 BCE when the inhabitants of Jerusalem were led off in chains to Bablyon.
The description and promise of Hezekiah would lay dormant for roughly 800 years until the early church began searching for the right words to describe the one whom God resurrected. Their words did not emerge from the shores of calm waters, as a people subjective to Roman occupation they searched for a proper way to not only describe and define but interpret they turned to the generative poems, primarily, of the prophet Isaiah. For Jesus was not the normal “ruler.” He did not participate in the warrior myth, he was not a general who led troops into battle. Ponder this for a moment not only was Jesus not a warrior but none of Apostles or members of the early church were warriors. Christianity was not an armed movement. It did not seek blood.
The authors of the gospels turned to Isaiah and woke up the dormant words for Hezekiah and transformed them as the titles to describe Jesus as Lord, and with the choir from The Messiah we sing: For unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given, and the government shall be upon His shoulder; and His name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The Mighty God, The Everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace. Or as John Wycliff’s disciples in the late 14th century would translate directly from the Latin Vulgate, Forsothe a litil child is borun to vs, and a sone is youun to vs, and prinsehod is maad on his schuldre; and his name schal be clepid Wondurful, A counselour, God, Strong, A fadir of the world to comynge, A prince of pees.
Isaiah’s poetry funded a Christian imagination of non-violence & peace for the new world to come. This book emboldened the creativity of an embryonic movement to see a greater vision. The prophet Isaiah enabled them to see beyond the war torn and crushing occupation of Rome, beyond the defeat Rome at all costs voices. Isaiah gave them the necessary imaginative seeds to proceed on with a non-violent movement. Christianity at its core has been, is, and always will be a non-violent movement heaven bent on changing the world, heaven-bent on making real a new reign of peace.
Every Christmas we are reminded once again that God’s Son, our Saviour is a Prince of Peace, whose kingdom is always but coming, and whose way on this earth is non-violent.
Yes there are wars and rumors of war. Yes there is still an enmity between you and I, between nations, between tribes, betweens clans, between peoples everywhere. Yes, nations need to be able to defend themselves. Yes, this is a troubling world with people who possess a singular vision to eliminate elements of western society. Yes, this is a fragile world with nuclear arsenals abounding and in production by unreasonable regimes. But is our only salvation to the world an eye for an eye? Our times were no different than those of Isaiah and of the New Testament – they were just as fragile and just as warring and yet they still had the confidence, albeit wavering confidence for sure but confidence nonetheless, in a greater vision then what they saw in their world: a greater vision for peace, real peace both now and forever more.
Our vision of peace is not passive, inactive, and acquiescent it is active, engaged and aggressive. Christian peace is not even the cessation of war or violence between people or nations. The angels did not raise their voices, the heavens did not create a new star and we are not gathered to celebrate a worthless vision of peace. Christian peace is in the words of the Apostle Paul, a more excellent way. Christian peace is the practice and implementation of the healing of the nations, of bridging the enmity between you and I, between you and God, and between you and yourself. It is about the increase of love of God, neighbor, and self. Christian peace is about praying for those who persecute us and loving our enemies both personally and abroad. It is about changing this world from the inside out. It is the active seeking out and practice of reconciliation, of healing the brokenness in our own souls and in the world we inhabit.
On Christmas we are reminded of the vision of Christ’s peace and the invitation to participate in its fulfillment. What is needed is a new human being, a new Adam, a non-violent way of life.
As World War I approached Harry Emerson Fosdick, the pastor of FBC Montclair, NJ, eagerly volunteered to promote the war effort. He traveled from coast to coast preaching at every fort and training facility he could to promote the war and civic duty of armed service. Then he took a trip to Europe before the armistice; he saw the blood soaked barren land of the Western front, the gas stained trenches, and the mutilated corpses thrown in mass graves. Upon his return to the US he vowed never again to be a pawn for war and worked like mad for peace. His stance was put to the test when the drums of WWII began to beat Fosdick angered the majority of his congregation, Riverside Church NYC, with his pacifism and calls for peace. We connect to his devotion to peace each instance we sing the second verse to God of Grace and God of Glory,
Cure your children’s warring madness,
Bend our pride to your control.
Shame our wanton selfish gladness,
Rich in things and poor in soul. Grant us wisdom, grant us courage,
Lest we miss your kingdom’s goal. Lest we miss your kingdom’s goal
For weeks and months and years the voice of violence, might is right, and war get the upper hand but for one night for one glorious and majestic night of Christmas, let us mimic the birth of our Saviour, let the message of peace seep into your heart, let it sneak into your consciousness, let it arrive unannounced into soul until you and I and all of the heavenly multitude sing in one accord, Peace on Earth, Peace on Earth, Peace on Earth.
Amen and Amen.
15 November 2010
Stewardship Sermon
Psalm 100 & Ezra 5:6-17
14.November.2010
Brothers and Sisters the Lord be with you.
And also with you.
Let us pray:
God of wisdom and life grant that we your children might know the vastness of your love, that your love has no end, that your grace can never be consumed, that you center is everywhere and your circumference is yet to be discovered so that we might live in this world as your children: loved, graced, forgiven, transformed, and healed. But Lord just as we seek not to take you for granted do not take us for granted either. We need thee, every hour we need thee. Do not hide your love, do not assume we will know about you and your love for us. In this moment come to us, speak to us through the scriptures and through life both now and forevermore. Amen.
If some authoritarian body were to write an official memo on church life today it would look something like this:
To Those Who Still Bother.
On average those in your situation close their doors at the rate of 75 a week or 4,000 per year. On average at the rate of 52,000/week of those who make up your houses of worship walk away from church altogether or 2.7 million per year. The median of those who still bother to worship is 75 a Sunday and their clergy are part-time. Of those who still bother to give 17% say they really tithe but only 3% actually tithe, the rest contribute 2.6% of their after tax income. Finally of those who still bother the recent Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life revealed atheists and agnostics know more than you about scripture and religious practices in America.
Good Luck.
J. Walter Knowitall
I am sure a similar memo was delivered to the Israelites after the Babylonian Exile. Their city was destroyed, their temple lay in charred ruins, there was in fighting between those who returned from exile and those who remained, there were those who said forget it and there were those who wanted more than anything to enter his courts with thanksgiving and praise. Eventually the Temple was built and with it Jerusalem was re-established. In the midst of the rebuilding project some Persian emmisaries asked the Israelites what on earth they were doing. They simply responded, “We are the servants of the God of heaven and earth, and we are rebuilding the house that was built many years ago…”
Last year our theme for our stewardship campaign was survival, simply put this church made it! Despite the storm, despite the loss of members, despite the loss of income, despite all of it, despite the discussions whether close up shop and relocate or dissolve, despite the uncertainty of the future of the city this church made it…and had the fortitude, courage, and audacious hope to call a new pastor. Now what?
Now what? This year I offer the Israelites’s answer as our answer, “We are the servants of the God of heaven and earth, and we are rebuilding the house that was built many years ago…”
Brothers and Sisters I ask that we live our lives and dedicate our hearts as if we didn’t get the memo, that we didn’t get the word that churches like this are not supposed to grow, succeed, or thrive. Churches like this are not supposed to focus on evangelism, stewardship, youth groups, small groups, prayer circles, reaching out to young professionals, build with and for college students, hopes a certain quarterback yearns some morning for his Baptist roots, logging in hours feeding the hungry, speaking up for the voiceless, basic Christian education, & etc. But that is exactly what we are going to have to do to get this ship moving.
We can all assert and assess that our sights are above the horizon, all signs are pointing upward: new members, increase in giving, and general sense of gonna make it.
We can all assert and assess that the needs are vast and numerous as we move forward. My thought it is to use every creative angle I can to network and leverage help and aide for this church. That means foundation grants, underwriting of programs and positions, seminary and college interns. I am going to lean on you for connections and support. I am going to lean on you for odd jobs and requests. Every day the Queen of England receives hundreds of letters – obviously she cannot answer each and every one yet she thinks it is important that each receive an answer she asked for a group of retired women to answer her letters for her. This group of women is called the Queens Ladies in Waiting. I need a group of “ladies-in-waiting” to help organize our membership lists, file away papers, help write grants, send out correspondences, make phone calls to simply say hello, check up on folk, & etc.
Paul Powell has volunteered to come on board at the start of year as a coordinator of Christian Education to help in this venture. I believe I have a post-seminary graduate intern lined up for 2011 (we need to come up with health insurance only). I believe I have several seminary intern for the summer. In the Fall an architecture class from Tulane will be looking at how to redesign our building space as a class project. And I am hoping for a few college interns in the Fall to help with the business aspects of the congregation. We are also applying for a worship and the arts grant to initiate a jazz and gospel Sunday evening vespers service or camp or early morning alternative service. We have to act like we didn’t get the memo that this type of work can’t be done.
After Christmas we are going to delve into a congregation wide study on Christian practices. Over the course of Lent I am going to charge the congregation to break up into specific small groups to experiment with these Christian practices then convene after Easter and share about your experiences. The hope is to jump start the experience and practice of small groups.
In 2011 I also hope to re-connect with our sister churches in Cuba, organize a mission trip to Haiti through International Ministries, and ask every person for every hour in worship you spend an hour in mission work somewhere in the church or in the city.
All of this will take money. We are a generous giving congregation. We are on target to give approximately $270,000 from members and supporters. For a church of 125-150 active members that is a phenomenal number. We are, I am, asking for everyone of us to continue to increase our giving as much as we can for the next coming year. If you have never filled out a pledge card I challenge you to do so this year. We need as accurate financial number more than ever to form our budget this year. Historically this church, like all churches has had a hard time fulfilling its budget. My research over the past few weeks revealed countless examples of pleas by the pastor to fulfill pledges in December. My personal goal is that we begin to change the church culture of giving. That at the end of the year when we have a surplus we do not reallocate it to savings but we have a grand/excitement filled meeting where we decide how we are going to give our extra money away to missions or fund new ministry initiatives. We have to change and act like we didn’t get the memo about how to live out our calling as Christians – I think it is our only way to grow.
In closing, let me share a story. The Sunday before I started Lou Irwin preached a sermon titled A Ministry of Reconciliation. It was a fine and proper sermon. But there was something about it that I didn’t like. I suppose it was the fact that it did not fit with my own hopes and dreams of helping to reawaken a Baptist cathedral. I mean you cant grow a church with a ministry of reconciliation. It is not like I didn’t feel an affinity, even a co-dream of a ministry of reconciliation but it just didn’t seem possible. Apparently no one from the search committee gave Lou the memo about how we were going to flourish.
A few weeks ago I began preparing for this sermon and this day by looking over historical documents of this congregation. I kept coming back to the mentioning of the dedication and naming of the baptistery, this is the formal Purser Memorial Baptistery. I googled, tore up the history and safe room, and asked everyone I could if they knew anything about the men for whom the baptistery was named. All anyone could tell me is that they were Baptist ministers. Finally I unearthed some stories, finally my birddogging produced a useful find.
David Ingram Purser and John Frederick Purser were brothers, both Baptist preachers and both served, primarily, congregations in Alabama. David Ingram was a Confederate solider of the Seven Stars Artillery company and was participated in 16 hard-fought engagements. After the war he started a business and became quite wealthy. In 1870 he was ordained and because of his previous success in business never accepted a dollar for his work as a pastor.
John Frederick Purser was a minister from the start. He always lived in the shadow of his older brother but all admit that David would never have been the success he was if it weren’t for John.
In 1906 Morehouse College, in Atlanta, GA, elected its first African-American president, Dr. John Hope. Sitting on the board who elected Dr. Hope was John Frederick Purser.
Neither in 1906 or 1925 when the baptistery was memorialized in the Purser name could anyone have imagined the ministry of reconciliation that emerged from Morehouse College. In 1923 Howard Thurman graduated from Morehose, went to Rochester Theological Seminary in Rochester, NY then onto Boston University to serve as Dean of Marsh Chapel. While serving as Dean of the Chapel another Morehouse graduate and Crozer Theological Seminary graduate (both schools merged to form CRCDS, my alma mater) was pursuing academic study, his name was Martin Luther King, Jr. These two men offered America the greatest ministry of reconciliation our nation has ever known. King was obviously the public figure but Thurman was the chaplain of the civil rights movement. King carried a copy of Thurman’s most popular book Jesus and the Disinherited with him wherever he went, it was in his briefcase when he was assassinated in Memphis, TN 1968.
In this simple and ornate baptistery, named for two Baptist preachers is a legacy of a ministry of reconciliation, it is our tradition and it is our challenge and charge as a community today. In this city, in our lives, in our world.
Stewardship is not about giving money to keep the lights on, to pay the pastor, to mow the grass although your giving does ensure all of that. Stewardship is about giving so that we can be the people God has called us to be, is desiring us to be, is challenging us to be. This congregation has a ministry of reconciliation. The memo says you cant grow a church with that tradition, challenge, and ministry. But we are going forward as if we didn’t get that memo. We are going to grow with integrity, with grace, with love, with an intentional ministry of reconciliation. Reconciliation is where God is at work in this world, may we be a part of God’s work too. Amen & Amen.
10 November 2010
Bustin' A Move: The Need for an Expansive Theology
09 November 2010
13 X 9 = Love 4 times
03 November 2010
Professional Sermon Writers and 40 Under 40
He spent most of the next four years working to make his boss the president of the United States. “We traveled together to all 50 states,” Mr. Sorensen wrote in his book “Counselor: A Life at the Edge of History,” a memoir published in 2008, “most of them more than once, initially just the two of us.” There was no entourage until Kennedy won the Democratic nomination in 1960. It was not clear at the outset that he could do that, much less capture the White House.
“It was only after we had crisscrossed the country and began to build support at the grass roots, largely unrecognized in Washington, where Kennedy was dismissed as being too young, too Catholic, too little known, too inexperienced,” Mr. Sorensen said in the interview.
27 October 2010
Why I Am Not a Kierkegaardian & other thoughts
14 October 2010
EmmyLou
13 October 2010
Preaching
05 October 2010
Sermon.3.Oct.2010: The Cost of Discipleship
The Cost of Discipleship
Sixth Sunday of Kingdomtide – 3.Oct.2010
World Communion Sunday
Luke 14:1-35
The Rev’d G. Travis Norvell
There was a core group in the church who had “talent parties.” These were parties at which the invitees had to perform in some way. The musical talent in the church was vast, so we always had many wonderful singing and instrumental selections. There were some comics in the group who performed by telling us funny tales; the writers would read their latest efforts. My ex-wife used to love to demonstrate beauty tips and accessorizing using the most macho man in the crowd as her unwilling model. One woman collected Jesus memorabilia and often showed us her latest find and discussed the importance of Jesus painted on black velvet, Jesus’ face--visible to all the faithful--in a wedge of bread pudding, and the bust of Jesus with eyes that followed you wherever you went. Retired organ professor, Beatrice Collins, would show up and wow us by playing yet another memorized Rachmaninov piece on the piano, her secondary instrument. There was once a skit in which I was a character, and everyone knew the character was me long before I caught on because he never put down his coffee cup.
Once a visitor showed up who happened to be a nun. When her time to perform came, she sang--appropriately--”Climb Every Mountain,” the wonderful Mother Superior solo from the musical, “The Sound of Music.” The only thing was, though, half way through, Sister yanked off her habit and her long black robe to reveal a scantily clad drag queen who modulated into the song, “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough.”
Links: Rev. Dr. David Farmer's Sermons.
The Salty Saints Sermon referenced above.
28 September 2010
Louisiana Saturday Night
22 September 2010
The Benefits of a No-Trade Clause
24 August 2010
13 August 2010
You're Here for the Fried Chicken?
Here is the day-to-day
Day One, a nice drive from NOLA to Decatur. If anyone ever says there is not enough land for the citizens of this nation just show them Alabama - there were deserted miles between exits. I began to think what if I get a flat tire or run out of gas. I checked into the hotel and decided to go for a walk. Instantly I realized odd things: even sidewalks, large lawns, quiet neighborhoods, so quiet that my presence caused a few folk to peer out their window wondering what was going on. After the walk I moseyed over to the reception the conference had arranged. Side note -- If anyone ever wonders: what separates Baptists from other groups (this conference was largely a UCC event) it is the presence of alcohol. It was a nice change to see clergy having a casual glass of wine or even a cheap American beer. After the occasion I continued my exploration of the downtown area then returned for a good night sleep.
Day Two, lots of plenary sessions, workshops, lots of notes, and ideas. I began the day hoping to find some sausage biscuits and gravy; the hotel offered them but it was terrible. For dinner the Bridge for Faith group all met at The Watershed. Once we were seated our waitress asked if we were here for the fried chicken? But of course, even though I had never heard of this place if they have a special fried chicken night - I'm good. Sometime along the way I mentioned I came from New Orleans - this changed everything! Even though the mashed potatoes did not come with gravy the chef made gravy especially for me, he even came out and met me afterwards. I have to say Chef's fried chicken was the best I have ever had! hands down. Better than my mother-in-law's, better than my grandmother's, better than my wife's and I hate to say it mom -- but even better than yours. The meal was full of great conversation, food and libations. We all left way too full and happy.
Day Three, more great plenary sessions, workshops, lots of notes, and ideas. A good friend from Birmingham drove over for the supper. We ate at the Brick Store Pub (supposedly the #2 beer bar in America - quite a recognition for a restaurant without any cask ale! -- yeah, yeah I heard it too--they usually have it). They were out of Ommegang, so I settled for an IPA, chicken fingers, and fries (yes, I felt like a kid ordering that).
Day Four, I headed back home for New Orleans. From the notes and twitter feeds it looks like I missed some great stuff.
Lots of good people, good resources, and overall great time. Look forward to implementing some of the ideas now....
02 August 2010
Rest, Relax, Renew why is this a problem?
All over facebook today friends and colleagues posted the NY Times article on clergy burnout. Why those of my tribe experience burnout, obesity, hypertension, diabetes and etc at such higher levels than other professions boggles my mind.
I look at colleagues who never walk away from their job, who trade their families for their jobs or who never cease talking about their job. I have had my moments of bringing my work home (solved by a new family rule - I cannot come on Friday till my sermon is done, I am not allowed to work on it at the house over the weekend). I have been known to have tunnel vision and only read theology books or only talk shop (the sudden lack of friends ruled this one out, I now keep up with athletic teams just to force myself from being one dimensional). I have even thought a meeting was more important than a baseball game (but coaching this year purged that idea from my head).
I am by no means a perfect model when it comes to health and well-being as a clergyman but I do think my approach is healthier than a lot of my colleagues. I do not know why they have such a hard time walking away from church work, turning the church work button off, or saying good bye to the office for a few days. It baffles me. I have fun at work, I love my job. But I have more fun passing ball with my kids and enjoy my time away from work.
I think about the historical nature of this job: did Jonathan Edwards, Elijah Craig, Lyman Beecher, Cotton Mather, or James Manning have a vacation or a sabbatical? Don't get me wrong I love and cherish my vacation time and am counting down the days till my sabbatical in a couple of years. What prevented their burnout? I think I know: they were multi-dimensional people with many interests and hobbies. They seemed to marry well, liked and loved their spouses.
Yet there is another reason for the lack of holiday. Being a clergy person right now is not the easiest profession. Most of us are working like mad to make it in this business. We all have old buildings, aging memberships, budgetary problems, staffing shortages and what not. There is the temptation to buckle down and work harder. maybe working harder gets more people in the door and more funds in the offering but if I lose my soul and my family what good is that?
31 July 2010
Publish or Preach: The Teaching Ministry of Werner Lemke, an appreciation
CRDS was a loose ship when I arrived, except in Dr. Lemke's class. If class started at 10:00am, it started at 10:00am! If the assignment called for 100 pages of reading, you found a way to read 100 pages. The impetus was not fear but respect. You knew the man had poured his heart and soul into the lesson and he deserved the same from his students. If you opened up just a bit he filled it to the brim and then some. I can produce sermon after sermon on the book of Jeremiah from his Jeremiah class. He didnt beat it in or drill it in, he simply loved it in. He was an amazing teacher.
Then there was his briefcase. It looked like something from 1920s Egypt, it was huge and looked like it had been through war and back (given his life experiences it may have well been). It was cavernous and held a small library, papers, lectures, sermons, pens, and at least four sandwiches (this is all speculation but I bet I'm not too far off). I have looked in vain for a duplicate, perhaps it is fitting that there is only one in existence.
In class one day I asked why he stayed at CRDS all of these years. He replied that he had many opportunities to leave but his calling was to teach. The other opportunities carried a simple expectation: publish or preach. He chose neither, he chose to teach. Thank you Dr. Lemke for teaching. You were a great man and will be remembered always as so.
26 July 2010
A Counter Intuitive Profession
We have adjusted to Central Standard Time, vistas with no hills, valleys or granite outcroppings, french bread made by German bakers, chicory coffee, seafood, beignets (I can even spell that right on the first try), drive thru daiquiri shops, no open container laws, beer and wine at little league games, street cars, house rattling thunder storms, lighting that stays in the air long enough for you to snap a picture, lizards, spontaneous gatherings of friends, parades, marching clubs and dinner parties, Pimm's cups, people saying alright when i say hello to them, lack of New England apples, okra, jambalaya, gumbo - in all varieties, boudain - where have you been all my life?, people not planning, roast beef poboys, to name just a few.
But the hardest adjustment has been the reading the people at church while delivering a sermon. One would think people are people and how people interact with a sermon in Lincoln, RI or Athens, WV or St. Albans, WV or Scott Depot, WV or Rochester, NY would be universally, somewhat, the same. But they aint.
Everytime I think oh brother I really blew that the sermon. Or man hopefully they'll give me a mulligan. Or I hope the adage you're only as good as your last sermon is not true. This has happened a couple of times here recently but afterwards I find that what I was feeling was completely wrong. I have pondered this for some time: is the culture really that different? do they just not get me? do they not know what to do with me? is my style that different? Then this evening I came to the probably conclusion: I'm just not used to a church actually listening. This is not to say that every other place I preached in didn't listen or pay attention. Sure there were folk who would rake me over the coals or offer the best words of encouragement, or simply made me feel amazing with their compliments. But there is a level of difference when vast majority of folk actually listening.
On the one hand it would be great if they didn't listen that much (more room for half-hearted sermons, indeed). But on the other hand I am thrilled and intimidated that they listen. It makes the writing process much more enjoyable. What other art form has this kind of weekly feedback and interaction? What kind of artist has the confidence knowing that if he or she pours their heart, soul and mind into a piece of art a group of people will take their creation seriously? The job may be counter intuitive, but it is a fascinating job.
One year down, and many more to go...
13 July 2010
A Biblical Mandate
I suppose I have taken the biblical mandate of naming a little too far. I name rooms, nooks, even chairs at the rental chateau. At Lime Rock Baptist I had a contest to name the bell for the outdoor chapel. I even made up a holiday "The First Ever 28 days after WV Day Party" in an attempt to name the day.
This brings me to my current abode T-F and Sundays. There are multiple rooms and only a handful have proper names: The Harris Room and the Lee Reading Room. But I really think the offices, hallways, gates, trees, library, & etc. need names. I already have ideas for some it is just a matter of presenting them in the right way. I am also in the process of naming the small strips of grass as the North and South Lawns. My reasoning is that this place is too historic not to have formal and proper names. Furthermore, naming keeps memories alive and creates opportunities to tell the stories of this church and God's presence in them.
Any suggestions?
11 July 2010
Publish or Preach: The Teaching Ministry of Werner Lemke, an appreciation
CRDS was a loose ship when I arrived, except in Dr. Lemke's class. If class started at 10:00am, it started at 10:00am! If the assignment called for 100 pages of reading, you found a way to read 100 pages. The impetus was not fear but respect. You knew the man had poured his heart and soul into the lesson and he deserved the same from his students. If you opened up just a bit he filled it to the brim and then some. I can produce sermon after sermon on the book of Jeremiah from his Jeremiah class. He didnt beat it in or drill it in, he simply loved it in. He was an amazing teacher.
Then there was his briefcase. It looked like something from 1920s Egypt, it was huge and looked like it had been through war and back (given his life experiences it may have well been). It was cavernous and held a small library, papers, lectures, sermons, pens, and at least four sandwiches (this is all speculation but I bet I'm not too far off). I have looked in vain for a duplicate, perhaps it is fitting that there is only one in existence.
In class one day I asked why he stayed at CRDS all of these years. He replied that he had many opportunities to leave but his calling was to teach. The other opportunities carried a simple expectation: publish or preach. He chose neither, he chose to teach. Thank you Dr. Lemke for teaching. You were a great man and will be remembered always as so.
07 July 2010
The Final Out
1. I now have enough material for a book full of short stories!
2. I now know what it means to be god - not because I call the shots: who plays first and who doesn't, batting order, & etc - because I know the true meaning of frustration. Every game I seek to line the boys up and get them in a ready baseball position. But as soon as I get them lined up they break out: one kid starts digging a hole, one kid starts hugging second base, one kid is watching the train, and one kid is picking their nose. In this way I feel like God - a higher power who does their best to get people in a ready position for human flourishing but they reject it and do their own thing. I have three godly options: yell at the kids (the easy route) or leave them on their own and let them get hit by the ball or go over and get them in place again.
3. If you can get a kid to hit a ball or put them in position to catch a ball it can make their day.
4. Kids are more fascinated with watching the ball they just hit then making it safe to first base.
5. Finally, at the end of the day the only thing that really matters is the team drink. In my day we called it "Around the World" here they call it "Swamp Water."
Yet all of these experiences are almost trumped by the most bizarre occurrence that can only be described as one of those "only in New Orleans types" Beer and Wine for sale at the concession stand.
23 June 2010
Editing
Editing seems to be a lost art. I find at least two grammatical errors in the Times each day - this is saying something from a writer who averages three errors a paragraph. Contextual note: i have yet to find any error in the Times Picayune, they have excellent copy editors. I would love to have a personal editor for my sermons. (I have a personal goal that I know I have made it as a pastor when three things happen: there are enough men in the congregation to field a winning softball team, I have the summers off, and have a personal secretary). On good weeks the sermon process goes likes this: last sentence written first (I once heard Robert Caro on Charlie Rose say he could not write his biographies of LBJ until he had written the last sentence. I tried it and man is that an excellent practice), outline, first draft (freehand), reading of first draft, second draft (typed and preached), final copy, and copies printed for worship (about 12 people read along during the sermon). I have a colleague who goes into the sanctuary early Saturday morning and preaches his sermon to finalize his sentence rhythm; I like the idea but no way I am going to give up my Saturday morning...yet. But that it is a perfect week. Most weeks that does not happen. When it does not happen I feel underwhelmed by my delivery and final product.
I look back on former years and think how many times delivered first draft sermons to congregations. And folk wonder why churches are not growing! I honestly believe there will be a revitalization in classical Protestantism but it will only come by way of well written, and yes edited, sermons.
Updike article.
14 June 2010
The Senging Preacher
1. First, there is the singing preacher. These are folk who are gifted singers but who spent too much time listening to sermons and not delivering them, spent too much time having folk look at the preacher more than them; usually are better singers than the preachers are preachers. One day they hear the call to preach and incorporate their singing into their preaching.
2. Next there are the preachers who would love to sing and think that if they incorporate singing into their preaching folk will appreciate them more.
3. Then there are the preachers who sing sappy hymns to, usually at the end of the sermon, to emote religious sentimentality with the hope of "winning one for the Lord." Why the odd spelling? It was the way my in-laws referred to them as. Think ginseng when you pronounce it. For the record, I enjoy listening to these types they are genuinely more entertaining than I will ever be and usually have a devoted following.
4. Furthermore, there are the preachers who can barely carry a tune in a bucket, enjoy music, and simply sing in their sermons for amusement with the hope of relaxing people enough to hear the word of the Lord. That's me.
12 June 2010
Dollars to Donuts
I woke up this morning, got the girls situated (#1 had a friend over), grabbed my sermon, and went off to the coffee shop. I sat down to go over my sermon only discover I had brought Justice Souter's Harvard Commencement Speech rather than my sermon. So I took a sip of french roast and drove over my new favorite donut shop.
This is the oddest donut shop I have ever been to. The donuts are okay, the kids are not crazy about them but the place is so bizarre I keep going back; for the record the VOR will no longer go there, but that is another story. How is it bizarre? The window faces the rising sun! It is a donut shop - a morning food! So every time you go in the woman behind the counter is always squinting and seems grumpy (I have yet to fully ascertain if she is a full-time grumpy or just grumpy due to the headache from squinting for hours). Next the place is barely 15ft sq but there is always two or three people working. (Last time the woman behind the counter shouted my order of two chocolate milks to the man at the cooler, which is right behind her). Next, they placed a table right in the middle of the room so to place an order you have to squeeze by the table and dont even think about bending over to look at the donut selection - there is no room to. Finally, "they" the workers and now the owner(s) are not ambivalent about their lack of sales. The other day I was told how the Lord sent them a table full of women for breakfast who "made their morning." They people are also completely disinterested in your donut order, they do not want you to mix and match, even though they have a selection of 10 different varieties. Oh yeah, and don't even think of just walking in and ordering a dozen or god forbid two dozen donuts; trust me you will hear about it, thus the VOR's reason for not going back.
Today I noticed a two paragraph narrative/statement explaining how the establishment would no longer be selling breakfast due to the rising cost of food and the low breakfast sales. The last sentence was in red, bold and in all caps informing the reader that being a donut shop they would continue to sale HOT GLAZED DONUTS. Whether or not they will they continue to sell cream filled, chocolate topped, powered sugar donuts is anybodies guess. Whereas the days of the hot breakfast bar are waning I stared at the selection of eggs, grits, biscuits, and sausage patties. The gentleman behind the hot breakfast area asked if he could help me. Innocently I asked for a sausage biscuit. Sure thing he said and then asked, 'do you want butter on your biscuit too?' What kind of question is that? of course i want butter on it. The gentleman informed the woman behind the donut counter (roughly a distance of two and one half feet) what I ordered. My order set off a chain of events that I have yet to decipher. It began with hushed tones, then a slight raise of voices about 60lbs of sausage, a trip to the freezer whence a box of patties was produced, followed by laughter, and the announcement to me that they would no longer be selling breakfast.
30 May 2010
Day IIII: the colorful city
After three hours I hopped back into the semi-mature German engineered sedan and headed up the avenue to the Loyola University Library to begin processing all of the artifacts, notes, and ideas I had accumulated.
27 May 2010
Outdoor Baptisms
Go here for the article.
26 May 2010
Day III: The Joy of Being a Liturgical Free Agent
I took my file folder box, sermon idea box, and my brief case into the reading room, found a big table, and spread my stuff out. It is a good place to study (nothing will ever take the place of the reading room at CRCDS). It was quiet for the most part, except when a dude came in to talk to the dude in some office. I heard fantastic (not really) tales of what is really going on with the BP spill. Other times folk would walk by, see my big pile of stuff, and make quizical remarks like "that guy has a lot of work to do" or "man look at that" and other well thought out responses. But the afternoon got kicking when a mob of golf shirts and khaki panted men along with short shorted cowgirl boot wearing females swarmed into the reading room sometime after lunch. They came in, commandeered most of the tables, took volumes of reference books and started, get this...researching. I tried like the dickens to figure out what they were up to but was unable. Although i may be nosy, i'm more of the disinterested nosy type.
Every time I go to the library I am more impressed with the collection and the friendliness of the staff.
My biggest surprise, however, came at the flow of ideas that emerged from dedicated and undistracted time. Ideas were gushing out so fast it was all I could do to write them down fast enough. I had mapped out on Monday my sermon ideas for the Fall, but it became apparent by 10:00am on Wednesday that my initial idea would not do. (How many times have I preached a first draft sermon or wasted time researching a first draft idea?) Instead of following the lectionary in the Fall I elected to develop a series of sermons based on the parables in Luke. This is where being a Baptist comes in handy; no one can send in a unit of liturgical cops over to rough me up and make me follow the lectionary. I am liturgical free agent and can move around, or not all, in the lectionary as I please.
With my texts and Sundays in hand I set about locating appropriate parable resources. But something happened by the time I got back to the table with my stack of books. Was the parables i chose and the order I chose them the best possible idea? I allowed my thoughts to percolate some more before arriving at an unsatisfactory answer. So I went back to work on the texts. Came up with a better order (third draft).